Author Archives: Jack Stratton
Of late, since my play and my sex life have become both more varied and more plentiful, some of the particulars of my own sexuality have become more and more apparent.
Some of these things I’ve known for years, but haven’t really thought about in depth. In most situations these leanings and proclivities can be hidden by the normal dynamics of sex, especially casual sex, where every position and combination isn’t going to be attempted anyhow, so brevity aids omission or at least camouflage.
Power and control are a lot more important to my sexual pleasure than I once thought. I am realizing I have a lot of trouble giving up control, or, more accurately, giving up what I consider control. That seems somewhat normal — after all, I’m a mostly-straight guy who is primarily a top. By most social norms I should be used to being in control. Still, my ideas about control seem a little warped when I look at them more carefully.
The act of being brought to orgasm by someone or even giving yourself an orgasm in front of someone is, in some fundamental way in my head, a submission. It is showing your out of control side. It is being vulnerable. It is being needy. It is everything that little Jack was taught was bad.
Intellectually I know that this is nonsense. Still, a lot of our reactions during intimacy are non-cognitive, deeply emotional and hard to understand without some real processing.
For example, it’s rare that I have an orgasm through oral sex or manual sex. The exception is that if I am also stimulating my partner
during this, I can focus on that long enough to make me forget. Does that make sense? Like the sex lives of most kinky people, sex is complicated.
I would say I get off far harder making people have orgasms than having them myself, with the exception of really intense penetrative sex which is usually awesome for me.
Fingering a woman, performing oral sex and using sex toys on them all turn me on in a huge way. I’ve gotten into what is probably my favorite activity, making women squirt, in some other posts. There is also “forced orgasm” which is in many ways the apex of my kink, i.e., making someone come over and over again until they can’t stand it anymore and are so overwhelmed by the orgasms and the sensation overload they are left a quivery mess.
I’ve written about that, though. What I haven’t written about much is my own reactions.
I’ve had partners comment when I don’t have an orgasm or don’t even really get into my own physical sexual gratification in a scene. I can do a whole scene mostly clothed while the bottom has been stripped, tied, roughed up, made to come several times. I can go away from a scene like that completely aroused and satisfied. Really, bringing my penis into the situation would make it less of fun time. I get off hard in a scene like that, and the somewhat less important desire to have an orgasm not only gets in the way, but gives the bottom far too much power over me.
There are different ways to play, though. That is describing one mood and maybe one character I let myself slip into: the super observant
reaction top who notices everything, mocks everything, punishes, pleases, and plays for his amusement and to take the bottom somewhere. When I am in that head space I want to force reactions. Pleasure, pain, humiliation, lust, need and even catharsis.
Other times I can be more playful or more mean. Sometimes I just want to fuck and the kinks that go along with that game, spanking, manhandling and pinning down hands, are very different than a full on scene. Sometimes I want to have relatively vanilla sex, but still I am taking it.
To receive pleasure I have to be in a very different place. I have to be with someone I trust to be vulnerable with and that doesn’t happen very often. It has happened though, in long term relationships with people I am in love with and care about enough to show that side of myself. Even then, it is a pretty temperamental thing.
This is also because of the lingering fingers of the Catholic guilt from my childhood. It marks many of my desires with guilt and embarrassment. Along with guilt are the lessons taught both overtly and subconsciously through my childhood by my father: that it is weak and wrong to show emotions. Both factors conspire to taint things like public displays of affection, talking about my emotions, saying “I love you” and showing desire towards men.
My mixed feelings towards sex with men are some of the most violently guilt ridden and humiliating, which leads to them also being ones I read about and think about secretly. Thus my fascination with slash.
Where do I go with this information?
For the last six months I’ve been trying to do things that are out of my comfort zone. I’m testing myself and having adventures and trying to break the barriers that keep me from doing everything that I want. I feel like I am really exploring my own desire and the desires of others. I’m shaky and wide eyed and having a lot of fun. Some of the things, like bottoming, make my fears and mental blocks much more apparent and cumbersome.
A good example of this is how when I am bottoming I feel like I am good at taking pain and force and aggression, but the cuddling afterward makes me want to escape. Receiving pleasure, especially
when I can’t control it or return it, is almost enough to break me out of the whole scene. When I am really turned on my hands shake with the need to take control. When I am confronted with “giving in” and being “made to come” my head twists and turns and won’t let my body do it.
