I Should Have Known Earlier…that I am a submissive
As I look back on the last 50 some odd years of my life, I realize that I was a submissve meant to be in a relationship with a dominant. There were early signs that, if I had been paying attention, would have informed me of my true nature. I’d never been an aggressive male even though my circumstances growing up could have easily created that man. I never pursued women; I waited for them to make the first move. Once I had more than a handful of lovers under my belt, I always made sure my partners had a good time. Putting in the extra effort so that I could have the satisfaction of knowing that I made my partner orgasm.
As a young boy I was what some people would call “sensitive.” I didn’t care for sports to watch or play; I much preferred a good book several grade levels above what I should’ve been reading. Early on I noticed how pretty and soft girls’ underwear is…I kinda envied them for getting to wear pretty underwear and would steal panties from my friends’ older sisters when I’d visit their homes. Sometimes I’d wear them out of the house since I found them in the dirty laundry while going to the bathroom. To every one of LDS’s sisters, I’m sorry; trust me when I say it was with love and respect that I stole and wore your panties. Sometimes I’d wear their panties under mine to school, on rare occasions I would wear just theirs.
As I got older and became a teen, I started to “date.” More often than not, I would wait for girls to show their interest in me. I feared rejection. But when they did show interest, I couldn’t say no. Problems came from two areas, both of them mine. I feared rejection so much that there were few people I could say no to when they showed romantic interest in me. The other was that I was bought in to traditional male roles and behavior no matter how unnatural it felt. I think back to the girlfriends who wanted to make me their submissive, but I was too insecure to embrace something I really wanted.
I had a girlfriend in high school who wanted to put makeup on me and dress me in her clothes. I let my preconceived notions of what my role in our relationship should be get in the way of what it could have been. I wanted her to dress me up in her clothes, but I was too worried about people finding out that I let her do it to indulge in a fantasy situation. I’d kill for the opportunity to make out with my high school girlfriend in full make up and in drag if I could go back in time.
I didn’t realize it at the time but my paternal grandparents had a female led relationship. My grandmother didn’t drive and my grandfather drove her pretty much anywhere she needed to go. I thought she was giving up her freedom; she was using his. He’d grocery shop while she got her hair done every week, he made the evening meals and cleaned house as well as maintaining a beautiful yard. My grandfather was a drinker (alcoholic) who engaged in reckless behavior; he’d forget who he was sometimes. One time he was drunk and thought he was being funny when he was actually being hurtful. I remember she locked herself in the bedroom and wouldn’t come out, so my parents gathered myself and my sister to leave. I don’t know what was said, but I do know my grandfather never drank again after that and continued to adore and dote on my grandmother till the day he died.
My second girlfriend in high school was a sweet and beautiful girl who liked dangerous dominant type guys. I kinda liked them too, but I wasn’t one of them. I don’t remember how I ended up with this other girl in her parent’s home…but there I was and this girl wanted to make out and grind. She was gorgeous and an excellent kisser who made me see stars. My cock ached from her rubbing her denim clad pussy all over it. She didn’t care that I had a girlfriend. In fact, during the course of the evening…her boyfriend stopped by to pick her up and she sent him on his way while I hid in her closet. My first boss girl. I had never experienced so many different emotions in such a short amount of time. She was so dangerous. I often wonder what happened to her.
Often times these strong woman I was attracted to also scared the shit out of me. At the end of high school, I started dating a classmate I liked but never saw as girlfriend material, named Kelly. During beach week after graduation, I woke up one morning to her looking amazing in a matching bra and bikini set, sitting on top of me grinding her pussy against my hard cock. Kelly got up to leave and I complained about not having an orgasm, she grabbed my cock, squeezed firmly and told me to “get a grip.” I was wrapped around her little finger. I’d come visit her and we’d sit in the parlor to kiss and make out. She’d guide my hand under her waistband so that I could dip my fingers in her slick pussy. I could hear her breathing change as I brought her closer to orgasm. I chased her around all summer and even took in a cat I didn’t want because of her.
Layla came on to me as I dropped a friend off at his apartment, pulling her car up next to mine to chat me up. She was gorgeous and not afraid to ask for what she wanted. She was also ridiculously sexy. One night, we were making out and grinding on my couch when she made me cum…in my shorts, without touching my cock with her barehand, just her mouth on mine while she ground her beautiful body into mine. Every time I was around her I felt this radiation of sexual attraction that I’d never felt before. Whenever and wherever she touched me, I could feel the electricity. I was afraid of her strength and power. I also had racists in my family and I wasn’t ready to face them. I really regret that. I know I could have been very happy serving her.
Every now and again, I revert back to wearing women’s clothes. Today I have a small stash of clingy dresses and underwear I like, but when I was younger I’d rely on getting clothes from my female partners. Once, I was hanging out wearing my girlfriend’s workout clothes, getting stoned and jacking off, while she was at work. I wasn’t expecting her for several hours. I was having so much fun that I wore myself out and fell asleep…wearing her workout clothes. She came home and started to get into bed; I woke with a start. There I was dressed head to toe in her little workout clothes, sleep in my eye and trying to come up with a plausible explanation. If she had any inkling in that moment the potential power she could have over me, she would have called me out and made me admit what I was doing but without judging me. She could have followed my kink by “punishing” me, having me dress in her clothes every night to wait for her…she could have literally owned me. But she didn’t want to confront the possibility and was happy to turn a blind eye.
There’s a second thing I do that is related to the dressing in women’s clothes for me. I like to occasionally have sex with men, especially a dominant top. I like the feeling of being wanted, ravaged and fucked. I like the way a guy will put his hands on the top of my head to encourage me to deep throat him. I like the taste of his cum as I suck his cock dry. And as grateful as I am that MKH pegs me like a champ, the feeling of big strong hands guiding your hips so that he can penetrate you is pure release and submission. Those hands slapping your ass as he finds his rhythm and starts to rail you. It is a different type of submission that I’m really into. I could probably handle having a male sexual dominant in my life.
The funny thing is that the dressing women’s clothing and the heightened desire to be used by a man seem to be directly correlated with times of high stress in my personal life. I’m looking for a space where I can submit and enjoy the experience. I’m fortunate to have found that with my wife.
All the other strong women I was with before my wife were affair partners. One was very kind and generous to me, but she made demands and had expectations, I was never as turned on as when she would scold me. I also knew that she chose to be with me and one day she would choose not to. As I think back on it, her husband was her cuckold and I was her bull…and he knew it. I love her to this day and would run off with her in a hot second. Another woman I had an affair with was much more toxic and well aware of her power over me and would use it with abandon. I would be with her today if she had wanted.
My wife has pursued me through out our relationship and has made no secret of her attraction to me. When I started playing hard to get, she was relentless until she got what she wanted, me. She knows what she wants and how to get it. Before we entered into an FLR, my wife and I experimented with power exchange more as a sex game: tying each other up, pegging me, etc. At one point while we were still dating, she asked me to retain all my orgasms for her; we were practically there. I insisted on my “autonomy” not recognizing the benefits of an FLR and chastity; I was so dumb. I really wish I had started chastity when we were dating, but I knew nothing about it. I shaved my legs and armpits for running and cycling; she insisted I keep it up and groom my cock and balls too. Eventually she extended her control to painting my toenails to match hers. Now she keeps my cock and balls in a cage to use when she wants, and I’m happy serving her.
There were signs all through out my life that indicated that I was a submissive man, but I wasn’t able to embrace that label. It’s a shame because if I had just recognized and accepted what I wanted/desired/needed, I could have been happier earlier in my life. Ce la vie.
