Work it Out: Sex, Confidence, and Self Image

I was going to write this as some kind of smart-ass, oblique, referential kind of post. Fuck that.

In the last year I've lost about 15 lbs. I didn't need to lose the 15 lbs. I was at a healthy weight, but I definitely wasn't feeling hot. I'm not unhappy it's happened. However, I am surprised. Because I have done absolutely nothing special to drop the pounds, apart from eating a generally healthy diet and not eating candy bars at 3 p.m. That was not meant as a backdoor brag.

You see, in March or April I started fucking after years of not fucking and a couple years of not exercising at all. I went from fucking 0 times per week to fucking 4-5 times per week. So I guess you could call sex my workout program. Fortunately I have a very willing workout partner who keeps me motivated.

The first time D and I fucked after years of no fucking was physically very taxing for me. I straddled his cock, sitting on the couch. My ass and thighs were engaged for the whole energetic fuck, and I even got a stitch in my side. I was so incredibly out of shape. For days afterward I was sore. Every time I sat down or got up I wanted to groan in agony.

Almost a year later and the post-coital feeling of a good hard workout is incredibly welcome. It reminds me of what our bodies did to get to that place, and each twinge ignites sordid memories. While sex is no longer my only exercise, I expend more minutes of acrobatic energy during sex than during any other physical activity. I don't think you can consider a standard 15-30 minute romp exercise, but what D and I get up to at times leaves us with aching abs, throbbing glutes, and tender triceps. It qualifies.

The result of 10 months of good hard fucking is a smaller waist and ass, slimmer legs, tighter abs, and most importantly: more endurance. It's also given me back a level of confidence in and out of bed that I hadn't had for a while. I feel proud of my body--not just how it looks, but what it can do. That feeling of total body confidence, reinforced by the compliments and gropings of a partner who thinks you're the sexiest woman in the world.

I spend more time naked now than I ever have. I might have mentioned the scandalous bikinis I took on vacation. I felt so hot in them, especially when D would sneak a tit out, or slip his cock into a pulled aside crotch. The day I got my strap-on harness I tried it on in front of the mirror. It's tiny and leather and strappy and hot. And I felt unbelievably sexy. I wish I had the balls to post a photo. Dumb Domme recently had a post about exactly the same harness. With photos. And admitted she had to go wank after taking them. That's pretty much what happened here.

And finally, recently I tried on a wardrobe full of smaller clothes. I admit to a front door brag of the worst kind. I saved a ton of great clothes that I hadn't been able to wear because of the excess pounds and every single piece fit--sexy cocktail dresses, business suits, low rise jeans, teeny beach capris.

As a woman who has had her share of insecurities about her body over the years, this new phase I'm in feels amazing. I just hope that I can keep what I now feel I've earned.