Heartbreak Nymphomania » relationships

10 reasons why I shouldn’t have had sex, but did anyway

Wilhelmina Wang — Tue, 21 Jun 2011 19:40:00 +0000

As a preface, I just want to say that I expect you to realize that, obviously, I’m not trying to say that (promiscuous) sex is inherently “bad.” You can have sex for good reasons and bad reasons; you can have sex safely, or you can do it in ways that hurt yourself and others. I also want to say that this post isn’t meant as a guide of sorts – though if you do come away with some new insights, then great. Basically, though, it’s exactly what the title indicates it is. You guys probably have lists of your own. Or maybe you don’t have a list at all!

If this blog is “about” anything (besides sexuality, that is), it’s about my vulnerabilities. I’ve written extensively about happy-sex; so now here are some of the more unpleasant reasons why I’ve had sex.

Because I was in love with the other person. – And I either thought sex would help make them fall in love with me (worst idea ever)¹, or that it would help forge a romantic relationship (sometimes it does, sometimes it doesn’t) or because the other person didn’t love me back, but I wanted to get as close to them as possible. And if a close friendship + fuck buddies was “as close as I could get”, well…
Because I wanted to become friends with someone, or because I thought they were interesting and I wanted to get to know them better. – This has actually worked a few times, I’m became friends with a handful of my friends after hooking up with them first. At one point, I was more confident with flirting and with my sexuality than I was with simply approaching someone and trying to strike up a conversation with them. Sex came to me more easily so I… used it as an “icebreaker”.² Not to say that I wasn’t attracted to those people – I was, in a way – but I probably would have preferred keeping things platonic. I don’t think my social skills have really improved all that much, but I am at least making a conscious effort to not shove things into a sexual context just because it’s the easiest thing to do.
Because I liked that people knew me as “that freaky sexual guru who slept with everyone.” - This was only true at my fraternity. Until that point in my life I had only ever been known as “that creepy, awkward girl who doesn’t talk to anyone” or “that nerdy pushover who will help me with my homework if I annoy her enough.” Being known as “that promiscuous kinkster” was… a nice change of pace. Through osmosis, I sort of subconsciously believed that having a lot of sex is “cool” – at least cooler than being a big ol’ nerd – which I consciously think is just silly, because no type of sexual behavior makes you “better” or “cooler”, it’s simply a matter of preference. Eventually, being known for being promiscuous/sexual was just as irritating as being known for the other two things. All three of them are true – they are parts of who I am – but considered by themselves, they are all incredibly one-dimensional. It’s like people saw me as a parody or a caricature of myself.
Because I missed one of my other lovers. - This happened a couple of times – the first time, I was fucking person X but thinking about person Y and missed them so much that I burst into tears, and then hurriedly left. Obviously, person X was very worried about me the next day. The second time, I was fucking person X but imagining person Y in their place and felt so guilty about it that I – that’s right – left. Do I even need to explain why this was terribly unfair to everyone involved?
Because I was lonely. - I think everyone has done this at some point.
Because I was horny and the other person was “just there.” - See above.
Because I was attracted to person X, but person X would only have sex with me as a two-for-one deal with person Y. - This only happened to me once, with two guy friends who I was on a foreign trip with. I was horribly attracted to person X, but was not attracted to person Y, like… at all. But they only seemed interested in having sex with me if they could sandwich me. It wasn’t worth it. It wasn’t unpleasant per se, just… strange.
Because I was feeling insecure and needed a self-esteem boost; I needed to feel “valuable.” - The control; knowing that someone’s attention is riveted on you at least for a few minutes… However, after it’s over I was more or less back to square one, and it didn’t solve the underlying problem that I, well, had low self-esteem. Seeking validation through sex… just… no.
Because I couldn’t be bothered to say that I wasn’t really all that into it.
Because I thought that once I started touching the other person’s genitals, I had entered into some sort of binding contract that meant I had to then have oral/penetrative sex with them. - I have no idea why I thought this for so long. I was never even coerced/persuaded by any of my partners, I just… believed it. It seems so ridiculous now. As to how/why I realized that it wasn’t true – I have no idea about that, either. It just hit me one day – while I was making out with someone and knowing that I didn’t want to do anything besides just make out – that wow, I don’t actually have to do anything that I don’t really feel like doing!

I say this because you can’t “make” anyone fall in love with you – either they will or they won’t. The most you can do is spend time with them and then let them know you’re interested. The focus isn’t on the sex itself, here, I think trying to make someone fall in love with you in any way is doomed to fail. It’s also kind of disrespectful, to say the least.
While typing this I’m aware of how messed up that sounds but… well, it’s the truth.

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Examining My (Conflictingly) Poly Self

Wilhelmina Wang — Tue, 24 May 2011 11:11:17 +0000

I know that I’m poly, to some level.

