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Hot Sex I Didn’t Have: Pegging the Palace Guard

Pegging the palace guard: sadly another for the category of hot sex I didn’t have. Hot sex I desperately wanted, but still didn’t have. My tales on this today fall into the category of things that sounded like a brilliant and hot idea at the time, but that my body and gut just could not go along with. 

There are certainly other things in this category that I could go along with. Like fucking in the ever-so-gross locale of an airplane bathroom. Or getting busy with a partner in a darkroom where there were certainly other men listening that I did not want listening. Or getting busy with a MAGA man.

However, there are a couple of clear standouts in this genre of things that I think about frequently. Where I wonder if I made the right choice. 

Pegging the Palace Guard

Pegging The Palace Guard

Oh so recently I spend three months in London wherein I meet many people, and have many adventures.

And then there’s an adventure I almost have, but don’t. 

I’m sitting in the Scotch Malt Whisky Society tasting room alone, because I enjoy drinking fine Scotch and playing Tinder under the watchful service of hot Italian bartenders, sitting in a plush armchair in a well-ventilated room that is almost empty… during a pandemic.

A palace guard stands out. Pointy hat, not furry hat. My British friend says “even better.”

He is not the first Englishman in uniform I see on Twitter. There are other military men, RAF, and palace guards. But this one is handsome. And he has photos of himself on horseback. 

His profile is witty. Says he polishes things and spends too much time shoveling horse shit.

Later I learn what it means to be a horse guard.

I learn that Mr. Horse Guard is a Tory, from a posh family, and half German, and apparently being continental in some part makes one even more impressive in British social circles. He’s lived a path up until now of thinking that he was serving his country. He, like me, has now realized from going through by rote a list of his daily tasks that he is doing little else but wasting UK taxpayers’ money. His position is solely ceremonial. 

I find this out when trying to lay down longitude and latitude coordinates for a potential meetup. The man cannot figure out what these are. I question him on it, and I find out that he can’t even read a freaking compass. Horse Guard explains that they pass these basic tests in the most rudimentary of ways, as long as the leader of their troupe knows how to do these things, they are fine.

After all, all they do is vaguely take care of horses (basic maintenance), move them around, and ride them around for events and parades looking stern and formal.

Going back to the beginning for a moment…

Horse Guard, well, he’s pretty damn upfront. He wants to be pegged.

I have to remind myself that in Britspeak this means fucked up the ass with a strap-on. Or fucked up the bum, as they say. 

He wants to be dominated and have his asshole brutalized. By me.

“Can I use race? Nationality? Gender?” I ask.

“Yes absolutely. Brutalize me for Colonialism. The Holocaust. The Patriarchy. All of the above. Whatever you like.”

I’m still not over his lack of military prowess, and mention that, you know, say what you want about the US military, but I’ve never met a person in our Armed Forces that can’t read a fucking compass.

Thus follows a spar about nationality.

“I was going to type this but it’s going to take a little while to say. I think historically the American war for Independence was based on tax, to which you now pay proportionately higher than we do, in Great Britain. You then required a civil war to understand the basic concept of emancipation, something that we had triumphed many years before. Would get the feeling that America is a place that talks greatly about a democracy in a two-party system that doesn’t represent all if it’s people. I don’t know. I get the feeling that we have always been freer.”

This spoken in his posh, snooty public school accent (their public schools are the opposite of US public schools… their public schools are private) definitely ticks me off. Then we begin to argue about immigration and he pushes me even further…

“Just taking immigrants isn’t the key point, integrating them into society, settling them, aiding them, and if necessary helping them to return to the place where they’ve come from as asylum seekers. Which we’re quite good at doing, I would like to think…”

At this point I can see it. I can feel it. I can see that I would absolutely love to make this man suffer a bit for his posh, privileged, sheltered, ridiculous, and shattering perspectives.

Horse Guard wants to be pegged and dominated and this stands out in contrast to all the rest of the cookie-cutter Tinder servings.

And of course we then move into discussing Covid.

“Are you a believer in the lack of use of masks?” he asks. “I have a father in the pharmaceutical industry who is currently working on a cure for Covid, actually. And, I know the science of it, and I do believe that masks work. I think they should have been made mandatory a long time ago. I am somewhat ashamed of the government to which I voted in. Boris Johnson has been something of a letdown. But he’s a politician. Aren’t they all.” he sighs. And changes the subject.

“I really like your accent, by the way.” Horse Guard says, with surprising intimacy. “That is very hot.” he adds. “And has a lot of potential for further naughtiness.”

“I like your accent too.” I say. And then we continue to argue about Covid for another 20 minutes.

He does try to distract me back into what’s at hand. Pegging the Palace Guard.

“I’m really curious about what you have done sexually, by the way” he coos. I don’t take the bait. I berate him for his politics and opinions instead. Then taunt him with the fact that I’m likely a better shot than he is. Guns. ‘Merica. This is the only dominance I know well and am good at. He doesn’t care. He admits he isn’t into guns and doesn’t feel less for it.

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve matured with my age. I was very naive when I joined the army. I enjoy gaming, but shooting was never my thing. It’s just it was very cold and unskilled. I think archery and other forms of more traditional warfare were always more interesting. Which is why I’m leaving the army.” he admits.

I stifle a laugh. Horse Guard thinks he’s mature in his early 20’s. He’s just too perfect. 

“It’s difficult to try and understand what stance you have, are you right wing or left wing? And have you pegged before?”

I don’t give him an answer to my politics, but I do tell him about my strap-on resume.

“I have pegged precisely once, about 20 years ago when I was about your age. After which I was like ‘don’t do that again if you want to keep seeing the guy as hot.’ But I have a complicated relationship to gender anyway, so some forms of dominance are easy. Not that one.”

