Sebastyne - blog home


A rock fan. A thinker. A psychic empath and a channel, a Tarot reader. The lover of men, kings, and gods. An eternal romance analyser. A polyandrist. A romantic pervert. (A psycho-spiritual life coach.)


The way my (sex) mind works

And why "easy" is the new hot

So I am sexually submissive heterosexual polyandrist androphile. Just rolls off the tongue that one, doesn’t it? Nothing says “whoa that’s hot” more than a string of incomprehensible words that two of them seem to repeat the same thing. Anyway, what that means is that my ultimate relationship goal is to marry several men who love masculinity over femininity and are sexually dominant towards me. What this means before I get there, is that I get turned on by a man’s desire for me, I love the feeling of a man thinking about me, my pussy, and my body and what he’d like to do it. I like a man letting me know this, too, a man who lets me feel it emotionally, or a man telling me the most lurid things.

I get turned on by it, I want him to do those things to me, I want to be the girl to him that never says no if he’s right there with me, the one he can indulge in…

But it means I might not fall in love with him fully or permanently, it simply means I’ll enjoy his desire on me for the time that we have together.

I love perverts. I love shameless men who allow themselves the pleasure of a woman (or a man, if they’re that way inclined, as long as us girls get a go, too,) I love nothing more than to know I made you hard. I love being sexually objectified by a man, preferably several, I love their hands on me, I love them taking liberties. I love them pushing my boundaries and demanding my pussy for their use.

I wish my kind of sexuality would be better understood. I wish men knew that there are women who’d love the feeling of a strangers hand sliding in between her legs without a warning, slowly, knowing I won’t stop him, or turn to see who is insulting me in this way. And when I say insulting, I mean complimenting me in this way. I wish I could wear a short skirt at a club, knowing that if I lean over to a bar, I can count on not being ignored, but that a man will put his hand on my ass and know that if he wants to slide his fingers inside me as I stand there, I would feel honored.

Clearly, that would need to be a very special club. One day, I’ll own one. There is always a time and a place for everyone, that is why we have an etiquette. That is why there is such a thing as “a business skirt” and “club wear”. One says “not now, I am working” while the other says “now, please”. I wish there weren’t stupid women telling men that a short skirt is not a sexual invitation because to me it is. Why else would it be fun to wear one? Donald Trump certainly knows there are women like this. The women surrounding him… Do they realize this?

I wish men knew that their attention is a compliment to me. I wish they knew that attention from women don’t mean near as much to me as attention from them does. At the same bar, if a girl put her hands on me, I’d let her, while kissing a man, all my attention on men, not her, because, she, to me, is simply a vibrator, you, you are my desire. If you ever see me with a girl, you know I will be thinking of a man. (I am trying to teach myself not to hate the idea of a touch of a woman, which makes me a bit tense and seem difficult to approach. I need to not be offended by sexual attention from a woman, even though I won’t be turned on by her, at least not without her trying to turn me on with a thought of a man, not herself… Just saying. One must prepare for everything if one is a pervert.)

I wish men knew that I will never press charges for sexual offenses. If you go overboard, I’ll let you know, and even if you didn’t listen, I’ll live with it. I wish I knew what it was like to be taken by force by someone who I really don’t want… It would be interesting, but I think also impossible, because I get turned on by sexual attention from men, so his hot breath on me would already be enough to turn me on – and I do think rapists know there are women like this but we are forbidden from enjoying this, because not ALL women are like this so we all need to pretend like this would offend us. I know I am not the only one, but how would you know when it is and when it is not? There’s no such clause as “oops I raped you by accident” in the law…

How good would it feel, if a man, on a date, would be listening to me keenly, I would know he is still listening, but he would, without any shame, open my shirt – I rarely wear a bra – prepare a view for himself as I would keep on talking, and he’d keep on listening. I, vulnerable, baring my soul along with my body, nipples hardening at as he would be looking at my breasts, not into my eyes. He’d answer my words but his attention on my body would not shift. I would be objectified and listened to simultaneously. My brain, my sex. He’d do this when I’m sharing something truly personal. He’d command me to continue while he would be fucking me.

Let go of these men because I want them. We want them. And I know you hate them. Let us have them. Let them have us. Let us love them, let them humiliate us because we love the feeling like a compliment to our perversions.

The idea of not needing to be offended for the entire female gender if a man leers at you. To have a permission to be weak and soft to a man.

To be completely used by men by the time I die.

To be fucked to death.

Oh, how do I want to be fucked to death.

I mean this literally, death by fucking, not killed while being fucked but being fucked to death. Until the last ounce of strength is drained out of my body.

To die covered in cum. *Laughs*

Perverts… You sweet perverts, where are thee?


How do you know I love you?

I will ask you to come closer. I will hold your hand while you’re not fucking me. I will ask you to stay.

I will ask you to marry me and my future husbands.

Or we say yes when you ask me and my husbands to marry you.



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I said

I was the first, and for 2 days the only one at my school to wear neon colored winter boots. A dubious honor to hold.


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