My sexual personality


I actually learned two new words when I read this week’s prompt: ambivert being someone who has a balance of extrovert and introvert features in their personality, and omnivert being someone who displays classic traits of both introverts and extroverts, in specific situations. When it comes to sex, I think I may be something of a mix of both of these.

I am a fairly outgoing person in all aspects of my life, and when it comes to most things sex related, I’m no different. That “most” in there is key however. I am completely open about my sexuality, I am a bisexual woman who is attracted to and enjoys sex with men and women. I am open about the kinds of sex I enjoy; specifically the rough, hard kind that leaves me aching all over and feeling thoroughly used. I make no bones about my inability to be monogamous, and the fact that I still, on occasion, will pick up random men or women for casual, and often anonymous sexual encounters. I don’t hide the fact that I have deep masochistic tendencies that Master C helps me explore and fulfil. It should come as no surprise that I love sucking cock, I enjoy having my arse fucked every bit as much as my cunt, I will never have enough of having my cunt licked, or enjoying the taste of another woman’s cunt. I get off on being humiliated, and I have a strong predilection for cum, be it in me or all over me.

I think it’s fair to say that if someone was creating an illustrated dictionary of sex, when you got the the entry on “submissive slut”, there’d be a good chance you’d find a picture of me.

Except, of course, you almost certainly wouldn’t.

Which is where one of the more contradictory aspects of being “me” comes in.

I am absolutely comfortable in my skin. I accept my lumpy and wobbly bits and the fact that as I approach my 50s, they are lumpier and wobblier and decidedly less pert than the were in my 20s. My body has had enough compliments from enough partners down the years for me to not have hang-ups about it (although, I suspect, the basis for a large part of those compliments was what I was prepared to do with and allow to be done to my body, but I digress).

I don’t know how many people have seen me naked, in person, but it’s a lot; be they my sexual partners, people who have seen me in swinger’s clubs or dungeons, or people who have chanced upon me when I’ve been indulging in sex outdoors. There is also the fact that I am no stranger to nudist beaches.

It’s not that I deliberately go out of the way to show off my body, or be naked in public (although there are occasions when I do this under instruction from Master C), it’s simply that I am comfortable being naked, and if people see me in that state, it’s fine.

One thing you won’t see very often, however, is photos of me naked. As a general rule, I don’t post those, and the few that I have posted are always carefully edited to make sure I’m not identifiable. Why is this? I’m not entirely sure. In one sense, there is no difference between someone seeing me naked, or engaging in sex, than there is someone seeing a photo of me naked or engaging in sex, and yet, there very much is.

I can kind of control what happens when people see me in the flesh. In the context of clubs/dungeons/etc., photography/filming is not permitted (except where all the parties have agreed in advance), and as a rule, what happens in the club/dungeon, stays there. OK, if I’m frolicking in some secluded outdoor spot, and someone snaps a photo of me, there’s not much I can do, but fucking al fresco always has some element of risk; that’s part of why I do it.

Posting photos, however, means kind of giving up control. Once that photo is out there, I no longer have any real say in how the viewer of that photo chooses to use it, or how they themselves choose to share it. That bothers me and so that is why although I participate in any number of blogging memes where I openly discuss sex, I don’t participate in memes like Monochromatic, Sinful Sunday, Love Your Selfie or any other photo based meme. Despite being comfortable letting people see me naked and/or having sex in person, somehow letting people (with a few notable exceptions) see photos or videos of me naked and/or having sex, is something that makes me uneasy, and so it is something I will very rarely do. I am willing to share my body, and frequently do, but not images of my body.

So yes, I am definitely quite extroverted in most aspects of my life in general and my sex live/sexuality in particular, but there are times and instances where I am definitely much more reticent (I don’t think I could really call myself introverted in any way that people would believe). As I said, I’m definitely something of a contradicyion.

The most accurate term to describe me, although not especially scientific, is a contrary bisim.

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A time of rebirth


Two weeks ago, we still had several inches of snow on the ground; within a day or two, it would mostly all be gone. Today, I look out my window and the snow has gone, the skies are blue with only the occasional cloud, the sun is shining, birds are chirping and spring flowers are beginning to burst into life

It’s not especially warm; it is, after all, the west of Scotland, in February but there is almost no wind and, compared to the minus figures we were enduring just over a week ago, 10oc feels positively balmy.

So, at lunchtime, I stripped off and walked round the garden, feeling the grass under my feet, finding the sunniest spot and just stood there for several minutes for no other reason other than the fact I could.

What little wind there was made the short hairs on my arms stand on end, but it felt good; good to feel the first feeble warmth of the pre-spring sunshine on my skin, good to just be part of that rebirth, that coming back to life after long, cold months of darkness and cold.

A few minutes was all I could manage, but it was all that I needed; it was all that I required to feel as if I had started to emerge from my winter cocoon to face the promise of longer, warmer days.

I can’t lie, I was glad to get back indoors and put my clothes back on; sipping from a hot mug of coffee, but my spirit was still out there, naked and free, acknowledging my part in the world.

We all need those moments; those times where we just shift phase and exist; a few quite seconds to be free of our burdens and cares. Returning to my desk, nothing has really changed; my workload is still what it was before I stopped for lunch, I am still the same person I was, and the world is largely no different from how it was half an hour ago. And yet those few moments of peace, those few moments of standing naked at the end of the garden, listening to the blackbirds and feeling a gentle warmth on my face have filled me with a promise of what will be.