I call myself “theoretically polyamorous,” as in, I know that I’m capable of being being attracted to or in love with multiple people at once, but I don’t put it into practice in my life, i.e. in a practical sense, I am monogamous.

There are many reasons for this. When I think about how I act when I’m dating someone, it takes enough time and energy to just do that with one person that I can’t imagine putting equal time and attention on even more people. Also, contradictorily, I can be quite jealous and possessive. I need the person I’m with to be very focused on me and for me to be “#1″ in their romantic life. I know polyamorous people have to deal with jealousy, as well, but I don’t even want to explore poly as an option because I’m afraid that the negative results will end up largely outweighing the positive.

Recently, I started becoming attracted to another guy here. I thought about talking to L about opening up our relationship – not even so we could date other people, but just to engage in casual sexual relationships – but I felt uncomfortable with even that. I know L would be up for it because he doesn’t want to “restrict who I am” – but I don’t want him to do it for that reason, I want it to be something he is interested in doing as well. I also know that if he did something with another person I might end up panicking over it, and I don’t think it would be fair for one of us to be doing things with other people but not the other. I’d need to deal with my jealous feelings first, or find a better way of coping, for an open relationship to even be an option.

L knows about all this, and basically told me he didn’t care that I felt attracted to someone else; that it was normal. He was more bothered by my mentally beating myself up over the attraction than the attraction itself.

Anyway, what ended up happening was that for a while I treated the guy with a combination of wanting-to-get-to-know-you friendliness, antagonism, and trying very hard to not take any notice of him at all. Eventually I decided it would be better for me to spare the poor man my nonsense, and cease all contact with him except brief, cordial greetings when I ran into him.

—

Besides the thing with this guy, there have been other perplexing things that have happened; my feeling desire due to seeing some people engage in rope play – people I wasn’t even attracted to usually (perhaps that just means I have a real fetish for rope play); and, with a handful of people I know, not wanting to date them, have sex with them, or engage in any other sort of sexual activity with them, but wanting to form a very strong emotional bond with them (perhaps that’s just close friendship and I’m misinterpreting it as something else).

Maybe if I could just find words that describe these things, it would be enough of a solution.

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Do you want to tie me up? …Platonically?

Wilhelmina Wang — Sat, 12 Feb 2011 06:15:26 +0000

This probably isn’t very novel or mindblowing or even particularly interesting to read for many of you, yet I feel the need to articulate it in some way: I don’t always associate BDSM with sex.

Like I said: not a new concept. However, considering my relative newness to BDSM, it is a concept that I’ve had some difficulty managing. While I think that most seasoned BDSM-ers know that not everyone likes to connect the two things, for some reason I’ve always been worried that if I ask someone to tie me up at a play party, they might think that I’m also hitting on them. I mean, it would be a fair assumption to make. And, while I obviously enjoy incorporating BDSM into my sex life, getting tied up gives me many sensations and feelings that aren’t necessarily sexual: peace, security, vulnerability, joy. Sometimes I can appreciate rope bondage purely for its artistry; and sometimes learning how to tie from someone or trying out new ties is simply fascinating and fun.

I’m not really afraid of the other person taking it too far, or assuming that because I want to do X, I might also want to do Y and Z. I’ve always felt very safe in the kinky events I have gone to; and because of the usual emphasis on consent and negotiation in most BDSM communities, I can trust the other person won’t try to do anything else before asking me first. I am, however, afraid of sending the message that, though I might not want to do anything sexual now, I might want to later. I’m afraid of misleading the other person and then having to “reject” them. Doing that is always really unpleasant.

I suppose one of the inherent problems with socializing at events where the primary thing everyone has in common revolves around sexuality, i.e. being into BDSM or being a queer woman, is that some people will think you’re looking for sex. Since I’ve been dating L, I have been trying to meet people both in the BDSM and queer women communities and it’s always a little awkward to explain that #1 I’m in a monogamous relationship and #2 my significant other isn’t here with me because we don’t live in the same place.¹ It’s not like I think you need to be dating someone to justify looking to make friends or to participate in non-sexual BDSM, but it definitely has been more of an issue for me, personally, since dating L.

…There should be a hanky code for this.

And then re: the queer women events, there’s the added difficulty of having to explain that I still identify as queer and want to meet other queer women even though I’m currently dating a man.

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Make me a Match

Wilhelmina Wang — Mon, 12 Jul 2010 11:19:04 +0000

Wil: [sticks a $2.99 price tag from a purchased energy drink on L's shirt] There, now you’re $2.99.

L: So I’m a cheap slut?

Wil: You’re my cheap slut!

L: [laughs] I’d totally put that on a T-shirt and wear it. “Wilhelmina’s cheap slut.”

