Category Archives: Non Fiction
After thirty-some-odd years on this planet I’ve seen a lot of bad things happen to people. I’ve seen the after affects of someone’s body consumed by fire. I’ve seen people die of various deceases. I’ve witnessed at least two people get hit by cars, I’ve seen a stabbing, I’ve seen a lot of fist fights. That’s not even getting into the consensual shit I’ve seen, which would include things like someone getting their tongue sliced open with a scalpel only to have their mouth peed into and some really atrocious things involving a fork.
Why do I keep apologizing?
I haven’t said it out loud, but it keeps repeating in my head. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
That’s why you get hit, right? You were bad. And even though I am really sorry for all that I did and all that I deserve I also know that this isn’t punishment. Punishment is too easy. She is hitting me because she wants to hurt me. She is hitting me because I want to be hit. This pain is not a consequence, it’s an act all of its own. That makes it scarier because punishments have definitions, limits, sentences. This is pain for pain’s sake.
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.
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.
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.
Sometimes a chaste kiss is all you need.
At the movie your arm brushes against hers. In the dark her lingering perfume is a constant reminder of her proximity. You think about how your body is positioned and how hers is, what it all means. Is she moving closer? Are her legs positioned away? She she trying to give you a sign?
After the movie you make small talk. Funny movie! Serious movie. Scary, sweet, political. I remember this movie once… That happened to my cousin.
A bite to eat? Sure. Eyes become bolder over a table. No dark I hide behind. You can make look right into her eyes while you talk and when she looks back and your gazes linger your heart starts to pound. You can make jokes that are a little more pointed. You can flirt.
Gentle readers, I am going to tell you a true story now. The story of when I had my first sex blogger date. In wonderful sex blog fashion, said date included three people.
Janie Blooms of The Late Bloomer Finally Blooms, who by the way is in full bloom and lovely in her geek chic glasses and buxom brashness. Then there was the ever so charming Mariella from In Media Res… who is exquisite. A coquettish little lolita.
We met at a bar, the three of us, after a little mix up. There were perfunctory conversations. We laughed at the awkwardness of it, even though that awkwardness didn’t seem to exist. We were quite comfortable in fact.
My most recent ex, The Musician, and I have a pretty friendly relationship. Basically I broke up with her because I don’t think we would do well together for the long haul, we are too different.
That being said we are still good friends and she occasionally calls me and says something like “I really need to get fucked can I come over? If you cook for me and fuck me I will blow you and and let you do what ever you want to me.”
This works out well. It’s sort of funny that my cooking is just as much of an impedes for these booty calls as my cock. It’s nice to get my sex ego and my cooking ego stroked at the same time.
I tend to talk big online, but most of the dates I go on are relatively boring. I was in a five year monogamous relationship that ended badly a little over a year ago and ever since I have been on a dating tear. So I tend to go on a lot of dates with new people all the time, most of which I find online. I’m looking for someone to hold my interest, but so far none have held it for any more than a week or two with the exception of The Librarian who I dated for about three months and met on Craig’s list and The Musician who actually lived with me for two months and who I met on some forum somewhere.
(This happened about 7 months ago)
So… my second date with FancyJobGirl.
It went well. It lasted 18 hours. A solid 7 of those involved sex. With another 7 of talking heatedly about books, music, media, marketing, history, movies, gender politics, etymology, etc.
She is a short girl. Ridiculously intelligent. Mensa smart. Quicker than me. A wordsmith. We both came out no holds barred, our best material. We were both impressed and swooning.
She bought breakfast.
I don’t think either of us were expecting sex. She came back to my apartment and after nice conversation I kissed her. She kissed me. I kissed her neck, bit her ear, found her buttons. She reach down my pants and then we were on the bed.
I had another journal a while ago that was pretty locked up. Here is a retelling of events that happened about six months ago.
Not sure what to say about my date last night. Very very odd. Surreal.
Half Asian Video Editor Girl. It was our second date.Went to dinner, walked around, I was frankly thinking things weren’t working out. A lot of awkward silences with me like looking around for some way of escape. Then she sort of randomly asked if we could hang at my apartment.
We took a cab back to my place, she pretty much did that thing girls do where they sit there waiting to be kissed, so I kissed her. Things progressed pretty normally from there.