Years ago I found myself in a flirtatious back n forth with someone who was obviously trying to impress me with talk of female worship. He boasted of how he treats his lovers like queens and serves them graciously. Now I do enjoy pampering, I mean like any one else, but does it get me hot? No. Maybe I’m just a brat, because I rarely find it titillating at all… I just think I deserve it.

Well, being the brat I am I had to throw him off his well rehearsed spiel. I told him, I’m not a queen in the bedroom, I’m actually a frog. Eager to rectify this sudden display of self debasement, he assured me I wasn’t a frog at all.

Why would I say such an absurd thing… I guess I’ll let you go way back with me. It all started at that stage in one’s life before any sexual awareness is present, but things are getting coded. Just a happenstance discovery in nature as I waded through the low tides of San Luis Obispo. It was a giant sea slug. About 10 inches long and 12 inches in diameter… I real chonker. But as I lifted it up out of the water the integrity of its shape flattened and stretched. Almost paper thin in my palm and oozing off to the sides. I quickly put it back in its rightful place, scared I had injured the poor thing and I never forgot about it. But not in a way that one would expect in later years. My mind often returned to this slug when pleasing myself. I’d imagine finding some nebulous slimy thing and just rubbing against it, pushing it into my flesh.

Just like a tadpole my desires sprouted legs… but kind of latent. Unfortunately I found myself distracted by performance and the ever present gaze a femme gets in this world. I fed myself off of other people’s pleasure and not my own. I think that’s something a lot of young girls do.

But one night, an especially humid one in Memphis, I found myself drenched in sweat next to another slippery body. We were on tour which meant we had to make do with whatever space that was generously offered to us. In this case it was a reappropriated closet turned bedroom. Pitch black with the lights off. So when our bodies slid together in this deprivation chamber my mind went back to the slug. Mounted on top of this warm beating blob I gyrated and transcended my bodily form. Fluids oozing out of so many holes, slipping around, feeling a hyper awareness of all my muscles. When we were done I was like… that was frog sex.

I of course didn’t tell this guy any of that… no. Instead simply said, I liked to use my unusually drooly mouth and muscular legs to forget I’m a woman for a moment and just feel pleasure. He of course was speechless.