"Hetero-flexible", "Bi-sexual" or "Bi-curious" - What's in a Word

As those readers who have met me on Fetlife already know, I describe myself as "hetero-flexible" as opposed to "bi-sexual" or "bi-curious".  Every time I review my profile there I notice my choice of words.  This morning I'm thinking about why I chose "hetero-flexible" over the other possible adjectives.

Personally, I believe that sexual orientation is more fluid for some people.  I know there are folks who describe their orientation very specifically and have strong reactions to any suggestion they may lean in another direction.  I can't say I've ever felt that way.  I can honestly say I've been physically and emotionally drawn to women and men, and to those in between (transgendered).  For me, it really is about the person more than anything else.

I haven't had a lot of sexual partners in my life, but I've had enough experiences to answer any question I may have had about being "bi-curious".  Tracing the soft curves of a woman body can be mesmerizing just as the hardness of a man's form can be wonderfully overwhelming.  So I can't say I'm curious - I already know what I like.

I've never really liked the word "bi-sexual."  I remember a friend of mine coming to terms with her own orientation as bi-sexual.  She didn't like the word either.  To her it suggested she could swing either way at the flick of a switch, and it wasn't like that for her.  It isn't like that for me either.  My friend complained that the way some people related to her changed after she came out to them - as if they expected her to be promiscuous.  She was no less conservative in how she approached relationships than she ever was. I think she was more hurt than anything that people whom she thought knew her could make such assumptions.

I don't think that many people turn their sexual urges on and off like a switch regardless of their orientation, but of course we were much younger then and didn't have the internet resources to help make sense of things.  Also, woman-on-woman action is a common fantasy for many men (including my ex-husband).  In his mind, me having sex with a woman for his pleasure made me no less heterosexual.  And the notion of him masturbating while several female friends (lesbians) made love didn't make him a voyeur either (just faithful to me).  Go figure.  No wonder I was so confused about boundaries, labels, etc. as a young adult.

The term "hetero-flexible" is fairly new to me and is without any emotional baggage.  And I really like the "flexible" part of the term.  For me it captures it perfectly.  Given the right emotional connection and chemistry, everything else becomes negotiable as long as the feeling is reciprocal.  If I can be accepting of an individual and their wants and needs, I do expect the same in return, whether my partner is a strapping 240 pound power lifter or a 110 pound petite woman. 

So, I'm curious how my readers feel about the words "bi-sexual" and "hetero-flexible."  I'd be pleased if you would share your thoughts.

The Joys of Sensory Perception

I am so grateful for the perceptual tools with which we are equipped as humans.   Simultaneously we can perceive sound, taste and scent, texture and sensation, heat and cold, colour and pattern.  It's amazing when you stop and think about it. 

I do my best not to take these gifts for granted.  I stop to savour the scent of clothes fresh off the line and the aroma from my coffee cup before I take the first sip.  I chew food slowly, especially the first few bites and frequently express my pleasure vocally.  I love the feel of cashmere against bare skin and enjoy getting my hair shampooed at the salon.  Walking through my favorite yarn or fabric store always lifts my spirits.

One of the best parts about being submissive is the opportunity to fully explore each experience my Domme provides. For example, when I'm bound or lying still, and am being spanked or flogged, I have an opportunity to fully explore the moment using all the perceptual tools at my disposal.  I can hear her move about the room, the swish of the crop as it slices through the air on its way to meet my flesh.  I can smell the leather falls of the flogger and my own arousal.  I feel the coils of rope around my body, the pinch of a clothespin, the sting of the cane or slap of an open hand against my skin.  I feel Lady's breath against the back of my neck and her finger nails as they trace down my back.  <sigh>

Time slows and I experience every moment as a separate event.  Words disappear and I am unable to speak.  My body hums and I am conscious of every square inch Lady has touched.  The separation of the senses blur until it no longer matters.  By the time Lady tells me to cum, the building sensations have combined and almost any additional stimulation will push me into the eye of the storm.  If I close my eyes, I see colors as I fly over the edge. 

Lady plays me like a musical instrument, pulling the high notes from me and leading me through complex harmonies.  Moments like these are pure magic!  And when I can finally speak again, I whisper my gratitude and count my blessings.

Self-acceptance Can Be the Hardest Part

I've recently made the acquaintance of several other kinky bloggers who are also in their forties.    As I read through their posts and saw the occasional reference to their everyday lives I wondered how they think of themselves and how they integrate their kinky self into the greater self.  Nothing like fresh perspectives, to get a person thinking!

Think of how you respond in various social situations, especially those involving new people.  Think of what you choose to share - and it is very much a choice, isn't it?  We can be very selective about what we reveal to others and in so doing, can create a skewed image of ourselves which people may mistakenly believe is an accurate picture. 

Then are times when we start to believe our own propaganda.  This is not so much driven by ego as by the simplicity of the created images (as interpreted and brought to life by us as individuals) be it soccer mom, ambitious entrepreneur or creative artist.  Of course, there are times in our lives when some aspects of us do indeed seem to eclipse others to take centre stage and sometimes do so for years.  Eventually, this limited expression of self is no longer as fulfilling.  In my case, I wondered if I had chosen the wrong line of work, I questioned my relationships and whether I was being realistic about what this life could provide.  Time and time again, I'd come to this place and push the feelings aside or compartmentalize them in the name of practicality. 

