Years ago I found myself in a flirtatious back n forth with someone who was obviously trying to impress me with talk of female worship. He boasted of how he treats his lovers like queens and serves them graciously. I do enjoy pampering, like any one else, but does it get me hot? No. Maybe I’m just a brat, because I rarely find it titillating at all… I just think I deserve it.
Well, being the brat I am I had to throw him off his well rehearsed spiel. I told him, I’m not a queen in the bedroom, I’m actually a frog. Eager to rectify this sudden display of self debasement, he assured me I wasn’t a frog at all. Why would I say such a thing?
I was just bored and wanted to derail the conversation. Not that what I said wasn’t rooted in truth. I’ll get entirely way too candid here and let you go back with me. It all started at that stage in one’s life before any sexual awareness is present, but things are getting coded. Just a happenstance discovery in nature as I waded through the low tides of San Luis Obispo. It was a giant sea slug. About 10 inches long and 12 inches in diameter… I real chonker. But as I lifted it up out of the water the integrity of its shape flattened and stretched. Almost paper thin in my palm and oozing off to the sides. I quickly put it back in its rightful place, scared I had injured the poor thing. But I of course pulled it back up to show to my cousin who was terrified. His discomfort only emboldening me more. So I chased him around the shallow water with the slug bouncing and flattening in my hands. I never forgot about it. Tinged me with power and guilt. It’s oozy form creeping into my adolescence. As I pleased myself my mind would often return to some nebulous form that was not too dissimilar from the slug. I’d imagine finding some unidentifiable blob and just wrecklessly rubbing against it, pushing it into my flesh. Like many desires it started off abstract, nebulous like this sea slug. But one night it sprouted legs. Just like a tadpole.
It was an especially humid night in Memphis, I found myself drenched in sweat next to another slippery body. We were on tour in a band which meant we had to make do with whatever space that was generously offered to us. In this case it was a reappropriated closet turned bedroom. No window, pitch black with the lights off. So when our bodies slid together we were in a deprivation chamber to sight making all of our other senses more attuned. My mind went back to the slug. Mounted on top of this warm beating blob I gyrated and felt a slimy pulse that transcended my bodily form. Fluids oozing out of so many holes, it was impossible to identify where what strand of slime originated from. It didn’t matter as we slipped around. My thighs held a steady rhythm that our digging fingers and ribbons of drool complimented so well. I went to lean in deeper as I approached climax and pushed a huge vibrating burp out of my partner. Something that would pause an entire room in any other context but here we were to possessed. We soon exploded under my thighs. When all was done we were both melted and in a state of disbelief, parts of us still pulsing. That’s when I said, I think that's how frogs do it.
This slug had implanted itself into my consciousness long ago, and hadn’t fully formed until this night. Like my sexuality experienced some amorphous evolution from sea creature to amphibian. I was just approaching my 30’s at this point. What preceded this was a sex life full of self consciousness and performance. A setback you inherit being human… a femme raised one at that. I was hyper-aware of my angles and the inescapable gaze young girls experience. Like many I didn't have much self-possession within the realms of my own pleasure. This night was different and significant to say the least. I had to go through my own evolution from primordial blob. Getting back to the basics as they say.
I of course didn’t tell this godess worshiper any of that. It would have been entirely way too much. But I did tell him simply I like to use all my drool and muscular legs to forget I’m a woman for a moment and just feel pleasure. He of course was speechless. I didn’t go home with him, I just wanted to make him feel stuck at the bar for awhile.
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