Saturday night out, and some phone sex.

So this past sat I had a pretty late night out. It was my first night back in town, and I kind of was on the prowl for some new meat. I needed a distraction. It came in the form of two sub par suitors. A sweet little Italian kid from NY, adorable and nice, but I'm not that girl. I don’t do little Guido, I’ve been there already, and it was called 19. Also met this DJ guy who was pretty cute but how can you take someone seriously when their opening line is; “I just want you to know I was addicted to Meth for 3 years, it’s been 5 weeks clean and sober”. Don’t brag about that to strangers until it’s been a year, you just sound silly, no one’s going to give you kudos, and you’re still an addict. You cant brag until its an accomplishment that will last.

So with no prospects and the night over I turned to the tried and true; The Boy.

I call him at like 4 AM; he’s getting home too. We chat for a little while, how was your night how was mine, what’s been going on, silly stories about friends, etc. Its mildly flirtatious but I don’t want mildly right now. I want him to tell me naughty things and get me off; I want to come. Which I tell him; “do you want to have phone sex, I’m kind of in the mood for an orgasm”. He asks me if I'm touching myself; “for about the last 30 min of our conversation” he moans a little into the phone (actually I don’t remember if that was true, it was either a moan, or a sound like, Jesus Christ she’s insatiable). I ask him if he was touching himself, he says yes. (I am not convinced though that he was either or if he said yes, I was hoping he was and since this is my side of the story, I am going to move it along in that direction).
So, during and afterwards I was a little weirded out. Things got pretty bizarre and kinky in directions we haven’t discussed and fetishes that I am not totally sold on. I don’t know, it got me off, oh believe me it did (4 times), but it was a little much for me. I find it hard to be dominant when I don’t feel totally secure or able to go down these paths.
I mean you can’t expect someone to get your kink unless you explicitly tell them, right? And some of it he got right on the head, the begging was great, the telling me he’ll do whatever I want, that I own him, control him, rule him, possess him (that was my favorite, especially with that voice of his).

That’s when I think he started getting into it, and it went someplace I was not ready for. He also describes things and uses adjectives and imagery that I just do not know where they come from, like using words like cavernous, I am not doing it justice, but it slightly reminded me of 40 yr old virgin when he calls boobs sandbags, something like that. But it’s so cute in other instances that I let it go. I wish I remembered more specifics. But he did say he'd like to play power games over his orgasm. He kept on going back to pretty standard BDSM genres. The clothespin stuff and the ass fucking, ok I am there. When he called it my big black cock, I put the breaks on. We’re bringing race into this? I did like when he said mine was bigger than his, not because of the subversion of the racial power dynamic. I was uncomfortable with the meaning of that, to dominate this white boy with my large black cock. I did like the compliment that mine was bigger and stronger and better than his. If I were to have a cock, it would be fantastic. I would get to pick it out and it would become an extension of myself. I do not possess the carriage or experience of being a black man and I cannot use that to humiliate you. What I can do is get the best cock money can buy and humiliate you with that!
It’s like my wig collection; I don’t have long thick hair, so I bought some. I don’t know if it looks real all the time but either way I get the desired response. I get attention, either as someone who has fantastic California beach hair, or a cute girl with cancer. It’s the same thing if I was to have a strap on, it’s not real, but either way I’m going to get a rise. It’s not the real thing, but an imitation, but hell, that imitation provokes one hell of a response anyway; I live the hyperreal.
And then, it got truly weird. He wanted me to dress him up like a girl, call him by a feminized version of his name and call him a sick dirty dyke, my sick dirty lesbian. Now ok, as I write this, I think I can get behind his fantasy if I just work through it.
He (and this is all speculation) is a standard heterosexual man with a penchant for all that shitty faux lesbian porn that’s created just for men. Enjoying licking pussy = a behavior that men do out of obligation and lesbians do out of desire. Since he has desire, therefore he’s a dyke. I can find this twisted cultural norm endearing. I can call him all those dirty words because they evoke lesbian porn for him and call him out for enjoying going down on girls (side note: all men should enjoy it, its fun!). You want me to call you my dirty little dyke, it’s not my way but I can get behind that and still be turned on.
Ok, maybe I cant, I am going back and forth on this one, and I am not 100% sure. I can see why, but I don’t think I can really ever use the associated props. I don’t want you to look pretty. I want you to look like a dude. I like seeing you in men’s underwear, it really turns me on. I don’t want to put lipstick on you unless I am using it to write on your body. I want your lips to look like the soft full, yet masculine lips they are.
I can find other ways of humiliating you that do not revolve around dominating you racially or through gender. I will use some of those cues, but having me fuck you with a big black cock? No, I’m fucking you with my cock and that should be enough. I am not emasculating your whiteness with my subversive blackness. I am not humiliating you with gender because the lowest thing on the totem pole is a lesbian who loves doing lesbian things. I will humiliate you with your desires, with our acts, with your NEED to be called a lesbian, or dominated by a black penis, but you are not a woman nor am I a black man. Do you get the subtle difference (I don’t even know if I do)?
I’ll call you out on being you, I’ll call you out on being the submissive piece of shit that you are, letting me do this, liking this (that I like too, that’s why we’re both here). But I do not feel comfortable fulfilling stereotypical power imbalances that I have lived.
But of course now I worry. I worry that he feels exposed, I worry that he feels embarrassed by his desire. There is nothing I want less than to make him feel wrong. Yet again another contradiction. I want to and he wants to be humiliated, but I also don’t want it to spill over after the fact. The second I hung up the phone I thought to myself, that’s it, yes, I’m weired out by the direction it went, but I’m willing to talk about it. He’s not. I won’t hear from him for months now. And I don’t know if he came, was it all for me? This is too complicated.
I don’t think I am ready for sex on this level, its too problematic. Its like I just have my learners permit and I’m expected to drive an 18-wheeler.