Mouth

There is something so incredibly intimate about a mouth. Kissing, sucking, licking, tasting, swallowing…tongues and teeth and spit and words–words maybe most of all.
Time was, when sucking cock felt more intimate than sexual intercourse to me, when I would rather have had a man’s cock inside my cunt than my mouth.  That viewpoint has, oddly, changed somewhat, and somewhat recently.  I believe it is because of the incredible power that W has infused sex with, the act of fucking and being fucked, since I have known him. Sex, before, was about my power, and yet it was also a very passive act in many ways. You can get laid without being fucked, you can have sex without giving anything up.  You don’t have to connect in any way if you truly don’t want to, except in those body parts that actually, physically, connect.  I kept my power, I didn’t give any part of me up.  I just opened my legs.
With your mouth, on the other hand, you are actively and intimately connected to that person, you are drawing them inside of you–or they are pushing pieces of themselves into you–in a way that doesn’t allow you to disengage.  They are, quite literally, in your head.  To be that close to someone else’s body, to be so joined, is, like kissing, an act of trust on both partner’s part, especially when you think about teeth and tongues and breathing.  In kissing, you share breath, and saliva, your faces touch, you swallow that person into you.  There is communion.  Perhaps that is why, in some swinger relationships, fucking is okay, but kissing is off-limits.
Then along came W, and with him came an understanding of fucking and sex as his power, as his power over me, to use my body, to control me through sex, to control me by making me use my sex to service others.  By asserting his right to give my holes away, by owning my sex and my cunt and my holes in a way that forced me to reevaluate everything I had known or felt about sex, suddenly, intercourse became something far more charged, far more intimate–although, precisely because it was all about him, the intimacy was/is not necessarily with the person I am engaging in it with: it is an intimacy between he and I.  He changed everything I had thought about sex up to that time.
And yet.
And yet there is still something so elemental, so raw, about the mouth.  About something across my mouth, on my mouth, in my mouth.  About being silenced, or being probed, of having my mouth forcibly opened, of having gags and rope and cocks and fingers in it.  Fingers, especially.  It is an such a painfully intimate invasion to have my mouth probed, fingers shoved in, to have it explored in that way.
There’s always a danger, when you play with someone you don’t know well, of tripping across triggers that you didn’t know were there. “Landmines” we call them. Sometimes those landmines are bad. Sometimes they trigger painful reactions or memories. Most people that play at BDSM at all, and especially those that engage in “edgier” types of play, have encountered this kind of landmine.
Sometimes, though, those landmines explode into heat, liquid molten heat that you feel at your core, that is all the hotter for that element of surprise and shock.
Being kicked across the floor in this scene was one such unexpected landmine.
Having my mouth probed by a relative stranger’s fingers at Kinky Kollege was another.
I had spoken via email and on FetLife with B, from Chicago, several times prior to heading up there with Ad. I didn’t really know what to expect–contrary to what may appear to be the case, I’m actually fairly unsure of myself in the realm of setting up play dates. But, I knew I wanted to play with him on some level while we were in Chicago, if he did too.  He has mad rope skills, he’s articulate and funny (as I learned in listening to him give the “Kinky Freshmen” seminar) and he and his wife are both hot, to boot.  Why wouldn’t I want to play with him?
As I mentioned in earlier posts about KK, it was Ad’s and my first event together.  We had met and talked to B several times throughout Friday and Saturday, and had all agreed that if timing worked out, we would do something in the dungeon Saturday night.  What that something would be was as-yet to be determined.
I was nervous as I got ready in our room that night. I had no idea what to expect, both from a scene with B, and from a scene with Ad, which was set to happen first.  Ad had decided to “settle me down” from my state of high anxiety (a state I am frequently in prior to any event) by sceneing with me first.  But he and I had never scened at a public event either, so this was all new ground for us both.
I dressed carefully and conscientiously for Ad, in an outfit that I knew he would like.
I have to admit–I felt really pretty in my corset and phoofy skirt. Sexy, too, but, more than that…pretty. And seeing Ad look at me, grin at me, knowing he would be proud to be there with me, was so very sweet.
So, down to the dungeon we went.  We wandered around for awhile, looking at all the scenes, trying to decide where Ad wanted to set up.  Of course, being the attention slut that I am, I wanted to be front and center in the main dungeon! But there wasn’t room, and besides, I think that Ad felt more comfortable in a more secluded area.
But then it didn’t end up mattering if we were in front of no one or a huge crowd–when we finally found our spot, as usually happens, the entire world faded away anyway, and it became just he and I.
He did a lovely caning and spanking scene on me that had me floating and giddy by the end of it. Looking up after a body-wrenching orgasm to see an entire row of spectators enjoying the show may have helped keep me in that space as well.
And then later…
Later B and Ad did this incredible rope scene.  Rope all over me, pulling me, stretching me, pulling my labia out, opening me, and, at one point, pushing an anal hook into me and attaching it to a rope gag B had wound around my mouth so that I was stretched painfully from ass to mouth, my back arched, the gag biting into my mouth.
My mouth. That is what I keep coming back to, the feel of that gag, biting cruelly into the sides of my mouth; and later, when they released me from that, the feel of B’s fingers, sliding into and out of my mouth, so fucking intimate it was shocking…and sent a line of fire down between my legs so that when Ad touched me there, while B probed and pushed his fingers into my mouth, fucking me with his fingers as surely as if it had been his cock he was pushing into me, I came, gagging and choking and sucking desperately on his fingers.
He couldn’t have known the effect his fingers in my mouth would have on me. Hell, I was shocked.  But that is one reason I do what I do–to find those hidden spaces, those places that move and shock me.  To step on those landmines and let them explode.