Respect the S-Word
My body. My rules!
I’ve been wanting to write about this the past year, taking mental notes for when I was ready to use my voice. Luckily for me and you that it is today. I hope I can give it the justice it deserves, that I can express how much this means to me.
Respect the S-Word. My body. My rules!
Growing up I always knew I was different. I was “that” girl who loved to be sexy. I was aware of my sexuality and what it did to the boys. My favorite sport in high school was making out with all of them. Not all together though not that there’s anything wrong with that either. Don’t judge. *smile*
Madonna, Vogue era, was all the rave and girls like me ate it up. During that time we could be who we were, she gave us permission to be sexy, that we were in control of our body and we were allowed to have those desires. Corsets were introduced to my wardrobe and it was so much fun.
I can fondly remember those boys who let me kiss them and wrap my arms around their necks and those boys who I let grind on me. Feeling unsure hands touching me, exploring for their first time. Only a few who knew the perfect way to get me off. Those innocent moments will always be cherished by me. Again, I always knew I was different.
I loved making out with them. I loved the way they tasted, the way they smelled, feeling their strength. I loved touching them and I loved it when they touched me. Kissing, oh my god, I could kiss all damn day. I didn’t lose my virginity until 18 years of age, yanno, go ALL the way but I was well-versed in other things.
Blow jobs were a favorite of mine and I swallowed. Who knew that made me special? I thought ALL the girls were doing it. Oral sex, I only allowed one guy that pleasure because I was still in the shy slut phase. I didn’t become the shameless slut until my late twenties. Still not ashamed. I’m slightly amused at how much fun I used to have truth be told.
Note: I have a lot of fun now, more than back then, a lot more. Just to be clear.
I wasn’t like other girls. I had dark fantasies, raw wanton lust. Boys were my prey. I teased them, made them moan out. So much innocent fun. No one getting hurt. Just laughter and smiles.
Sadly.
Do you know what they called girls like me?
Sluts. We were called sluts. The Oxford Dictionary defines a slut as a woman who has many casual sexual partners. Again, I’m not seeing the problem if everyone is of age and consent to the act of whatever they choose to be doing.
So, kissing all the boys makes you one — a slut and licking their penis was just scandalous. It saddens me that we haven’t moved forward in this thinking. To make someone feel ashamed for who they are just isn’t right. After all these decades people are still called a slut like it’s a bad thing? I mean, seriously. I know what my body likes and I knew how to get it and was comfortable doing so, so I went for it and got it. There is nothing wrong with being sexual for pleasure.
We hadn’t coined the phrase “slut-shaming” back then but I wish we had because it’s exactly what people were doing and are still doing today.
I have nothing to be ashamed of. I was always in control of my body. No one talked me into it. My body. My rules! End of discussion. If I’m not going to let my southern Baptist grandmother guilt me about God and that sex before marriage is a sin then I’m sure as hell not going to let anyone else tell me what I can and cannot do to my own body.
My body. My rules! No one can be my voice. Society has taught us to be ashamed of our bodies. Ladies are taught to be embarrassed about their bodies. Cover your breasts, wear longer skirts were lectured to us.
I want everyone to know it’s okay to be called a slut. It really is. I see a slut as being a strong independent person who can make their own decisions about what happens to their body. If I want to have sex with him, him, her, him and them over there all at once in one day then it’s my choice. If I want to kiss every boy in school then it’s my choice. My body. My rules!
My life changed dramatically after I found the BDSM community. I discovered I wasn’t broken or in need of therapy. I found my home in the community among people that I admire and people that I enjoy giving my time to. I have found sexual freedom in my little part of the world. In finding BDSM I found out who I was and what I needed in a partner. I tell everyone that I believe my past relationships didn’t work in the long run was because I hadn’t found a strong Dominant man who knew who I was.
In my D/s dynamic I am adored for being aware of my sexuality. I am cherished for how my mind thinks and the things that I want to do and things I want to try. This community introduced me to my partner and in time We met in person, by chance, at a public kink event. We spoke through the whole event and got to know each other. He walked me to my car that night, I leaned up and kissed His cheek good-night after we exchanged numbers.
Two days later We met for dinner. It was a REALLY nice date. So here We are, years later a couple, We live together, We really do have a nice life, living the dream as they say.
He loves that I am a slut. He benefits from this asset that I have. I send Him sexy naughty pictures doing dark deeds in dark corners. I will rub all over Him letting Him know I want Him to F&*k me. I beg for it. I’m not ashamed of my desire to experience pleasure with Him. He knows what to do to make my legs not work. (True story — got out of bed to walk to the bathroom, fell, laughed, tried to get up, nope, had to crawl to the bathroom.)
Looking back, I wish there had been someone to tell me that it was okay to want to do such naughty things and it’s okay to be secure in my sexuality and how being a slut isn’t a bad thing involving consenting parties on both sides.
In this community, we are taught that “Consent is EVERYTHING” and it’s something I wish that was taught when I was in school and to school-age kids these days. I wish they’d tell the kids it’s okay to do these fun things IF YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE and practice safe sex.
Stop judging girls and boys that are secure in themselves. Stop calling them a slut. Stop being hateful. Lead by example and teach the younger generations better than how we were taught. It’s something I proudly teach my own children.
Respect the S-Word. Your Body. Your Rules! End of discussion.
Later on, I’ll tell you my other favorite S-word. Submission.
My definition of a slut — a strong independent person who can make their own decisions about what happens to their body. They are secure enough in their sexuality and not shy about it. A person who enjoys the pleasure of sex.
Sidenote of a passing thought — I wish I had started a punch card campaign. Ten kisses punched = One boob grope. Two cards allowed you to touch both at the same time.
