This is going to sound kind of stupid, but do you have any kissing tips? I feel like I don’t know how to kiss properly lol
Aw bless you anon: It’s not stupid and it’s really difficult to answer.
Not least because kissing is all about compatibility: someone who is a great kisser for one person might be a terrible match for another person. Not everyone likes the same kind of kissing.
Don’t be afraid to tell your partner that you are shy, nervous, not experienced, invite them to guide you to kiss them how they like to be kissed.
I KNOW THAT’S NOT WHAT YOU ASKED FOR!
Okay, some kissing tips that work for me:
- Don’t go straight into an open mouthed tongue-kiss like some hungry maw opening up the jaws of death and shoving a snake down there
- You are tasting something, someone, delicious, take your time, no rushing
- *Feel* every touch, pay attention to how your partner’s breath feels against your skin, how soft their lips are, how lovely it is just to be that close
- Touch their face or neck when you kiss, bring them close
- Start with slow, soft, gentle exploratory kisses, keep your lips soft, let them cling to your partner’s lips when you kiss
- Pay attention to their reactions: if it seems they like something, do more of that
- Use your tongue to *taste* them, start slowly, maybe the tip of your tongue to lick just inside their mouth
- Touch their tongue with yours when they offer it, but don’t tackle it, lick, move on
- Take notice of how they are responding and match them so that you are in it together and in synch
- Vary the pressure, kiss harder, then draw back a little to see if they will reach for you
- Build up to full-mouthed hot-tongued passionate kissing: it’s still kissing, but closer to devouring them, like their mouth is some kind of candy that you want to take a bite of, but can only mouth, lick, suck at
- Ease off to breath, swallow, or otherwise regroup
- If you feel like moaning, whimpering, gasping or otherwise making noises into their mouth, do it. Hot.
I hope that helps.
I went flyboarding a few weeks ago.
“A flyboard is a type of water jetpack… A flyboard rider stands on a board connected by a long hose to a watercraft. Water is forced under pressure to a pair of boots with jet nozzles underneath which provide thrust for the rider to fly up to 15 metres in the air or to dive headlong through the water.” – Wikipedia
And when they say ‘dive headlong through the water’, they really mean ‘crash inelegantly while screaming’.
It looks like I’m doing something fancy in these fabulous action shots, but both of them were taken seconds before the aforementioned inelegant crashing…
Femdom stereotypes are rife, and they get perpetuated by both sides of the slash. It’s really frustrating to see the same thing come up over and over.
Her: I’m supposed to be a cold hard bitch
Him: You’re supposed to be a cold hard bitch
Her: ~has a bad day, cries, needs cuddles~ Oh noes, I’m not a real dom!
Him: Wow, you’re weak. You’re not a real dom!
Rinse and repeat.
It’s the curse of inexperience and fantasy and it’s so very common. And often it will take several goes at failed relationships where this expectation over-rides humanity to realise that it’s really stupid and destructive.
The result of those failures for many women is a confidence blow that has them believing that they aren’t ‘a real dom’ and they leave any idea of D/s behind them because that’s not who they are.
But it’s not who ANY of us are. It’s the realm of pros and fantasies and porn and play and every media depiction of femdom ever.
I find it horribly depressing.
Being dominant means different things to different people. For me it’s ‘I run the relationship and he follows’. That means when I’m having a shitty day and want to cry, he gives me hugs and cuddles because that’s what I want. And also because he loves me and wants me to feel better. It’s not about me hiding who I am because I’m not ‘supposed’ to be a real human being.
Reverse the above. It’s just as true for submissives.
When we were together long ago, in the distant past, he believed that I had betrayed him.
Not just ‘betrayed’, but ‘BETRAYED’ in all caps with a bright neon red, sharp and harsh, and so ugly it can barely be looked at head-on.
That betrayal impacted him deeply, coloured all of his relationships since me with a murky grey cloak of fear and self protection. Years of it.
He got over it, of course, put it behind him, carried on. Lived and loved and worked at avoiding the potential for that sort of hurt ever again. That meant putting away some pieces of himself, and keeping away from women like me.
I knew none of this. Not an inkling.
After our relationship ended, our separate lives went on, we lost touch.
Recently he contacted me. We talked.
Between that post and this one, he brought up the betrayal: the pain, the bitterness, the anger, even hatred that my betrayal had caused him as a young man. There was no blame in it. He laid it out as a mature man looking back at his history and laying some of it at my feet, to shed light on it. Although it seemed like an ancient artefact, the remnants of all of those awful feelings were clear: Ragged, chewed up, spat out, hardly recognisable, but still being afforded breath there in the back of his mind. Or somewhere in his heart. Wherever these harsh experiences of life continue to live long after they are past.
