The Sex Lives of KinkyMira and Friends

Kinky and filthy things that have happened to us, all explicitly told

Tag: #Mira (Page 22 of 24)

A Love Of Wetting

11 May 2018 /

I vividly remember the first time. My husband in the bathroom told to sit on the toilet, me a couple of feet in front of him lifting up my skirt, revealing that I was wearing a pair of full cotton briefs. He’d never known me wear anything other than a thong or nothing (apart from for my period), so he was quite surprised. As his gaze fixed on my panties, I began to slowly release the contents of my pretty full bladder. A quick powerful spurt made a decent wet spot right up front, and my husband got the idea what I was up to. I saw his eyes welded to the damp spot.

I knew he’d enjoy it. It was his idea in a fantasies discussion a few months before. At the time, I said I didn’t think it was my thing. But I kept thinking about it. I kept wondering what was in it, why anyone would do it?

It didn’t really appeal as I had issues when I was younger with bed-wetting and the thoughts of doing similar now didn’t exactly make me feel overly sexy. However, over time, I came to realise that this was one of those historic demons I needed to slay.

I didn’t know if I was going to repeat it, so I did my research, working out what fabrics and garments to use. But I didn’t experiment, I just shared my first attempt with my husband.

So, a small damp spot slowly got bigger and my piss started to drip from my panties. I didn’t have the bladder control I have now, so I couldn’t keep a slow stream forever, and soon the dam burst, and my piss fired out of my pisshole and literally poured out of my panties.

All too soon it was over. My bladder was empty and the lower parts of my panties were soaked.

After I gave him a good few moments to take in the view of my wet panties, I dropped my skirt and told him I was going to cook dinner whilst he cleaned up my piss. Then I left him to it.

A few minutes later, he loaded some piss soaked towels into the washing machine and set it going. Then he lifted up the back of my skirt and gazed at my piss soaked panties stretched over my ass. The warmth had now gone, and it was colder and felt wetter.

I intended to remove my panties and clean up before dinner, but my husband prepared my chair with some towels, so I lifted up my skirt and sat with my panties on the towels, eating my dinner still in my piss soaked panties.

Only after dinner did I shower, and then he fucked me very thoroughly.

So clearly he enjoyed it, but I have to admit I rather enjoyed it too. It felt incredibly naughty, and I did like the warm feeling it gave. As I started to doze off in his arms, my cunt filled with his cum, I realised I was looking forward to doing it again. I was thinking about slowing down my flow, and about how different garments and fabrics would behave.

It was only a few days later that I was home alone working and I wanted to finish the bit I was writing before I pissed. My throbbing bladder didn’t allow me to finish it, as thoughts of wetting came into my head, and I started thinking of which garment to try. I was in leggings and a thong, so I decided that would do. I stood in the bathroom in front of the full length mirror and released my piss as slowly as I could. I could see why he was mesmerised. Watching how the damp patch grew was fascinating. I loved the warm feeling as my piss spread across the fabric of the leggings. I realised that not only was wetting a great activity to share with my husband, it was also a great solo activity that I could enjoy if I was feeling kinky.

And so began my love affair with wetting. Over the next few months, I did a number of tests, and I came up with a few basic rules. Mesh panties are pretty useless for wetting, as the piss goes straight through them. Thongs aren’t much use either, as there isn’t enough fabric for the damp patch to spread. Cotton-based fabrics are much better, as the piss can travel along it and spread out a little. I found that thicker fabrics were more satisfying, as there was more resistance to the piss falling away, so it tended to travel along more keeping more wetness close to the skin – denim is a good example of this.

I read online that most people thought wearing panties under clothes produced a better wetting feeling, but, to be honest, I got the best feeling with no panties and tighter clothes. I bought a second-hand pair of skin-tight jeans; the sort I need to pour myself into. They produce one of the best wetting experiences I’ve had. The way the piss travels around inside the denim means you get a good wet coverage, especially along the underside of the ass where it meets the legs. The visual difference between wet denim and dry also makes it very good for watching.