That being said, I am more than willing to try. I even think trying is important. Breaking down the barriers to pleasure is as interesting as reveling in the sublimations my head has come up with to work around the blocks.
It’s interesting to think of how far I’ve come, so to speak, in discovering my sexuality. From looking at dirty stories online as a horny fourteen year old to writing things and doing things I’d never imagined I’d do. It will be interesting to see where my life will go from here.
The dungeon. It’s cliché, I know. This kind of place was never part of my kink and really it still isn’t. The aesthetic is just all wrong. The leather and the stone and the seriousness of it all always seemed silly to me. I could never have imagened, let’s say four years ago, that this was a place I’d like to frequent. Then again, I do a lot of things now that I never would have imagined doing a few years ago.
Truth be told the way the place looked is important, certainly, but not vital to the games I wanted to play. I think of it like the library I go to, the one near my office. Twelve blocks away there is the most beautiful library in the city, possibly the country; the Main Branch of The New York Public Library on Fifth Avenue and 42nd Street. It is huge, a marble monument to knowledge. It is atmospheric, with history and vast ceilings painted with murals. It’s epic, but you can’t borrow books from it unless you have special permission.
A block away from my office there is a very small, very dingy library. It is painted institution green and mostly has large print best sellers, but they will order any book I want from any library in the city and they have all of the things I need. It is easy to get to, it is easy to use. It is handy, like the dungeon.
The dungeon is a place where you can play. Where you can scream as loud as you want and hit as hard as your partner can take and you don’t have to worry about neighbors hearing or roommates coming home. You can just play.
I can’t stop thinking. Over and over I am telling myself to let go. I’m telling myself to submit, but I really have no idea what that means in this context. I tell myself to relax while every fiber of my being tightens and closes up. Some instinct in me is forcing me to protect my center.
I’m tied to a chair, my wrists bound behind me with thin hemp rope and she is hovering above me; interrogator, torturer, top, woman, beauty. Those eyes are unwavering. I wouldn’t say they are cold, but they are certainly unnervingly calm and predatory. Those are the eyes that made me want to do this. Those eyes are studying me, figuring me out. Figuring out how to take me apart.
Her nails rake my chest, then a hand in my hair pulling my head back, then a solid punch to my chest. My jaw clenches and I ready myself for this. I can take anything she can give me. I am a rock and I am unbreakable. She is this immense dangerous force, this powerful, intelligent woman, but I can take anything. I want to take it from her. I want to show her how tough I am.
Title image by julio.garciah. CC BY-NC 2.0
We saw movies. That’s what we did. We saw movies and went to museums.
I met Elise when she briefly worked in my office. She was one of those girls who grew up rich, but Upper West Side rich, not Upper East Side rich. The difference was super-preppy private schools versus super-intellectual immersive savant schools. She went to the latter and left with a rich inner life and a love of art and music and books that most people had never heard of. That, and the inability to really connect with most anyone.
There were the phobias; elevators, undercooked meat, docks, public speaking, crowded spaces, dark alleys, Antarctica, gum. Her worst fear was that she would swallow a piece of chewing gum. She told me she thought about it constantly, though it didn’t stop her from constantly chewing the most sugary, garish pink stuff she could find.
Then there was the OCD and the ADD and the cocktail of pharmacology. She was not trapped within the rigors of counting things and washing hands, but there were little things, more than quirks but less than crippling. There were also the daddy issues because he was like God to her, and the mommy issues because her mother told her she was fat when she was 12. There was a lot going on in this girl’s head.
Every month on the second Tuesday at The Phoenix, 447 East 13th Street @ Avenue A, in the East Village of New York City. Doors open at 7:30pm, reading promptly at 8pm. FREE! But we will pass the hat for donations to the performers.
Here is the text from my reading on 6/8/2010
How I Found my Inner Butch
Hi, my name is Jack and I write about sex on the internet. We are a rare breed.
I was a little taken aback when Sinclair asked me to speak at Sideshow. I was also honored and scared and impressed with him. You see I’m not particularly queer in the way I feel a lot of people use the term, though I’m certainly not straight, or hetero-normative or what ever the opposite of queer is.
Queer is, at this room demonstrates, very much a spectrum.
Title image by itsholly. CC BY-NC 2.0
She is a candy stranger. Perfect in the way someone you don’t know at all can be perfect. Her small breasts and her large hips and soft swell of an ass that seems nearly impossible on her tiny frame. Her thin waist and her wild hair. That exoticness that is so difficult for people to get right.