The thing is: the betrayal never happened.
It was a misunderstanding, an unfortunate happenstance, easily cleared up in a single email. I wrote that email immediately in reply, banging it out in a kind of head-spun disbelief that he had believed such a thing to be true.
Both of us reeling that this lie had festered as a truth in his mind for years. His shock to discover that this thing that had caused him such terrible pain had never actually existed. My shock that he had carried such a hurtful untruth around with him for so many years and I never knew.
The truth came out easily, but unravelling the consequences has been a little more complex. I have been almost morbidly curious to understand the impact of learning the truth for him: it is a kind of rewriting of history because of the way it coloured his view of me, of the relationship, of his place in it. I can’t imagine it, really, and I think he has handled it with much more grace and maturity than I would have.
He has shared snippets of where it has taken him, glimpses which I find fascinating and for which I am grateful. He sees a kind of rueful humour in it, skipped past the what-ifs, and moved on to a sense of relief at being able to let those tattered negativities go into the ether. It is closure of the kind you hear about.
As for me, I have apologised profusely for his hurt, but what I am *really* apologising for is the fact that I created a relationship where my young submissive didn’t feel safe enough to come to me at the time and ask “What’s this?” so that the misunderstanding could have been avoided in the first place.
For that, I’m deeply sorry.
I’m going to pre-emptively ask commenters to please not play the ‘blame game’ here. I expect my regular readers wouldn’t dream of going there, but I’ve seen too much of it lately and I want to give fair warning that I won’t hear a word of it.
Thank you so much to everyone who entered.
Expect a copy of the book to arrive in your inbox shortly.
I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.
After reading a post from a submissive man essentially saying, “I really like this dominant woman, she makes my heart flutter, but I’m concerned that I’m too eager to do the small and insignificant things she asks me for this early in our discussions: I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that”, I reflected a little on the oddness of that.
And it led me to this realisation:
You know what I’ve found?
Vanilla men are often WAAAYYY more secure in being sweet and lovely than many submissive men and as a result, they often do ‘submissive behaviours’ more easily and naturally. It’s weird.
Vanilla man: “Hey, I really like you, LET ME DO ALL THE SWEET AND LOVELY THINGS FOR YOU!!”
Submissive man: “Hey, I really like you. You want what? Maybe I shouldn’t do that. She will think I’m weak. I’m not ready to submit yet. Is this submission? I should stop doing that. Does she want my money? Why did she ask for that? Should I do what she asked for? I’m not HER submissive. Am I doing this right?” and etc.
Gross generalisations, I know, and I’m pre-emptively inserting all the caveats here (and pointing out specifically that this does NOT apply to any of my friends)… ~caveat caveat~.
But still, as far as generalisations go, my experience does bear that out.
I’m not going to parse out the possible reasons why (not least of which is my own skewed and limited sample size): I’m just going to leave this here for contemplation.
I haven’t talked about my body project for a while. There are a few reasons for that, but the main one is that I’ve been in a kind of ‘maintenance mode’ for quite a while and that’s boring to write about.
No further gains, in fact, something of a slip from what I consider my peak.
The main reason for the flattening out is that I realised that for all of the work I was doing (and at the high point, it was a LOT, including seriously good eating and protein loading), I really wasn’t getting my body into the shape I really wanted. I think my goals were too lofty to be honest. And without a solid goal that I think is achievable, I lose motivation.
The gym was boring me stupid and I felt like I was phoning it in, so I wanted to try some other things instead. So recently I changed it up a bit to try and get some of that motivation back.
I now have (and use) memberships for the gym, pilates, a high ropes course and rock climbing. And I’m considering trying out crossfit.
I really WISH I was as fit and ripped and strong as all this makes me sound. But I’m not.
Not having a habitual routine and relying on the weather (ropes course is outdoors) and on others (rock climbing requires a partner) makes substituting other activities for the gym all a bit hit and miss.
I’m a woman who likes habit and ritual and accountability and metrics so that things like exercise just become part of my daily routine and I can measure results and feel smug about myself. Secretly (well, okay it’s no secret!) in my heart, I am super lazy and I *will* latch onto excuses why it’s all just too hard and flop on the couch instead (sound familiar? I KNOW, RIGHT?!).
I’m a bit scared of crossfit, not least because I feel like it will stress my body pretty badly and I have issues with my ankles, knees, and back (I am a delicate flower!) and really don’t want to risk an injury. But also because it always looks so ‘rah rah!’ full-on with the irritatingly happy groups and the team work and everyone knowing your name and all that social crap that I hate. But there’s a special offer at the moment that I’m really tempted by.
So yeah. I’m probably going to sign up to another new thing to try and knock me out of this lethargy.
Wish me luck!