With abandoning panties as I now have, my husband found shorts made of cotton, viscose and lycra. They are quite thick, but tailored to hug closely to the body, including down the ass crack and between the cunt lips. Without wetting them, they are slutty as fuck. But they are amazing when I wet them. They are light grey when dry, so dark grey when wet, and the thickness of the fabric makes the piss spread and move around inside them. When they are dry, you can see the shape of everything. When they are wet, you can see even more, and we have three pairs to keep us going. We’re keeping the jeans though, purely for wetting.

Another type of wetting that I do is to wear a long skirt (and nothing underneath) and to just piss. My legs and shoes get soaked, and so does the skirt, but it is quite a subtle form of wetting, and can be carried out outside with relative ease. In a particularly kinky variant, my husband lies with his head under my skirt and gets a face full of piss. In one of my favourite variants, I sometimes put my stockings and suspenders on, stand up squeezing my legs tightly together and then release my piss. The way it runs down the legs and leaves wet streams down the stockings in very appealing.

I enjoy wetting when I have a full bladder, but my husband sometimes likes me to be more extreme, getting me to indulge in a practice called desperation. That is where you hold on to your piss for so long that it becomes uncomfortable and even painful. I used to think that the stereotypical cross-legged crotch grabbing shots were for show, but as I’ve found out, if you are that desperate, those body movements happen naturally. The feeling as you no longer have to contain your piss and it erupts from your body is pretty amazing, and the relief is wonderful. I find I am so consumed in those feelings that I forget to look at the spreading wetness until my bladder is empty.

At the moment, I’m doing solo-wetting at least twice a week, and wetting for my husband a couple of times a month. I love it, and all those feelings from younger times have been banished. When I’m wearing clothes streaked with piss, I feel naughty, kinky and happy.

I Love The Word Cunt

25 April 2018 /

You may have noticed whilst reading this blog that I use the word cunt a lot here. It is my favourite word for so many reasons. It is so rare for a single word to be able to enrage, excite, upset, or offend – no other word can do the same. It is such a simple word, one syllable, crisp sound, straight forward spelling and yet it has so much power. Cunt is one of the few remaining words in the English language with a genuine power to shock.

I try to use cunt as much as I can both in the context of a vulgar word for female genitalia and as a term of disparagement, even though it is generally regarded as unsuitable for normal public usage. As a term of disparagement, it is second to none. Sometimes cunt is just the only adequate word to describe a person, it is the only word that contains the venom!

I realise that this is now the more common usage, but I think the word is best used for female genitalia. I use pussy in fairly polite company, but I use cunt as much as I can (including in this blog). I much prefer it. I love the way it sounds; I love the slight harshness of the word. I’m with those that think of cunt as a positive word, a badge of honour to be celebrated. I don’t subscribe to the belief that it is a disparaging term that reinforces a dehumanisation of women by reducing them to body parts. No, I’m proud of my cunt, and I’m proud to use the word cunt as frequently as I can without causing problems.

It is also the single word that gets my cunt instantly wet. My husband can lean over and whisper in my ear how he is going to fill my greedy cunt later on, and within seconds, I’m wet, horny, and looking for a way to get alone with him. It was the use of a whispered cunt that led to me removing my panties for him for the first time. It was the use of a firmly spoken cunt that led to me first opening my legs and letting my husband lick me. It was the use of a loudly spoken cunt that led to me being fucked over a fallen tree in a remote part of a forest. It was the use of a whispered cunt that led to the first time we fucked on someone else’s sofa.

I also use a lot of other cunt-based words and phrases. Firstly, vagina or vaginal are often inaccurate as terms which often should refer instead to a vulva rather than a vagina. That inaccuracy annoys me. I hate other euphemistic terms like snatch and clunge even more. I find vajajay to be mildly amusing, but don’t really use the term much. Pussy is the best of the rest, but I would happily use cunt exclusively if society would permit.

