shibari: bondage erótico japonés

She was a fearsome little thing, could not be more than 5ft tall in heels, a pixie I called her. A fearsome, fiery lil pixie, and she wanted to try everything. Laying there, naked and bound open, I could not help but feel like a kid in a candy store. I was not about to pop her SM “cherry”, “I’m pick you like a god damned cherry tree” was what I think I said thru lips that tastes a mix of her, bourbon and the bit of rope I was holding in my teeth while I secured her legs tighter.

We all know the slang around “taking someone’s cherry”, to be the first, usually it refers to sexual intercourse, but when it comes to kink, there are a whole lot of “first times” to be had… if you are lucky. I remember getting my kink cherries “popped”, the first time I took needles in my flesh, my first pegging, the first time I put my entire hand inside another… the list goes on and on. Each time I was lucky to have a partner who took great love and joy in patiently sharing these new, and often terrifying, first times with me. Guiding my hand, quite literally in a few cases, those first mind blowing times.

Now don’t get me wrong, I love an experienced partner, someone who knows their bodies and understands what and how they get off. Lord knows I’ve been lucky enough to have some of my own “top cherries” popped by a very experienced bottom. No, what I want to write about today is that special moment you get when you get to share your sexuality with someone and in that most intimate of moments you can literally see them clicking the “like” button on their mental facebook of sexuality.

But why? Ego? Sure, everyone wants to be “the first”, lord knows my triple Leo personality is prone to such things… but there is more, I think.

In the case of the Pixie? Sure there was the obvious physical response, the way her body went from a nervous shiver to convulsions of pleasure when the candle wax made contact with her skin. The way she shook at her core, of course it may have been that I was so deep inside her I could almost feel her heartbeat through her sex, but you know what I mean. That moment in time, when the eyes roll back, the mouth opens and a smile is plastered so wide on their face that you fear it my cause permanent damage if it gets any wider.

Or is it the way that the mix of desire and fear combine to make an intoxicating smell, radiating off her skin in waves? Like heat off the desert floor, shimmering and warming my wicked, lustful desire to take this person’s trust in me and return it ten fold in pleasure and, if I’m lucky, a new understanding of their sexuality.

That satisfaction when they tell you, that one thing you did? Yeah, as soon as I heal/rest/recover I want you to do that again… and maybe this one thing that I was thinking about but never had the guts to try.

Of course, I have cherries of my own that need popping, but that dear readers is a tale for another day.