writingdirty

Dirty stories by Jack Stratton

Tag: slash

Sex and Power

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.

Notes on my KinkForAllNYC2 presentation

This is a write up of my first presentation at KinkForAllNYC2 as well as a lot of peripheral information from my talk at Sex 2.0 DC.

See the KinkForAllNYC2 Schedule Grid for write-ups, video and pictures of other presentations.

You can see video of part of this presentation on YouTube (Part 1, Part 2)

Anonymity’s Effect on Online Sex Writing

I’ve been reading online erotica since there has been erotica online. Starting with BBS (Bulletin Board Systems), using a 2400 baud modem to dial up and log into places like Technet and The Unforgiven Board to scour the forums for hand transcribed copies of badly written stroke stories from magazines and pulp novels.
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From the Dating Archives – The Video Editor

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.

I was pretty confused, because she seemed to send me a lot of messages that this wasn’t going to happen. She shot me down the first date. I slowed down during the kissing and asked her if I was moving to fast and her response was “I want you to fuck me.”

Well, I may not be the best at reading messages, but that one I think I can interpret as a positive.

Let me describe her. My height, chubby-ish with most of her weight carried in her behind and breasts. Shoulder length straight black hair, warm light brown eyes, which are sort of asian looking, but sort of not. Pale skin with lots of freckles on her nose and cheeks. Cute in a dorky way.

I didn’t really think about it at first, but she wore a long sleeve shirt on both dates… though I did notice she did the emo sleeve tug a lot, pulling sleeves over her hands. She took her pants of as things progressed, but only pulled up her shirt and I started to get why.

Cutters. I have been with cutters before. I should have read it a long time back. I saw the first few on her belly, all in a neat little row. The more skin that was exposed the more I realized she was a serious cutter. I mean… rows of neat deep scars. Neat and even rows with the occasional slash across. You could see the attention to pattern and the occasionally followed urge to ruin even her own destructive works.

She has tattoos (chinese characters) on her wrists and up her arms, plus a large character on her chest between her breasts and I would lean later two playing cards on her back. The queen of hears and the queen of spades… significance?

Then I saw an almost successful suicide attempt, big thick slashes down her wrist. She has kangi tattoos all down her arm and the scar splits the dark ink
in half with a golden white scar as thick as a pencil. Which means it wasn’t that long ago. It was after she got the tatoos which I am guessing were done when she was in her early 20’s.

Hm.

People have issues, I’m fine with that, I understand that. But to be honest I got freaked. I had an equipment failure. I think it was the big scars cutting into the tattoos… I kept thinking about it.

But I worked through it. She had a good time and I eventually found my way through to at least some degree.

I always kiss scars. It just seems like what you should do. Does that make sense? She seemed to be comforted by it.

She had to go home because she didn’t bring anything for her contact lenses… or just didn’t want to stay, who knows.

Weird weird night. I like her, not in any serious way, but she is sort of fascinating in an emotionally fucked up way. Really she seemed bubbly and happy the whole time, I had no idea what would be under her shirt, besides very large breasts.

I certainly don’t want to rattle her or ask too many questions that she doesn’t want to answer… still my curiosity will always overpower any other emotion. Queen of Hearts and Queen of Spades… hm. Dark past or just a troubled youth? What broke that little girl?

Sigh, deep down part of me just thinks of people as stories. Deep down I kind of like that I feel that way.

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