Secondly, the use of vaginal in phrases is inconsistent with the short crispness of the words anal and oral. Cuntal however is a term that is in keeping, and works seamlessly in all cases, (for example, anal sex, cuntal sex and oral sex). I specifically like cuntal and the cuntal region as they are clearly defined even if you have never heard the terms.

Thirdly, terms such as fuck are not specifically cuntal by nature. For us, a fuck could be almost any penetrative sexual act. (For example, if I’m going to fuck my husband, that means a strap-on buried in his ass). Therefore, to correctly specify the type of fuck, the word cunt is again better than vagina (e.g., ass fuck, cunt fuck and mouth fuck).

The first time I heard my husband use the word cunt was in the early days of our relationship when he said he wanted to do a cunt inspection. It felt so good to have him intimately inspect me in great detail, as I did (and still do) love any touch of him on my body, but I was also pleased by his use of the word cunt. When he saw the happiness and enjoyment I got from the cunt inspections, he added cunt maintenance (and later, ass inspections and ass maintenance too). We both still enjoy doing them all on a regular basis, and now we have Victoria, he has second opportunity for inspections and maintenance, and he sometimes has a cunt buffet (where he has two cunts available to lick at the same time and he can switch backwards and forward between the two). Unsurprisingly, he likes those!

As we are both very comfortable with the word cunt, we use cunt-based phrases regularly. He’s particularly pleased when I have a cunt leak; he loves the mixture of his cum and my cunt juice oozing out of my cunt given my pantyless state, especially when I am out and about. Where I can, I like to leave the mess for him to clean up, which he is normally eager to do. I’m not sure he realises the amount of willpower it takes for me to have a messy cunt, as historically, I didn’t really like being left in a messy state and would go almost immediately to clean up. He seems intent on making me have a messy cunt as often as possible, and all the practice is making it easier to leave it for him. He delights if I have a cunt pearl, which is the first drop of semen secreting from my cunt in a cream pie. He’s a very skilled cunt licker, after he was extensively trained in the task by some girls at uni. I also frequently do cunt skimming, where I wear no panties (obviously) and a skirt that is so short that you can see my cunt. I only do that in adult company though with people who will appreciate it.

There are so many other phrases that are just better with the word cunt. Cunt lips and cunt flaps are two I love (although I do use piss flaps in pissy contexts). Honey Cunt is a lovely crisp name for a dessert. My husband likes Cummy Cunt too, although that is more of a starter, and he often partakes of cunt gobbling, which is the act of viciously devouring a cunt.

We’ve also enjoyed cunt chugging, which is the act of pouring a beer or champagne into my cunt then turning me over to chug the drink directly out of my cunt, and afterwards, I would need to have a cunt flush, which is a good wash out with a douche or even shower attachment, a rare treat, but sometimes a necessity.

With the snow a few years ago, before I had my Mirena, the timing of my period was such that I was able to do a cunt slushy, which is when I sat in the snow and my period blood mixed with it, to create a pink slushy-like substance. That was fun, although rather cold! Previously, my period was never well timed, and I’d not been able to tick this one off the list before.

I have so many happy memories associated with the word cunt. I love the word cunt. I think it will be my favourite word for ever.

Not An Act Of Dominance

17 April 2018 /

My husband was lying on our wooden floor, his head resting on a small square pillow. He was staring longingly up at me, standing naked over him. He had a great view of my cunt and up to my 34H tits.

I knelt down, with the lower part of my legs either side of his head and my cunt lined up with his mouth. I wasn’t facesitting, I was taking the weight, but my cunt was firmly in contact with his mouth. He used his tongue to locate my pisshole and then latched his mouth in the right position. This was a well-rehearsed positioning; he knew exactly where he needed to be.

He also knew to just stretch this out a little. Each second he made me wait with a ridiculously full bladder was a second of the kind of agony I love, a second of danger, and when he was ready, and when he thought I could hold it no longer, he tapped me gently on my ass with his hand, and that was my signal to release my hold and allow my hot piss to flow out into his mouth.