I had many nights of broken rest as I tried to imagine the implications of giving in to these repressed parts of myself, and not just the kinky parts.  Needing to submit to another is one thing, but what about my belief in things that cannot be seen, and in the importance of mythology in everyday existence, in things I can hardly articulate to myself let alone express to others?   In darker moments, I imagined relationships shattered and financial hardship, yet this wasn't enough to push me away.  I reached a point where I knew if I couldn't acknowledge the repressed parts of me, the dysfunction this was creating would eventually bring about the trouble I was trying to avoid.  I was becoming withdrawn, my body was manifesting my spiritual/mental pain, my patience was growing thin, and my judgement cloudy.  My hope for some sort of resolution grew slim.  Not good!

I realized I was approaching a crisis and started looking for ways to prepare myself and minimize the damage to those I love.  I made a conscious decision to start bringing these aspects of myself into the light, and the universe responded by sending help my way.  I discovered online sites where I found support and information, and opportunities to make new friendships that would play a major role in helping me.  Once I was willing to accept these aspects of myself, the universe responded in kind giving me what I was finally willing to give myself.  Facing the shadow-self can be scary, but it breeds a strength and a confidence that lasts past the crisis, a warrior's heart, if you will. 

The Cougar Chronicles: When Did You Know You Were Kinky?

The groups and discussion forums are one of the best things about my favourite website.  There is literally is a group for every fetish and interest.  Often it is the responses from members that are the greatest source of validation for newcomers like me.  The discussion can provoke introspection too.  Such was the case with the discussion thread entitled: “When Did You Know You Were Kinky?”

As I read the responses posted, I was struck that for most folks, the epiphany was an exercise in hindsight.  The moment or event that each person described was more likely than not one that assumed that significance after the fact.  That made sense to me: self-discovery is a process as opposed to a destination.  I imagine a person is likely already on a journey before she fully realizes the direction she is taking.   I can’t say that I usually know when I’ve taken the first significant step in a whole new direction.  I say this because, as I pondered this particular discussion question, I kept changing my answer, going further backwards in my life to earlier and earlier events. There was no way at that stage in my life I would have been able to say that this event or another was the definitive beginning of my journey down the kinky path.

How Do You Spank Me? Let Me Count the Ways!

I have to say I enjoy a spanking.  This is one of the first activities that my partner and I explored together after I first "came out" regarding my interest in kink.  Our sessions were tentative as we took our first few steps together on a brand new path.  As the months have passed, my Lady has experimented with various tools, toys and of course, with her hand, to see how we both respond.  It has been an interesting journey thus far.

Once Lady got used to the idea that I actually wanted to be spanked and gave every indication of enjoying it, she began to realize that she too found it quite stimulating.  She quickly learned that by varying her approach, she could get different responses from me, and was hooked!  This was the main impetus behind some of the toys Lady has made: she wanted a wider variety of tools at her disposal.  (Lucky me!)

The Cougar Chronicles: Welcome to the Dungeon

This is another entry from The Cougar Chronicle, a fictonal journal based loosely on my own experiences.  Hope you enjoy it!

After several months of chatting on the internet, I was on my way to meet my new friend.  He was to be hosting a social and soft play party at his home and had extended an invitation for me to attend.  I had thought long and hard about going, worked my way through a series of “what ifs” and decided to take the plunge.  I arranged for accommodation close by, selected several party outfits to take along and jumped into my car to begin the long drive.

                Long drives give a person a chance to think, especially when there are long gaps in the local radio reception and you don’t have a stereo in your vehicle.  (Ooops, I think I just dated myself again, oh well…)  Scanning the highway for moose and taking in the lush late summer scenery, I found myself immersed in a range of thoughts swirling through my mind.  I found nothing odd about the prospect of meeting a small group of people for the first time, dressed in skimpy fetish wear, talking about subjects that in other circumstances would be considered completely taboo, and possibly watching or participating in my first “play” session.  That in itself could be considered odd, if not utterly absurd by some.  Yet, I felt confident that I would be in the company of other folks as excited and utterly terrified as me.... 

(To read the rest of this fictional journal entry, go to the list of pages part way down the right hand side of my blog page and look for the title.)

"The Cougar Chronicles" Prologue, Chapters 1 and 2

The Cougar Chronicles: Prologue

The great thing about being in your forties is you have a much better sense yourself and what you want from life, from yourself, from your lovers...you get the picture.  The lousy thing about being in your forties is while your perception of yourself may not have changed so much, your chassis is starting to feel the miles, your appetites have changed and society has a whole new set of labels for you to contend with.  When I was in my twenties, a libido like mine made me a “hot” girlfriend.  In my thirties, it was credited with keeping my marriage “vibrant.”  I was a “horny housewife”, the kind men have wet dreams about.  Now I’m divorced, in my mid forties, and my libido gets me labelled as a “cougar.” I mean who makes this shit up anyway?  I suppose I should be grateful.  I mean at least it sounds sexy - meow.  If only it made getting laid a little easier.

That’s one of the ironies of being a woman in your forties.  Your hormones are screwed up, but sometimes that works in your favour.  The same testosterone surges that make your aesthetician your best friend also give you great wet dreams and add a whole new edge to masturbation fantasies.   If you’re like me and have read your share of period romances, you are familiar with the alpha male hero and, no doubt, he will have been a staple in your fantasies since adolescence.  The problem, of course, is all those alpha heroes are typically in their late twenties or early thirties and are always chasing after heroines who are eight to ten years younger than them.  Any temporary liaisons with older women are just that – something to tie them over until the right virgin shows up.   That’s the first thing that gets changed in my fantasies, of course.  In my fantasies, virginity is not a deal breaker.  Now it’s not that I have anything against older men either.   It’s just they are not so easy to find in romance novels.  Period romances, hell the romance genre in general, seems to think that books sell better when them that are having the steamy sex are between 19 and 35.  (I wonder why?)