“Interesting. I mean, I don’t mind if you want to see me as something else. That’s kind of hot.” he says.

His open discussion of sexuality is attractive. I’m pulled to him for sure – but I already know that what I really want is for him to fuck me. For him to take me, in some way altogether too vanilla for him. I don’t want to dominate him. Wouldn’t mind a power tussle, but if it clearly came out with me on top I know I’d lose interest. 

I text my Londoner friend about it, asking him if I should go through with pegging the Palace Guard. He tells me that it will reset the 2020 timeline if I can do so inside the Palace.

“I mean, you’re like a special thing. You’re a horse guard. Wait, but you didn’t answer my question, where are you going next? How does it work, anyway, the UK military? I mean obviously I know how the US military works…. It works real fucking well.” I chuckle. “But I don’t know anything about the UK military. I think you try to come and back us up sometimes. Or wait, maybe you need our backup? Is that the way that it works?” I ask, smiling.

“No it’s not, because proportionally we’re not an aggressive nation, and you are. I mean you talk about not being around at the time of colonialism yet we’re living in an age of what is essentially American pseudo-colonialism by culture. And I think what you mean to say is that we are dragged into wars politically by you that we have as a common people, no incentive to want any part of, because, why would I want to be in Afghanistan and Iraq? Which is part of the reason why I’m signing off.”

I notice that he’s playing video games in the background, and he admits to it. We continue arguing about the US vs. UK military and immigration for a bit until he changes the subject again.

“You’ve definitely got something that I want. What kind of dominant stuff have you done with men?

“I told you, I’m not dominant in bed. You know how it works. If you’re dominant in life, you’re not dominant in bed. What happened to you anyway, that you want to be abused and brutalized?” I ask, again, taunting him. Challenging him. 

“Um, I mean, it started when I was fifteen and my first girlfriend was a goth dominatrix, so that sort of set the tone. I’ve got a really good background, upbringing, family, so yeah, I guess that would probably explain it.”

“How long have you been pegging?”

“I think I started pegging when I was like about sixteen? Seventeen? And I was hoping to start, because obviously I’m a victim of my own anatomy as a man, you know, so, I don’t know, I’ve just always enjoyed it. I guess I don’t mind if you don’t see me as a man and you want to, you know, treat me as a woman, I’d be into that, I guess.”

I can tell he wants that more than he wants to be seen as wanting it. Yet I still don’t want anything of the sort, except the burning theoretical desire to complete the narrative “pegging the palace guard” in real life. My gender fluidity might allow that with a long term partner, but as a needed fetish it’s so unattractive. I’m torn by the chemistry I feel, though. And as well the story – buttfucking one of the queen’s regiment? Oh so tempting.

“I’m not into women so much. I mean, like, one in like a million, but I’m just super heterosexual and so the guy that comes walking by right after them will totally eclipse that. Did identify as bisexual when I was younger. I identified as male when I was younger. So, that’s why it’s not like, completely foriegn as just like a sex act, or like the idea is not foreign, but yeah, I mean, I don’t know what I think about pegging the palace guard…” I trail off.

“That’s pretty hot, I get that. You can always be my daddy.”

“We’ll see, we’ll see. I’m not committing. Though you are hot. That is true.”

“Oh, also, on that, would you like to see some videos of me getting pegged?” 

“Nah. Save them. Let’s meet first and figure that out second. That said, really, what’s in it for me? I mean, do you do other things? Like lick pussy?”

“Of course I do.” he says, offended.

“Well you never know.” I defend.

“Oh come on I’m not that selfish. I mean, I don’t know how they do it in America, but… yeah.” I can almost hear him winking.

“Not very well. You probably do know how they do it in America. I mean, where does most of the pornography come from?” I ask.

“Oh that’s very true. Which is why it’s quite hot that you’re American. I hear that you guys are a lot more open to stuff, which is nice. Unfortunately there is an air of conservatism still in the UK with regards to sex.” he pauses “What would you like to do? I am curious.” his voice is magnetic and annoying at once.

“The conservative is complaining about conservatism.” I quip. “Well why the fuck do you think that is, boy? You keep voting that shit in.” 

“Does everything have to be so black and white with you Americans?” he reacts. Just because I’m a conservative doesn’t mean that I agree with the party’s think tank. I am a flexible human being.” he says

And at this we start to talk about what we like in bed. It further and further diverges. My hopes of pegging the palace guard wane even further. He stops seeming charming and sexy, and seems more and more interested in his video game. I realize that an accent and a title makes a great story, but as a human being there’s something off-putting about him.

I also simply do not want to peg anyone, not that I’d rule it out entirely. 

As we continue our joust, somehow the subject of drugs and alcohol comes up, and therein, kittens, lies the rub. 

He says the one line that tips the scales from different and incompatible and hot and something maybe I’d do once, to just plain off the table:

“I’m super anti-drug.”

And with that, there’s only one thing that could make me go through with it, so I throw in the last ditch effort:

“Can you sneak me into the palace? I’ll do anything you want” I coo. This seems like my last hope of pegging the palace guard.

“As much as I would love to sneak you in, for the offer of you doing anything, and I already have something in my mind… I can’t. And no, I have never. We’re only actually on palace grounds when we’re doing investiture in the palace, and then we’re as a group, and there’s training command there, there’s, you know, we’re constantly supervised. And there’s more a thing that out of respect as well, I mean that’s something you have to understand in Britain, you know – the palace is important to us – so stuff like that does not happen there.”

“Well. Never mind then.”


More hot sex I didn’t have…

More butt stuff…


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