It was a well-practised exercise, as we wanted my flow to be just right. Too slow and it was frustrating for him, leaving him sucking on air and having only a drop of piss in his mouth each time he had to swallow. Too fast and it flooded out of his mouth and went everywhere. It is quite difficult to regulate a stream when you have a bladder full to bursting, but it is something I’ve mastered fairly well over the months we’ve been doing this. With a flow that is just right, he can gulp down all my piss with a pleasing yet challenging rhythm and keep flicking his tongue over my cunt to keep me clean.

Once my bladder is empty, he cleans and dries me with his tongue, and then he’ll attempt to lick me to orgasm unless I sit up and move my cunt away from his mouth. Whether I get licked to orgasm is entirely up to me, but I rarely pull away.

We first explored this particular watersports act because he wanted to try it. I didn’t really, but I wanted to please him, so I did try it. I wasn’t expecting us to feel such an amazing connection doing it, and to enjoy it so much. There is something wonderful and indescribable about someone wanting to suck on your pisshole and drink your warm piss as it emanates from you. He isn’t interested in drinking it out of glass, just straight from my pisshole, and it is that touching that makes this a very special activity. It also brings feelings to me of a provider / provide relationship, where he is eager to feed from me and I am eager to provide, a bit like breast feeding I suppose. It is a very emotional thing for us to do.

I’ve mentioned this in a number of places, and very soon, it brings out all the comments about dominance and subservience. It is the norm with acts such as these that it is about dominance, that he secretly wants to be dominated. It must be, after all, why would someone do that?

Someone would do that because they love the connection with their partner, the emotions, the sensations. I wasn’t expecting to get an amazing emotional connection from it, but I do. I really don’t know why, but it makes me feel loved. It is much the same for him. He is amazed someone would want to piss in his mouth in such a way, and it makes him feel loved too. He has a thing about liquids emanating from my body, and it had to be not be messy so we can just do it at a whim.

It is one of the things that annoys me about a lot of kink related places; the assumption that an act is always about the same thing for everyone that does it. Whilst for many, it is about dominance and subservience, for us, this is an act about connection, about love, and yes, about drinking from me and of me. There isn’t an ounce of power games in our relationship, yet everyone thinks there must be.

After all, him giving me a dose of anal at 6 in the morning whilst I’m not really awake must be about him exerting power over me. Us playing games where I try to hold onto my piss until it is so painful must be about him exerting power over me. Me pegging him and trying to get his ass to take a larger dildo must be about me exerting power over him.

No.

None of it is about power. We love each other and we like doing things to each other to make us happy, give us pleasure and to show how much we love each other. We love doing things where we are intimate, where we are close and I have to admit I have excitement each time I break a taboo like this, even if I’ve done it before.

Of all the things that we do, of all the ways we are intimate, one of those most intimate is when we are participating in watersports. I think many people rule watersports out very quickly, focussing on the whole liquids and mess thing, without realising the intimacy and closeness it can bring.

Another thing people focus on is the whole drinking thing. But it took a couple of years to progress to that, and even now, I don’t drink it often, but it does not detract from my love of watersports. In fact, the most intimate watersports position doesn’t involve drinking piss at all; he sits on the floor on some towels, legs together and straight out and cock and balls resting on top of his legs. I sit on his lap facing him, arms around his neck, my face very close to his and my cunt quivering just above his cock. In this position, we can kiss very passionately, and when I’m ready, I can release my stream and it will land on his cock and balls. The training to hold my piss for a long time and to have a controlled release means the pissing and kissing can go on for quite a while. It is so intimate. We quite often carry on kissing long after the pissing has finished. I don’t want the situation to end.

A variant of that position is to rest the tip of his cock up against my pisshole, so that my piss has to force itself past his glans. If he is partially hard, we’ve found that he can hold his position against my stream, and this means that my piss sprays around and covers both of our crotches. That spraying is a joyful experience, but the positioning is hard to get right.

