Lying in bed one night, my lover began talking of a former partner of his. Telling me stories of her. I didn’t understand why he did this at the time, but in hindsight it becomes clear. Together they engaged in something called knife play. And when I asked what this was, I’m sure the look on my face said it all as he answered me. Perhaps he was waiting for me to respond with some form of curiosity or enthusiasm and when I didn’t a look passed thru his eyes that spoke volumes. A look that said I did not meet his expectations, that I was somehow less because I would not experiment in that direction. Whatever goes on between consenting adults is their business, but for me anything that reeks of violence has no place in my bed play and part of me withdrew from him after that. That one look was the beginning of the end for us. The sex became mechanical on his part as if going thru the motions was all he could muster. And it would take a few months for him to explode our relationship into pieces in a very public and humiliating way.
I had forgotten this incident until recently, a friend was telling me a story that was similar in nature that ended in the derogatory comment “Oh, you’re one of those vanilla sex kinda guys”. That was exactly the look I had gotten – that I was plain vanilla in a swirling smorgasbord world of sexual possibilities. And that by choosing to be vanilla, I was somehow inferior. Yet, I don’t think I am lacking in anyway. How could I be? I have been given what I believe are the perfect instruments for unbounded pleasure – my imagination, my open heart and an infinitely responsive human body. So, I don’t feel the need to hook my lover’s testicles up to a car battery or have him choke me to reach orgasm. But hey if that’s your thing, go for it. I am more than sufficient just as I am - capable of holding someone physically, spiritually, and emotionally without flinching or needing anything extraneous. Why would I need anything else when there is such joy in exploring my lover’s body with my eyes, with my hands, with my lips. Inhaling fragrances simultaneously familiar and exotic. Tasting of the richest banquet laid out just for my joy. Enchanted by simply watching the play of light across his skin while he sleeps. Comforted by the feel of his breath fanning my back as I drift off into the dreamtime. Reveling in the way our fingers, our lips, our legs, our bodies and our very souls can be interlocked for that brief moment in time and then be unwoven in the next, back into our seperateness. There is always something new if I look for it. Something beautiful. Something delightful. Something giggly. Something sacred. I don’t think there is more that I can ask for than that. And I kinda feel sorry for someone who can't see it like that because they are missing out. I am a plain vanilla sex girl looking for a plain vanilla sex man….whip cream and sprinkles optional.
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