Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Why do I want to bite everyone I make out with? Or: The sexual stirrings of a young sub in the making

I'm not sure how to begin this story. How to recount the tale of how I went from what I thought was, (what I was pretending was), a perfectly normal life as a mom and a wife in the 'burbs, to life as a secret submissive, obeying my Master's every command, while still living my "real" life. I'm hoping in the telling, I will discover even more about myself than I already have. I guess I should start at the beginning. But there is the beginning 2.5 years ago, and then there is the beginning, 22 years ago. 

Sexual Awakening Part 1

Maybe I should give a brief history. Or one not so brief. Twenty-two years ago, or so, I had just graduated high school. I had had a lot of boyfriends, a few serious, most not. I was a virgin. I had not even really considered having sex with any of my boyfriends, even though a few had politely inquired. One even asked using the immortal words of KISS, as in, "I was made for loving you, baby, you were made for loving me!" Even in the face of such romantic witticisms, it was easy to say no. 

But I felt the stirrings inside me that I suppose all girls that age feel, and enjoy. I loved making out with a boy who really knew how to kiss. I had been taught how to kiss by an older boy named Jed in the woods behind the high school when I was 14, so I felt like I had the experience to know the difference. I had come across plenty of mediocre kissers, a few really good ones, and a few really terrible ones. You know the really bad ones? The boys who make you feel like some milk-bone treat a dog has just slobbered greedily all over? But the good ones made you want to do bad things, and left you feeling all tingly between your legs.

I hadn't progressed all that far beyond heavy-petting, truth be told, by the time I graduated. The constant hand up the shirt, sure. An occasional hand down the pants, over the panties, definitely. Once a memorable session of making out in a truly uncomfortable position with a "boyfriend" I barely knew, his hand down the front of my jeans, inside my panties, doing ... something. It's only memorable because all I could think the whole time was that if what he was doing was supposed to feel good ... he was doing it wrong. 

One of my more serious boyfriends was in my junior year of high school. I had seen him in the halls of my high school all the previous year, but didn't know who he was. He had brown hair and deep, soulful brown eyes. He had a full, pouty mouth. He wore jeans and cowboy boots. He wore a denim jacket with a corduroy collar. I never saw him smile and he was always alone. I decided I loved him.

Coincidence and a random mutual friend finally brought us together and we went out for almost a year. Of course, he turned out to be sweet, and thoughtful and kind and ... smiley.  He was a very good kisser. We'd roll around on the floor and rub against each other and do the things kids did without actually doing anything. He politely informed me one evening that, if I thought I was ready for sex, he was ready, too. I politely answered back that I'd let him know. And the thing was, as heavy as our petting got, it never even entered my mind that I was ready for sex. Not once. 

I did let him go down on me once. Sadly, for him, I never returned the favor, but I did lay on the floor of an empty house one night, shorts and panties in a bunch beside me (I remember exactly what I was wearing that night. Isn't it funny what we remember sometimes?) and spread my legs for him. And it felt good. It was exciting. I think I actually made him stop because I was starting to feel lightheaded. Probably from all of  the heavy breathing. And as I lay there, experiencing this new, totally enjoyable experience, his brown haired head between my tanned thighs, I was thinking to myself ... well, I don't really know what I was thinking, it was kind of surreal and felt really naughty and my head was floating away a little. But still, the thought that this act would lead to anything else? Not even on my radar.

So eventually I broke up with this nice, sweet, kind, good-kissing boyfriend for the same reasons I broke up with almost all of my boyfriends. He was too nice. I know that's not unusual for girls that age ... always searching for that bad boy with a heart of gold ... but looking back now, I think there was another dimension to the bad boy that I was looking for, I just didin't know what it was.

Fast forward a year or so, and a boyfriend or two later. It was right around graduation and I was at a party at my friend Scott's house. I went upstairs looking for the bathroom, and I saw ... HIM. I can see it now like it was yesterday. The memory is seared in my brain forever. I was walking up the stairs, and I saw the back of the head of a girl in my class, this cheerleader who I did not care for, Traci or Tiffani or Jenni. Then I saw who she was talking to. He rose up off the couch and looked at me. I swear our eyes locked. I'm pretty sure I blushed. There was a sudden buzzing in my head, it was the strangest thing. Who was this guy? I don't remember if he introduced himself, or if TraciTiffaniJenni introduced us. Or if I just figured out who he was later. I feel like she may have said, "This is Jack, Scott's brother."  I don't think we talked, just said, "Hey." And I continued on to the bathroom. 

I don't think he ever came downstairs and joined the party, but the image of him stayed with me the rest of the night. He had dark wavy hair and dark, penetrating eyes. That's what stuck with me. The way he looked at me, into me. My dislike for TraciTiffaniJenni increased irrationally  because she had been talking to him. Flirting with him, I was sure. This is going to sound so totally made up, but I swear thinking about that moment when our eyes met made the hair on my arms stand up. 

I spent a couple of weeks trying to think of ways to ask Scott about his brother without sounding like a total lunatic. Then fate and cheap beer brought us together again. This time post-graduation, at another friend's party. I walked into a room with my girlfriends and there he was with Scott, the ubiquitous red solo cup in hand, talking in a group. I got that buzzing feeling in my head again as I walked towards him. I saw him smile at whomever he was talking to and felt butterflies. I felt ridiculous. 

I talked to Jack the rest of the night, and I was probably trying way too hard. I wanted him bad. I was flirting my little heart out, even though half of the time I couldn't even hear what I was saying because of the buzzing in my head. Just seeing him smile at me, look at me with those dark eyes, made my knees weak and my insides all melty. I had never been affected like that by someone I had just met. There was this electricity between us that I could feel, racing all over my skin.  I knew, without a doubt, that Jack was going to be the first guy I had sex with. I KNEW it. I WANTED IT! I just had to get him to ask me out first. Which he did by the end of the night. He could feel it to, I could see it in his eyes. And ... I remember exactly what I was wearing.

And this is how I met the man who would eventually become my Master. The man who would possess me like no one else ever would. Or could. He helped me discover who I really am, and what I really need, and it has been a journey both exhilarating and heartbreaking.

It's a story I plan to tell as this blog progresses. I've never written a blog before, so please read with some patience, if you're reading at all. 

Oh crap! I promised in the title to explore why I want to bite everyone I make out with! Well, maybe I'll get to that in Part 2 of Sexual Awakening. I bet you can't wait.

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