We’ve even on occasion managed to get me pissing whilst his cock is firmly buried in my cunt (in another variant of the same position). That is quite a difficult position mentally, as my brain wants to go sexy, and that invariably stops my piss from flowing. But the feeling he got was amazing: a focussed powerful jet of piss on the area of skin directly above his cock, again with the ricochet liberally covering both our crotches. I could feel the effect it was having making him harder, although that made it harder for me to carry on too.

Watersports gives us a level of intimacy that it is hard to surpass, and it has surprisingly become a big part of our emotional connection.

Sexuality Surprise (Part Two)

5 April 2018 /

I was discussing the sexuality of both myself and my husband with a tutor after an LGBTQ+ awareness session, and we pretty much agreed that it was likely that both my husband and I were demisexuals. But that wasn’t the whole picture, and she set out to show me what else was going on.

I had mentioned during the awareness session that I was bi-playful, meaning that I’d had a bit of fun with some women I knew, the kind of thing a lot of ladies do these days; you know, snogging, mutual masturbation, that sort of thing. As you may well know, bisexuality is romantic or sexual feelings or attraction to both men and women. I had been sexually attracted to certain women in the past, but again only to some I knew quite well; indeed, I did have some very confusing memories of friendships and misunderstandings, especially in my twenties. She suggested I view these bi tendencies through the lens of demisexuality.

She also made it clear that bisexual doesn’t mean an equal attraction to both sexes, so it is entirely likely that someone could be bisexual, and yet only have had serious relationships with one sex. That fits me perfectly.

Several studies comparing bisexuals with heterosexuals or homosexuals have indicated that on average bisexuals have higher rates of sexual activity, fantasy, or erotic interest, on average masturbate more and enjoy masturbation more, and on average are more experienced in different types of heterosexual contact. That too fits me perfectly. Especially when I’m in the mood, I masturbate a lot, we fuck every single day (at the moment) and I have a lot of sexual interests. I’ve also gone a lot further than many females do in terms of types of heterosexual activity, particularly with my husband.

However, when I started listing my sexual contact with females, there was rather more than I initially thought, and actually, given the steamy sex I’ve had with women, I’ve gone well beyond “playful” but not really realised it. Indeed, a friend did talk to me when I was last between partners about not restricting my partner search to men, and I was actually quite keen on the idea.

So, the first question the asked was how many men had put cocks and fingers inside my cunt? Seven (the six who’ve fucked me and one lad with his fingers at college). How many women had put their fingers inside my cunt? Four (two at uni and two since). How many women had I put my fingers inside their cunt? The same four. And finally, how many women had I snogged? Proper snogs not quick pecks. Nine (the four above plus another two at uni and another three since).

Obviously, these are very crude questions, but the point she was trying to make was that I had more than enough bi experiences and thoughts to go way further than bi-playful. She then brought up my friend with Klinefelter syndrome who I was desperately attracted too and wanted to fuck. So, in her opinion, I’m pansexual rather than bi. Pansexuality is the sexual, romantic, or emotional attraction towards people regardless of their sex or gender identity.

Pansexual Flag
The Pansexual Flag

Add that to my demisexuality, and her opinion, my likely sexuality is actually “demi-pansexual” or “demi-pan”.

Demi-Pansexual Flag
The Demi-Pansexual Flag

The tutor then brought up the possibility of my husband being bisexual. Again, through the lens of demisexuality, he might be. He hasn’t really had any close male friends to speak of (he had lots of superficial male friendships of late, but nothing close to enough for a sexual attraction), but when I mentioned to him that I would like him to have a real cock up his ass just once (so that he can feel what I feel when he ass-fucks me), he said that it would all depend on who the man was, and that none of our current friends were right. That is such a demisexual answer and gives a hint to the fact that he might be bisexual too.