In spring, we brush off the mantle of winter and are reborn.

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Body image and nudity


I like my bum. Sadly for it, in terms of the attention it gets from oglers, it is most definitely overshadowed (not literally, obviously; that would be freaky) by my boobs. Now, as it happens, I like my boobs too most of the time, but I happen to think my bum is my best feature and it gets somewhat neglected in the getting checked out stakes.

For everyone, especially us women, body image is a very complicated and very personal thing. I am quite fortunate that I happen to like (most of) my body. My face is nothing special (yet another reason for not showing it) and I hate my feet. As for the rest, it’s pretty much how I like it. OK, so it’s size and shape changes from time to time, but it’s been pretty much constant since I was about 16/17.

That’s not to say I’ve always been as self-confident. My boobs in particular caused me a lot of grief in my early teens.

As I’ve mentioned to the point of nausea, I went to an all girls school. I was also quite an early developer on the boob front. As such I got quite a lot of teasing from my still flat-chested classmates. You might have thought that this would have lessened as their own boobs sprouted but alas no. Mine, having had a head start, stayed pretty much out in front on account of their size. Being a 32D at the age of 13 is not the blessing you may think it is, although my boobs did get me noticed by boys, which of course just added to the torment I received from my peer group. I was still in my first year of secondary school when someone first came up with the nickname, Morag McNipples (it being a supposedly clever play on my actual surname), and it was to follow me throughout my school days.

Of course, the only people who ever saw me naked in those days were the same sneering classmates in the showers and changing rooms after PE at school, and , of course, “The Girl”.

The change in my attitude to myself came, quite naturally I guess, as I began to become sexually active. The first time I got naked in front of a guy was nervewracking, but in actual fact, I guess I needn’t have worried; I don’t think he actually took his eyes off my boobs the whole time after my bra came off. We didn’t have sex that time, but we did spend ages lying naked together, exploring each other with out fingers and, I think, during the course of the afternoon, he had complimented every inch of me (but my boobs were definitely his favourite bits).

Allowing men, and women to see me naked taught me to look at my body in a different light. I was (and still am) to a certain extent slightly self-concious about my ladybumps, but I have come to love them almost as much as any other part of me.

Going abroad on holiday in my early teens was always a bit traumatic. My mum has (and possibly still does for all I know) never had any issue with sunbathing topless. She even refused to cover up when her offspring were going through that awkward stage. I was 15 when I first decided to brave discarding my bikini top. I was quite envious of all these other women (my mum excepted) being brave enough to bare their boobs and enjoy the freedom of the sun and the sea on their skin.

My sister (who is almost two years older than me) and I decided to leave the family group and set off further along the beach. Once we were certain we were far enough to be out of view, and with a lot of nervous giggling and a few false starts, we eventually plucked up the courage to discard our tops. I think I was slightly disappointed at the lack of any reaction when there I was, my boobs out in public for the first time, and no one paid a damned bit of notice. Of course, what were two (or four if you count my sister’s) more boobs on a beach where you could see countless pairs of them in any direction?

Going swimming topless for the first time was exhilarating. The contrast of the heat of the sun and the coolness of the water made my nipples stand out, and feeling the waves splash against them sent almost orgasmic like shivers through them.

Except for those parts of the world where it’s required, I’ve never worn a bikini top abroad since, although it took a couple of further holidays before I was comfortable getting them out with my mum and dad present.

Nude sunbathing was something I tried for the first time when I went on an all girls holiday just after finishing school. If you’ve ever been to the Greek Island of Corfu, you may know that on the northwest corner there is a lovely beach just to the north of the village of Arillas. The beach, set against the backdrop of imposing clay cliffs has some of the clearest blue waters off any of the Greek islands. It is also a beach where not only is nudism tolerated, it is, as we discovered, almost expected. Being already completely comfortable with being topless, and seeing all the carefree nudity around me, it didn’t require much persuasion for me to go the whole way and discard the bottoms too.

The thing I discovered very quickly is that nudity, when it is all around, is not sexy nor is it arousing, it is simply nudity. I saw bodies of all shapes, colours, ages and sizes and no one seemed to be either attracted or repulsed by it; it was simply perfectly acceptable. It was also, I discovered, a hell of a lot more comfortable than having soggy, hot, uncomfortable bikini bottoms clinging to you after you’d been for a swim too.

For me, I think, despite never really having any serious body images, that week of just lying in the sun with other naked people lying all around me, just going about and minding their own business, transformed the way I thought about my body and myself. It certainly taught me that I needn’t have hang-ups displaying it and, if a guy was willing to get naked for me, there wasn’t any reason why I should worry about getting naked for him.

I am not a naturist or nudist by any means, but I do admit to enjoying being naked outdoors and, when I go abroad, I do try to ensure that there is the opportunity to sunbathe nude. Not because I want to show off my body, because in all honesty, the only person that will probably even be looking at it is Master C and he sees it every day, but because I enjoy the freedom and the comfort.

As for hang-ups about my boobs, they are mostly relegated to the past, although I still think my bum is cuter.

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