I have no idea why I picked last night to tell him. I should have done it when we were out somewhere, because when we’re at my place, we’re typically in bed (or bent over the couch, or on the floor in the living room, or outside on the patio…).
I was nervous, and so I had a drink, and then another, and then another. And I was half-drunk and ended up telling him when he was buck naked, splayed across the bed, just out of bondage. I just fucking blurted it out. That probably wasn’t the best time or place to tell him, but I did it. I told him.
I admitted to him that I have been faking orgasms since the beginning.
First, he said he was afraid I would tell him that I was seeing someone else. And then, in response to my admission, he had two questions.
1) He asked why I had lied. I did my best to explain it to him (as best I could in my blurry state), and I’ll try to explain here if I can ever figure out how to write it all out coherently.
2) He asked if I enjoyed oral sex at all. I was truthful in my response, yes.
That was the end of the conversation.
We didn’t talk about it any more. We played, we fucked, we chatted, and enjoyed the rest of our time together.
Of course I think too much, and so, I could read his response to my admission one of two ways.
I could read this as him not giving a fuck, wanting me to get on with things so he could do what he wanted to do, wanting me to be the subject of his facesitting fetish, wanting to avoid spending any more time talking about it and wanting to get back to physical play.
Or, I could read this as him being sensitive to me. It warms my heart to think J may have read me well enough to see that admitting my dishonesty was difficult and embarrassing. Against my predisposition to think the worst of myself and of others, I want to believe J was being kind and sweet and submissive. I choose to believe that he’s learned me well enough to spare me the embarrassment that he understands pains me me more than it should.
I have no reason to believe otherwise, so I’m going to trust that J is trusting me (despite my dishonesty), my feelings, and my needs. This was big for me, and I hope he knows that. I’ve lied to all of my past lovers, but I came clean to J. I want to be honest and I want to do what it takes to make the best of this thing for however long it lasts.
More important than all of that, I want to come in his mouth and make him swallow every last drop and hear him say “thank you, Ma’am.”
I don’t know how to make that happen, but that’s what I want.
1. I drank WAY too much. At some point, I asked J if he liked sweet potatoes as if it were an earnest, meaningful question that might determine whether or not we were ultimately compatible together. Poor J. It can’t be easy dealing with an inexperienced, overly emotional, drunken Domme who has incredibly strong feelings about produce.
2. I was surprised. I really thought he knew what I was going to say. His response, that he thought I might tell him I was seeing someone else, actually made me kinda happy. It’s not that I want him running around paranoid or suspect, but it’s nice to know he sees me as someone who could find someone else. I’m cute, dammit. Plus, while I’m not into overly masculine, over-compensating machismo, I do I find a man’s measured jealousy incredibly attractive. I like being wanted… so?