She is new to this, but she’ll do just fine. In fact, it’s hard to find regulars with an attitude so perfect for these games. Right for me, that is. Everyone wants something different from places like this. The Venn Diagrams of our emotional, physical and sexual wants. Cross-indexed by our needs.
In exploring BDSM in a variety of ways I found my base power position (top) relatively quickly. I like to be the one doing things, hitting, fucking, tying, commanding, humiliating, etc. The complexities of topping versus service topping and other mixed dynamics certainly came up later, but have never really concerned me. I feel like I am naturally toppy, especially in many of the relationships I have been in so far, but that’s not all I am. I contain multitudes and stuff, you know the deal.
Title image by Face It. CC BY-NC 2.0
The thing was, she was young. Very young. Certainly legal, but still, I really should have been ashamed of myself. I was a thirty-two year old man! It started out so simply though. She sent me a picture because I wrote something silly like, if a picture is worth a thousand words than a thousand words must be worth a picture.
KinkForAll is an ad-hoc educational unconference about the convergence of sexuality with the rest of life for anyone and everyone. It is 100% free and open to the public. Anyone with the desire to learn or with something to contribute is welcome and invited to participate.
Just a few reminders of a couple of things I’ve done lately that you can see/hear/read/download:
A couple of months ago I gave a presentation, that turned into two presentations, at KinkForAll DC. My first presentation was on Why Writing about Sex is Important and the other was entitles Slash: SUBTEXT = BUTT SEX.
I was Fleshbotted for the sixth time!
I was listed on the Manhattan Times Neighborhood Blogwatch! It’s kind of awesome that my vanilla neighborhood newspaper spotlighted kinky old me.
And stories are almost done! Actual real stories, just like the ones I used to post. Amazing.
or Jack and Wendy Will Beat Your Ass You Until You Come
Trilby is a hypno-fetishist. Hypnosis has always been something I have been both interested in and conflicted about. I’m a skeptic. This isn’t just a statement about my not taking capital “T” Truths at face value, it is actually a philosophical and a political stance that greatly effects how I look at the world.
The things I’ve read about hypnosis were often inconclusive, ambivalent or simply too vague to verify.
I met Trilby a while ago and I was fascinated from our first conversation about hypnosis and specifically erotic hypnosis. The idea of controlling someone, specifically their sexual reactions, has always been one of my biggest kinks. Not to mention the fact that Trilby was bright, cute and hysterically funny.
Oh and just to destroy all respect anyone had for me, I give you… Harry Potter porn. Keep reading and you will see the slash.
Title: Bad Timing
Summary: Draco finds a diversion during summer vacation, but he is caught in a rather compromising position.
Pairings: Draco/Ginny, Draco/Ginny/Pansy, and Draco/Crabbe/Goyle
Rating: NC17 (Very graphic bits of sex)
Warning: Sex between 5th and 6th years! A not very hard to figure out twist ending!
I am writing up the notes from my two presentations at KinkForAll DC and while writing them I was looking around my hard drive and found some old fan fiction I wrote. I haven’t written any in a while and most of the old stuff I wrote was in a live journal that has since been thoroughly deleted.
Still, just to show that I am not talking completely from left field, here is a Buffy The Vampire Slayer story I wrote long long ago. It is Fem Slash, not pure Slash, but I will look around and see if I can find one of those somewhere, just to show that yes, Jack has written about boys fucking.
PS: This is horrible.
Last night at TES some interesting ideas were brought up. Laine‘s talk was really about Service Archetypes in a very structures MS type relationship. That’s not the kind of dynamic I’m into, but one of the archetypes she spoke about was the “steward” or “majordomo” i.e. A servant who rules over the other servants when the master commands and perhaps when the master isn’t there.
This struck a chord with me because although I can’t really see myself in a service role, I often think the ideal for me (at least in a scene with group larger than three) would be sort of an assistant or second in command to a more experienced top.
Also the line between co-topping and actually bottoming to the lead top turns me on for some reason.
I can imagine being the lab assistant to a mad scientist. A person doing unspeakable things and I am unflappably watching and handing them implements (while impeccably dressed.)
Perhaps the snappily dressed valet to devilish rogue. Like Azolan, Valmont’s manservant in Les Liaisons Dangereuses.
Maybe I will even talk to some people I know about playing this out. We will see.