On rocks and stones

There are times when circumstances conspire to keep us from enjoying the type of sex we most prefer. Lately, I've had a number of issues that's kept that from happening -- kept me from being able to enjoy my body at all, frankly -- and this has me musing over my sexual history, because I have a track record of on-again off-again receptive sex.

'Stone' is a term that I first heard applied almost exclusively toward butch lesbians who derived no pleasure from receptive sex but did derive pleasure from making love to their (usually femme) partners. I've heard it applied differently since then (once I read that 'stone femme' means a femme who is attracted to stone butches...which didn't make much sense to me because logically I'd thought a stone femme would be a femme who doesn't enjoy receptive sex, but perhaps it can mean several things) but for a while I thought I might be stone myself.

Of course, I don't identify as butch or femme, but in terms of being-unable-to-enjoy-receptive-sex, I've been there for sure -- for most of my sexual life, really. I still go there far more often than I'd care to admit. (And I know that's not what stone actually means because my understanding is that people who really are stone can't turn it off or cycle through it, pretty much ever.) But there have been points in my life when I honestly thought I'd never be able to do more than just endure receptive sex for the sake of my partner, who seemed to want/need to reciprocate more than I wanted/needed to not allow that to happen.

When I was with bio-boys, that's how it always was. I can't describe how horrid it was to allow them to go down on me. No matter how communicative I tried to be, it never felt good. In fact, most often it was uncomfortable, verging on painful, and I always stopped it as quickly as I could and tried to distract them with just plain old regular sex, and I always faked my orgasms, just to get it over with. It wasn't them, really, it was me...I think.

Maybe I should have tried harder to tell them what felt good to me and what didn't, but the truth is that NOTHING felt good to me when it came from them. It wasn't so much that they touched me too roughly or in the wrong spot or anything. I just couldn't let go at all. I still often can't. How much of this is my own mental block and how much is my physical self, I still don't know.

So sex was something to get through and I came to enjoy being the non-receptive partner. I got a lot of satisfaction out of pleasing my lovers without actually having to allow anything to be done to ME because then I felt that I wasn't shirking my responsibilities in a sexual sense (and I did enjoy being sexual, if that makes sense, just not having to lay there and act out pleasure that I didn't feel) and this way we both enjoyed it.

All of this is a horrible segue into this: lately I haven't been ABLE to be receptive in bed, physically (partially I just can't take sex while I have my period, partially other stuff)...and it's the first time I've actually missed it. This is huge for me because when Daddy touches me it's...so different. I'm not afraid to tell him if I can't take being receptive on any given night and he doesn't take it personally, because we both know that soon I will want it again.

The interesting thing is that until we got together, we were both effectively stone. This was a big worry for me! Firstly, I thought I might not be able to satisfy him and he'd feel obligated (like I always had) to allow me to have him, and secondly I worried that I'd feel the same way I always had and we'd basically both be faking our way through our sexual relationship and neither of us would be satisfied at all. Happily, I was wrong.

But for the better part of the past two weeks, I've had to put a moratorium on receptive sex, and it's been HARD on me! I have loved being able to fuck him for hours and making him come and concentrating all of my attention on him and his pleasure, (I'm a pleaser and this brings me great satisfaction and joy), but I'm ready for my turn soon, please. I miss it, I miss our connection and the feeling of being so loved and safe and free to let go that I get when I'm in his arms that way.

So I can't say that I'm stone anymore. Perhaps I'm a rock sometimes, but those times are fewer and further between, and less about my mindspace than about my physical needs. This is big progress for me and it makes me very, very happy.