I did know that he had a few gay experiences with friends when he was younger, a few things like playing with cocks, rubbing ass cheeks together, sitting on naked laps, that sort of thing. Actually, talking to him later that evening, there was rather more to it. There was a small group who started exploring each other’s bodies. For example, whilst sitting on naked laps, the person who was being sat on masturbated the sitter, and if the person being wanked came, the cum was fed to someone else. This was often done under the guise of a distracting the person being wanked from playing a computer game. They never kissed each other on the lips, but they did kiss and indeed lick each other’s ass cheeks, finally ending up licking all down their ass cracks. By the end of their time together (i.e., up until they went to uni), they were sucking on each other’s balls and giving each other full and proper blow jobs, swallowing of course, with blow job technique taught to them by one of their older sisters. I did wonder during our early relationship why he was so much of a blow job expert (and not from the cock side). He never got anywhere near anal penetration, but he did thoroughly enjoy those experiences he did have.

The final piece to his sexuality puzzle comes with reference to our friend with Klinefelter syndrome again. One evening when my husband and I were chatting, I asked whether he’d like to play with our friend’s tits. My husband said yes; he thinks tits are tits and need to be played with. He also said how great it would be to play with both our friend’s tits and his cock at the same time, and about how much he’d love to do so.

The tutor suggested that this attitude to non-binary people suggests my husband is pansexual as well, making his likely sexuality “demi-pan” as well.

So, what does all this mean?

Well firstly, we had lots to talk about. Neither of us had ever considered our sexual orientation, and yet we have a lot of experiences and feelings that needed to be explored. There were lots of stories to be told (some of which will be recounted here), and lots of thinking to be done. And lots of fucking; all this talk of sexuality, attractions and old sexual contact made us both really horny, so we ended up fucking the night away during many a discussion.

To us, labels usually aren’t usually important, but in this case, discovering our demi-pan identities has proved to be reassuring. The main thing it has done is to make sense of the reasons for us feeling the way we did in our prior life and encounters. It all makes sense now, where previously, it definitely did not.

It’s also given us a little nudge to explore our sexualities further when opportunities arise. It primarily led us to us a decision to fuck other people (as a couple), both a way of exploring sexuality and of finding interesting ways to fuck. It has, for example, show us that we need to sort friendships out before we could take a full part in a swingers club. It also gives me hope that one day I’ll see a big hard cock driving into my husband’s asshole.

We’ve never been so comfortable in our own sexualities as now and having labels has proved to be wonderfully comforting and therapeutic. We’ve been able to make connections and friends in the demisexual and bi/pansexual communities, and have even met some other demi-bi and demi-pan people; our people, a surprisingly small group.

Sexuality Surprise (Part One)

31 March 2018 /

I honestly didn’t expect to go to an LGBTQ+ awareness session and come out having discovered stuff about my own sexuality and that of my husband. I mean I always considered myself to be a pretty much standard heterosexual, albeit one who has been a bit bi-playful in the past, and I thought of my husband as the same (although perhaps bi-experimental would be a more appropriate description for him given the circumstances).

But at the start of the session, the tutor ran through some of the many and varied types of sexuality, and one that I had not heard of before in particular really rang true with me. Indeed, my face must have been a picture, as the tutor just came to me and whispered that we’d talk about this one after the main session.

The description that rang so true with me was that of being “demisexual”. The major trait of being demisexual is that you only want to have sex with people you have a strong emotional connection with. It isn’t that you are denying your urges or restraining yourself, you just don’t get the urges at all without that strong emotional connection. It is not a preference, it is not a choice, it is not a personality trait, it is not a behaviour. It is a psychological thing. That one night stand with a stranger just isn’t going to happen. Demisexuality doesn’t mean you have to be in love with them to want to fuck them, just that you have a decent emotional attachment of some sort (a good friendship is enough). That does lead to confusing relationships, and indeed, I was wrought with feelings over my now husband because we had been friends for ages, and I didn’t think he saw me as a potential partner.

I have known and been attracted to other people before, but not been able to pursue them, including the tantalising prospect of fucking someone with a cock and tits, all totally natural. He has Klinefelter syndrome, so he has two X chromosomes as well as a Y chromosome, and whilst he presents as a male, he is intersex, and I was desperately attracted to him. However, he was (and still is) happily married, so that liaison hasn’t been able to progress.

