“God you are such a nasty girl,” he growled in my ear, “thank the gods!”

Each time he makes this statement, I silently thank the gods myself that I have a Daddy who nurtures that – takes advantage of that – enjoys that part of me.  I’m not some chaste girl from Iowa. I’m not the good child in my family – or the straight A student from high school. I’m not the sibling that wasn’t out raising hell. I’m not all of those things people always assumed made me unsexy and a prude.

No.  He sees who I am at my core; and instead of being shocked by it, he celebrates it.  He watches my body language, he hears the words behind my words, and he reacts to all of the ways my body reacts – the smells, the touch, the sighs – and he savors it.

Being a dirty, nasty girl in my fantasies while under the covers in my childhood bedroom with my fingers slowly bringing myself to an orgasm, I thought I was weird.  I was caught in the labels others had put onto me – thinking that maybe what I was feeling between my legs when these thoughts floated through my teenage mind were wrong – were not how I was supposed to be given how people perceived me.  How could I be seen as chaste when my what was in my head was far from it? I wondered if the fantasy would ever meet the reality of who I am.

It did. I often joke that if you put two horny teenagers together in college with a dorm room and a box of condoms that they won’t leave anything unexplored.  But it wasn’t a joke.  I met someone who was willing to explore – eager to explore – and explore we did.  But there was a dynamic that we walked but could never cross into.

Entering kink allowed me to go down that path.

But connecting with a person who sees me…..well? It was down the rabbit hole.

Just call me a happy Alice.

And insert whatever rabbit hole comment you’d like as it probably isn’t far off.

Thank the gods for that!