A visit from a boy.

One of my boys (I can’t remember if I gave him a name; I think not) spent the night recently. He’s lovely: smart and pretty and sweet. Also, young. Well, like 24 or something; not scandalously young. For some reason, knowing a younger man’s actual age doesn’t ever faze me but knowing his birth year makes the age difference hit home. Just for funsies I asked him at one point what year he was born (shut up, I can’t math). NINETEEN-NINETY-ONE. We’d been watching Stranger Things on Netflix and I was on some level assuming that he too was grooving on the eighties vibe of the show, even if he had to remember back to being a toddler. But he was not alive in any part of the eighties at all.

Sometimes I feel so alienated from men; they just so totally don’t grok what it’s like to be a woman and be thought of by a guy as a prop to use in his sexuality rather than as a person with a sexuality of her own. I told this boy how I’m really enamored with him because he’s been really good at just…letting my body do what it does, in bed. Learning what gets me off and doing it without imposing a bunch of wishes or expectations. I told him that a lot of guys seem to think my orgasms are a performance for them rather than a bodily function that works in a specific way, and so they ask/tell me to orgasm when they’re not doing anything that would reasonably cause this, or they tell me how awesome it would be if I orgasmed from this or that thing that they like doing. And I’m sick of it. I told him how it’s been especially frustrating for me lately because my body has been changing and I can’t get off in the ways that I used to and it rubs salt in the wound when a partner makes a big huge deal about how he wishes I’d get off in some way that I once could but now can’t.

One thing I mentioned was that I used to be able to get off by humping stuff, but now I can’t, and it makes me sad because I like the idea of using a guy’s passive body to get me off. He was like “Ooooh, I would love it if you humped me and came all over me!” and I didn’t say anything to that but Jesus Christ dude learn to read the room. It’s depressing as hell that even the good guys in my life have hints of the same shitty objectifying behaviours, let alone that someone would display such a behaviour literally in response to me talking about how inappropriate such things are.

But we got to talking about the humping thing a little more and it came out that the boy didn’t care if I incorporated a vibrator into the mix – he didn’t seem to have any big specific picture of how getting humped would go – he just wanted me to get off literally on his body, one way or another. And he kept referring to it as being fucked. He didn’t qualify that with “…y’know, even though nobody’s getting penetrated.” He simply equated me using his body to get off as him getting fucked, literally regardless of what I actually did to get there. I liked that.

Sometimes when I’m alone I get off by laying the Hitachi on a pile of pillows, straddling it, and humping. Humping stuff was the first way I ever learned how to masturbate, and although I figured out other methods later on, it still does call to something primal in me when I’m grinding my weight down into something and really engaging my hip and stomach muscles. I need to hump a vibrator these days – a stationary object doesn’t provide enough stimulation – but I can still get there. It seemed feasible that I could replace the pile of pillows with a person. And this boy – as I’ve said – is open minded and tends to just want me to get off however I do, without trying to make my orgasms conform to some image in his mind.

I had him lie on his belly. I propped the handle end of the Hitachi against the mattress between his legs so that the head of it rested on his ass crack. And I climbed aboard.

For some reason in my fantasies of objectification-through-humping the guy in the equation was always totally passive and silent. I’m not sure why. I guess for me to eroticize the idea of “using” a guy, I had to picture him as being an unwilling participant? I don’t even know. But the idea of the bottom being passive was so ingrained in my head that I just kind of assumed that’s the only way it could go.

But when I actually began to hump this boy, he gyrated his ass up at me. He made breathing and moaning sounds. He softly and breathlessly said “fuck me ohhhhh fuck me please” over and over. And it was amazing, both because it was hot as fuck and because dude didn’t use his submission as an excuse to be a passive lump. I assume all of his theatrics were exactly that – a performance for me – but I’m just so grateful and impressed at the way he was using everything he knew about me to make this experience as great as possible for me.

It took a while for me to orgasm – I kept getting stuck in my head, thinking about how stupid this whole thing might look to a third party and wondering if the boy was secretly finding me ridiculous and blah blah blah – but I did get there. I’d wrapped my arms around his chest for leverage and gripped his hips between my thighs and just gone for it. And afterward I rolled off him and he rolled onto his side and we looked in each other’s eyes and it was…kind of magical. Even though I’m sure there was nothing physical to legit make him moan the way he’d been moaning, the humping had clearly been a profound thing for him psychologically. His eyes were all hazy and he was acting fuzzy-brained and stunned. For like five minutes we basically took turns going “That was…that was, um…” and giggling and kissing.

And we lounged around in bed for a bunch more hours – including more sexual stuff and orgasms all around and me taking some naughty pics of him – and then he had to go.

I enjoyed his visit very much, but I’m an introvert and find people’s company a bit tiring after a while (although when I feel really close to someone, like I do with The Pedant, it takes much longer for that tiredness to kick in). So when the boy left I reveled in having the place to myself again. I ate junk food and watched NetFlix and went on FetLife, where I promptly got into a tussle with some douchebag who (of course) proclaimed that I was being mean to him because I was lonely and sex-starved and bitter. Because it can’t be that I just genuinely disagreed with the dumb shit he was saying, right?

I get a tremendous kick out of making douchebros angry, but it’s even funnier when one of them says I can’t get laid when in fact I’ve had two different guys over so far that week and am expecting another in two days. Of course if I told him that, he’d think I was making it up, so there’s no point. But I know.:D

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