Demisexuality has been described as the antithesis of the fuck without feelings model. It is not an admirable choice but is an innate orientation. Demisexuals are not choosing to abstain; they simply lack sexual attraction until a close relationship is formed.

Two thirds of demisexuals aren’t much interested in sex at all. As you may have gathered from this blog, I’m not in that group! The other third are interested in sex, but only on the basis of an emotional attachment, and that’s where I sit. This doesn’t of course imply monogamy; a demisexual could easily have an affair or fuck multiple people inside or outside a relationship, but only with an emotional attachment to the other parties.

There are a further number of ways I fit the demisexual profile.

  • I knew every one of the eleven people I have fucked to various degrees before I opened my legs for them. The one I knew the least was still someone I’d met half a dozen times and someone I had struck up a really good rapport with.
  • I have never wanted to fuck random strangers I’ve seen in a bar. People seem to want to do that a lot. I can look across and think “nice ass”, but that doesn’t bring with it a desire to fuck them. I’ve never understood it when one of my female friends sees a man walk into a bar and she instantly decides she’s going to fuck him before the night is out. I didn’t get it. I thought I was weird. Turns out I’m demisexual. Of course, in this age of swipe left and swipe right, superficial choices are all the rage, and demisexuals really struggle with these ideas.
  • Further to that, I never quite understood that concept of “fancying” someone. I always took it to mean rather liked the body and would want to fuck them for that reason. More meat market than emotional attachment. Once I started fucking, I realised that sex for me was about emotional attachment as well as physical attraction, and thus “fancying” made even less sense.
  • I’ve struggled on dates, to the point that I didn’t even bother trying to go on a date in the last decade. For my last four relationships, I started out as good friends and a sexual relationship grew out of that. Dates confused me. How was I meant to make a judgement on someone in one evening, especially when there is all this social etiquette about dating, and often people try to hide the real them to get their date to say yes? Furthermore, people seem to put a lot of faith in looks and a superficial “personality”, as often seen on dates. I’ve never understood this, and I’ve always put a lot more on their proper personality, as revealed in the comfort of friendship over a longer timescale.

Being demisexual fitted me well, and even before I discussed it with the tutor, I felt a sense of relief that I had found the reason for all those weird issues that I’ve had all throughout my life. I went for a coffee with the tutor afterwards, and ran through all this, and she agreed I was likely a demisexual.

Demisexual Flag
The Demisexual Flag

We then went on to discuss my husband. He has only fucked sixteen women, and he too has known all of them (in fact, the shortest he knew any of them was three months and he had a number of social events with them beforehand, so he really got to know them). He actually went over three years not fucking anyone because he didn’t feel a suitable attraction. I even wondered if he was asexual before we got together, because I saw little evidence of any sexuality (not even male-typical leering or comments). The only evidence I had was his eyes popping out of his head when he saw my tits in a corset, but I thought that was likely shock rather than attraction. So, he’s even more stereotypical demisexual than I am. I’ve never had a long period without fucking, he has. Demisexuality has been described as “Love before lust” and this is certainly true for him. When he came to visit me and he decided to kiss me, sex didn’t even cross his mind, not until I mentioned it some days later.

It isn’t unusual for two demisexuals to form a long-term relationship, particularly as their viewpoint and experiences of trying to form relationships are similar. Like some demisexuals, we both have very high sex drives, and indeed those sex drives increase as the closeness of the relationship improves. We both have a much higher sex drive now than with previous partners, and both our frequency and range of activities continue to grow. That puts us in the top 5% of demisexuals for amount and intensity of sexual activity; there are far fewer of those than those demisexuals that are nearer asexual. We fuck like rabbits, but rabbits that have a strong emotional bond.

In my tutor’s opinion, we were both demisexuals, and I was starting to feel quite good about our sexuality and was keen to discuss things with my husband, but then the tutor threw in a curve ball……

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