Blue Lobsters…

They say that being into kink or alternative sexualities is the sign of a higher IQ, but sometimes I wish I could be like others. I know people who really don’t think much about sex other than ‘the usual’… (missionary, some cowgirl for spice and of course, doggy. Really, if you would see it on skinimax, that is as far as they would go.)

I think if some of my friends read this blog, they would have trouble meeting my eyes after. Or else I would continue in my somewhat established roll as a sideshow before they go home and watch Two and a Half Men… or whatever people watch these days.

I don’t really know what it is abou me that makes me ponder things that are more ‘deviant.’ I realise I am not the only one- thank you, intertubez porn for my sanity… but sometimes I think it would be nice to be one of the flock. The fact that I can say ‘Google Petra the Hucow’ generally shows I have done some skinny dipping in the more perverted pools of the internet.

When talking to a friend recently, one who has a vague idea of my submissive nature, and she asked me why I wanted to be some sort of sexual drudge. i really couldn’t explain well that I didn’t think it was drudgery. Being in a cage (figuratively) is just something I have yearned for. She kept reminding me that cages are not something I would want in my real life. I am not the girl who stayed in her hometown and did what was expected of her… I should be feckless and free and not want what I want. But then she fucks random people she picks up at public events and thinks that love is for losers. I don’t truly understand her, and she can’t truly understand me.

But sometimes I think I would like to be normal. Not someone who is writing a blog about her sexuality for all in sundry to read (though hardly so avant guard these days) and who dreams about being sold as chattel. I have fought with being a different sort of thinker my whole life, and it gets rather tiresome. The blissful ignorance of the average Jane who marries Jo, pops out 1.5 kids, lives in the burbs and drives a minivan. Sometimes I think… wouldn’t it be nice?

I would like to think that when confronted with what I desire, I do have the cajones to go for it… not like so many of the people I have encountered. The fakes. I had a date with yet another dommy fellow last year… after a while, he said… ‘you are it. You are the real thing. I didnt think anyone  was as real as you… but… and while I find it enticing… I already have a wife and a mistress and I just wouldnt have enough time to give you what you need.’

OF COURSE I AM REAL…!!! (which I had told him, as I was really miffed he had wasted my time….) but then I remember just how few truly are. They are just dressing up and playing games and getting off on their fantasies. Like all those little Jane’s  reading that bloody Shades of Gray book and masturbating to it while the kids are asleep and Joe is off for his thursday night golf bro-fest with his buddies.

I am like a blue lobster in a sea of green ones…The problem with being an honest-to-God blue lobster is that it is so damn hard to find another one to live a happy blue lobster life with. Blue lobsters occur 1:1 million. Jeez… I hope I am a blue lobster… if I am a yellow lobster, that would make me 1:30 million. I am really screwed if I am an Albino Lobster… then I am 1:100 million… (but those ones probably abuse sea anemones and  baby lobsters!!!)

Who wouldn’t want an exotic blue lobster to love and have for their very own?

Look! It’s ME!

One thought on “Blue Lobsters…

  1. I missed this one in my perusal of your blog… not sure why.

    I get the uncertainty. I have spent time with women who want to be little girls with a strong man, and women who are high flying executives that need to submit because they spend all their daytime hours bossing and decision making and they just need the release. I have spent time with women who (reluctantly) played at being dommes.

    For most, it really is like wearing a piece of lingerie. It is something they may choose to do, but certainly not something they do all the time, or ‘for’ everyone. Much more rare is she who does it ‘with’ not ‘for’ a partner. Even rarer (yellow lobster?) is she who does not wake up the next morning and start treating the man who fulfilled her fantasy like a servant or a fan boy. But they cannot help it, because for them, like the soccer moms gushing over 50 shades, it was only a fantasy, a game, a flavor.

    It makes it hard to be oneself.

    Stay warm.

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