My past had been full of men telling me I was too fat. I’d be really pretty if I would just lose some weight. Or, when I expressed my insecurities I was told to just get over it. One guy even said to me, “shut up and spread your legs. All that shit doesn’t matter”. I remember trying to make that the sweetest thing anyone had ever said to me. In my brain I thought, he doesn’t care that I have curves. He doesn’t care that my stomach isn’t flat. The next day it was clear he didn’t care about me at all. There was nothing sweet about it. He couldn’t be bothered with how I felt. He just wanted to get off. Sex for me became obligatory. I stopped caring if I enjoyed it. I just did it because that is what a girlfriend, fiance, wife does. Orgasms were rare and never from actual fucking. I was pretty sure I was defective in some way. Physically or emotionally it didn’t matter. I knew there was something wrong and I knew it was me. All of my friends boasted about the amazing sex they were having. It had to be something wrong with me.
Then, I met Him. We had moved from innocent flirting as friends to discussing our preferences in the bedroom as a little more than friends. Everyone knows when things go to that place that you aren’t just talking sports and the weather anymore. He mentioned he felt he would be too dominant for me. He knew a little of my sexual past and he knew my insecurities. He knew I was interested in more than just standard sex. I had baggage. Much of me held onto every hateful word and comment I had heard from the men and women of my past. I shared these memories with him and how it made me feel. We had amazing deep conversations about what sex should be like and how to get there without bringing the past with me. He thought it was terrible that men had treated me that way and said those things to me. Admittedly, I wasn’t sure if he was being honest with me. What else would a man wanting to get me into bed say? I agree the memories and events of my past were painful and it has left a mark and embossed my opinion of myself so deeply that I find it difficult to believe anything else. If men, or women, were being honest about wanting to be with me, I couldn’t bring myself to believe them. He was my friend and even though we hadn’t been friends long I felt I could trust him. It was instinctive and I had no fear that he would hurt me like I had been before. I knew his intimate pleasures and I was curious. He had this natural confidence that overwhelmed and excited me. Those memories and experiences of the past crept back into my mind and mingled with the hot sexy thoughts I had of him and made me instantly feel ridiculous for thinking he would ever entertain being with me.
“I am nervous to be alone with you,” horribly blurted out of nowhere.
“What are you afraid of,” he asked. More direct than I was prepared for.
“I am afraid I will be very nervous and too self conscious to be naked in front of you.”
“We will get you a slip to wear so you won’t be completely exposed. In time I will help you find yourself as sexy as I do.”
And I was done! He did not say that I should lose weight and then I would feel better. He did not say I should just get over it. Perhaps he saw the broken parts of me, but they did not scare him away. If he saw it as a challenge it wasn’t one that frightened him or one he couldn’t be bothered with. Without skipping a beat he found a solution to make me feel better about the situation so I could enjoy myself. What kind of man does that? What kind of mystical powers did he have that no man I had ever met did not possess. His words had me instantly wet, flushed and a little off balance. Ok, a lot off balance. I got myself together and responded,
“I would like that.”
“Then I want you to go and buy a slip. A black one. Have it fit slightly tight because I want to see your curves. Not so tight that you are uncomfortable. Will you do this for me?”
“Yes Sir, I will” I responded without even realizing what I had said.
And there it began. I bought the slip the next day and I have been obeying his request ever since. It took weeks before we actually made love for the first time. There were a lot of conversations, texts, phone calls, and sharing before he would take me into his bedroom. I was beginning to wonder if it would ever happen. He never told me why we didn’t make love or mess around. Those old feelings lingered close enough to make me wonder if he was growing bored with me. Looking back now I know with every word I said he listened and responded in a way that made me feel at ease. Not only sexually but had me liking myself again, if only just a little.
By the time we actually did make love for the first time, I didn’t wear the slip. I didn’t need the slip. He has never even seen the slip. That night, July 13th 2011, was the most amazing, emotional, sexual and intimate experience of my life.
If he ever reads this blog, at least he will finally see the slip for the first time!