Bend Over, Gender

My guy and I are both bisexual. We were up late last night, talking in a sultry, desultory way, when our conversation took an unexpected turn. I confessed that I felt somewhat insecure about the size of my Nexus and Feeldoe. It’s ridiculous, feeling that my dildo might be inadequate. Don’t I always say it’s not the size that matters, it’s the ingenuity? Sex isn’t just about penetration. I’m creative and observant and lusty, that’s more important than length and girth. And if it didn’t get him off, he’d say so. Worrying about such a thing is lame. But.

“Mine isn’t as big as yours, and it’s probably not the biggest you’ve had, either,” I told him, feeling foolish.

“Whatever you have is good enough for me,” he assured me. “I’m pretty tight down there.”

I could hear him laughing silently. I was laughing, too, breathless as I was from this surreal exchange. I’d never have thought that I’d one day utter those words to anyone, particularly because I find that kind of penis-as-ego-stroking distasteful. He wouldn’t be insecure about the size of his cock, even if he was hung like a hamster; I would never say “I’m tight” to assure anyone that they’re “big enough”. We’re both secure in our sexuality, we know who we are, what we want, and what we’re worth. It’s one of the reasons he’s so sexy.

Between he and I, though, this reversal was strangely electrifying. Is it because our genders are fluid enough that we can slip so easily into stereotypical roles? Or do we just get a sexual kick out of satire? Could it really be that the thought of him as a woman and myself as a man is yet another one of our kinks? His incredible eroticism has never failed to amaze and arouse me. Maybe I’m into anything that has to do with him getting naked.

“I’ll be your girlfriend,” he purred in his deep, masculine voice.

My insides fluttered, swirled, and clamped down around my core.

Yep, it’s the role reversal.


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