I know I don’t do Kink of the Week “wrong” because I talk about SSRIs or self-harm instead of writing about the ways the kink in question turns me on. It’s not any more “wrong” than when it inspires me to publish filthy-yet-fictional erotica. However, it still surprises me when it leads me in distinctly unerotic directions. Like today: I could talk forever about how hot men in panties are, but somehow this blog post centred around my delight in heteroflexible men.
Fuck, I love men in panties.
This means that it shouldn’t be at all hard to write a few hundred words about this particular kink, right? I could write about the man who took a photo of his lace-clad dick in the toilets of the pub we were eating in and sent it to me, rendering me too turned on to form coherent words. I could write about how my Scottish boy bought us matching crotchless knickers and about all the delicious things I did to his cock while he was wearing them. It would be even easier to scribble down some smut about how men wearing knickers gets my knickers in a twist.
However, I’m apparently a masochist (who knew?) so I had to push myself. As a result, even with extensive editing, this blog post has more than one tangent, because I not only have to explain what I mean when I speak of ‘my delight in heteroflexible men’ but justify why I can submit this for the current Kink of the Week topic. (Still with me? Excellent.)
You see, I have a hypothesis. A slightly ridiculous one. It’s one that I haven’t had much opportunity to explore, but would like to. Or not explore so much as continuing to gather data on the cute humans I’m into. I absolutely could be wrong, but I being that I can justify the theory behind my hypothesis, and it seems to amuse the pretty boys to whom I tell it while flirting with them, I feel confident to present it here too.
My ridiculous hypothesis is that I am more inclined to be more attracted to men who are not totally straight.
I didn’t put it like that the first time I said it, because I was a pretentious maths nerd flirting with a pretentious physics nerd. To him, I said that I might be into guys whose number on the Kinsey scale* was greater than zero. As my first tangent, I should say that the Kinsey scale does not, in many ways, reflect the true flexibility of sexuality – not least because it totally misses out asexuality – however it worked for my purpose to see if this particular pretty boy would be freaked out by a mention of non-heterosexual men. He wasn’t.
Thinking about the men I have fucked, so far my hypothesis holds fairly well – though of course it is too small a sample size to draw a proper conclusion. It’s not that I found the flexibility itself in these men hot, but it’s certainly there. There’s the one who would love to take part in a forced-bi scene. There’s the one who I really need to take out for drinks soon so I can ask about his recent adventures in being flexible about who he kisses. There’s the one… no, wait. I’m getting distracted. I’m meant to be talking about men in knickers.
Fuck, I love men in knickers.
And related to this, I like men who don’t feel the need to force their masculinity down my throat. I like men who will call me beautiful when I turn up to a date wearing a suit. I like men who will let me see them cry and let me hold them. I like men who own butt plugs, who admit they think about sex with other guys, and men who wear knickers.
It’s not about my kink for fucking with gender expectations – or at least not solely. It’s not that any of the above things are necessary for me to find men attractive, but they help make me more willing to act on that attraction. Why? Because in general, I feel safer around men who will themselves subvert gender roles a little, or at least support me while I do. A guy who has experienced anal play will understand why penetration scares me so much. A guy who isn’t straight himself will feel less threatened by my queerness. A guy who is as eager to suck off my strap-on as I am his dick is just really, really hot.
Straight cis men, with their money and power and privilege terrify me; a tiny bit of flexibility there makes me feel safer, in the same way that switchy men – who’ll spank me in one scene and beg me to ruin their orgasms in another – do. It’s a lessening (or at least acknowledgement) of the power imbalance that I’m aware of every time I leave my flat. And talking about it in terms of knickers makes sense, in my mind, because it is a very visual way of showing that flexibility.
The reason I find men in knickers so hot isn’t just because of the aspect of feminisation that I sometimes like to play with when I’m being dominant with guys. Another tangent: why has no man ever let me put lipstick on him so I can mess it up while fucking his throat with my strap on? I want to smear his own saliva and make-up across his cheeks with the head of my cock before I go back to making him choke on it… Ahem.
No, it’s not just because of that – it’s because of how hot the idea of someone doing something just-because-I said-so is. I’m still very much trying to understand my own dominance (my cunt is far more helpful when it comes to me being submissive) but I like the many things you can do to a man wearing knickers. It can be a tease, a dare, a humiliating game. It can make him feel a little uncertain in himself or more aware of his own body and of your control over it. It can draw even more attention to how quickly his cock hardens when you whisper filthy things to him.
Heteroflexible men in knickers are really fucking hot, and I plan to explore my hypothesis further and gather more data. But I’m not sure I’ll drawn a conclusion from men in panties, apart from the fact that they make me want to go and jerk off.
*Edit: A friend has pointed out to me that there was actually a categorisation of X in the Kinsey reports, which stood for “no socio-sexual contacts or reactions” – i.e. asexuality, though it doesn’t allow for a spectrum of asexuality.
Image sourced through Pixabay, because I wasn’t brave enough to ask a friend if I could use a photo he sent me a long time ago of him wearing my knickers.