Wil: Next time we’re at Zeta Mu I should just write it on your chest and you can walk around shirtless.

Later…

L: What do you want for dinner?

Wil: I’m fine with leftovers. Since I’m, you know, a classless ho and stuff.

L: [laughs] I love that you just said that. Hey, you should put that on a shirt. Then we can match!

—

…yeah, I like to think of us as a subversive version of that disgustingly cute couple you wish wasn’t in your line of sight on the subway.

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Gravitation

Wilhelmina Wang — Sun, 23 May 2010 05:52:07 +0000

[via My Lonely Hearts Club]

gravitation. n. movement, or tendency to move, toward a center of attractive force, as in the falling of bodies to the earth.

It doesn’t have to take more than a glance. You can tell almost immediately. Not love at first sight; rather, the recognition of potential. Or: desire.

How is it that you know this about a person so quickly? …It doesn’t matter. You must react to it. You owe it to yourself, and to whatever arcane forces in your head or in the air that’s causing this to happen.

—

This is more a reminder to myself than anything. For the second time in a handful of months, I discovered a connection to someone, but didn’t take action quickly enough. It’s a little frustrating when you know the only reason you’re not with someone right now is because somebody else got there first…

At the same time, I’m almost happy enough knowing that the potential is there but it isn’t going to turn into anything. A little self-denial is probably good for me.

And, anyway, I’m enjoying the tension.

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Presence & Acceptance

Wilhelmina Wang — Sun, 09 May 2010 16:26:30 +0000

… are the two things that I want the most right now, from a lover. Or from anyone I’m close to, actually.

This post is made up of edited excerpts of an email exchange I’ve been having with the Emperor. I’m just sharing it here because I’d like to see if anyone has an opinion on it, or had experiences similar to this they wanted to share. I think I want what everyone in this world is looking for, in some shape or form.

—

I am a very lonely person. Today, I was thinking about how it’s been ages since I was next to someone and felt like they were fully there with me. Completely present in every fiber of their being. Lately, I’ve been very aware of being in the same room – same bed with someone, even – and feeling such distance. And thinking that it’s not so much that we’re there with each other, than it is that we both happen to be in the same place at the same time. Right now, I don’t feel like anybody is so much a part of my life, or me a part of theirs, than we are simply bystanders of each other’s lives.

I also want very much to let people close to me. Really let them in. It’s hard first of all to find someone to trust with that much of myself, and then there’s the issue of feeling like I’m forcing lots of baggage on someone. It’s a weighty act for the other person to be able to see me else completely. I would imagine it to be an unwanted burden many times.

I was talking to Sir a while ago, and he said something like, “it’s no good to have a partner you can’t unleash yourself on.” And for me that applies to close friends or close… anyone, as well. I want someone to just be able to take and accept me in all my ridiculousness, but I end up feeling guilty for not filtering myself in case they won’t be able to handle it.

More and more, I’m realizing the intimacy that comes from the power, violence and extreme acts that constitute BDSM. I’ve had little tastes of it, and want so much to experience it with someone on a deep level, but have no idea how to find it.

I want to meet someone and look at them and think: I know you. And to look at them and realize they’re thinking the same thing. That we understand each other without having to say anything; that we are the same.

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26 whacks

Wilhelmina Wang — Wed, 28 Apr 2010 22:36:39 +0000

Today’s task:

Carry a small notebook with you. Keep notes of the following:

- times you crave contact
- times you see someone and want them
- times you think of pain
- drinks you take

For each instance of the above, you will paddle yourself once as follows:

– sit in a straight-backed chair with legs bare
- keep your legs apart
- slap your inner thigh with your wooden hair brush. This should be hard enough to just sting, but not bruise
- strike the same spot every time.
- make sure each slap follows in quick succession
- if there were less than 20 items, give yourself 20 more slaps.

Drinks I’ve had today: 3
People I’ve seen and wanted to fuck: 1
Times I craved sexual contact: 10
Times I craved pain: 12
Total number of whacks: 26

Guess how many of the instances I wanted sex coincided with the instances I wanted pain?

This is another instance of me getting a task from Sir and thinking: “omg, how evil!” as well as “omg, how ingenious.” After reading over his instructions for the day, I felt like I was playing “the game”… you know, “you only lose at the game by thinking about the game”, etc. After knowing what was in store for me, I kept thinking about it. And I’d also remind myself that I had to do it, which made me think about how much I wanted it.

Quite clever.

The whacks stung more than I expected, but clearly weren’t that painful since they only left a hint of red, which has now faded.

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Choke

Wilhelmina Wang — Tue, 27 Apr 2010 00:45:41 +0000

Sir has been on a bit of a choking kick lately.

He’s never really mentioned choking before, but since I started subbing to him he’s brought it up quite a bit.

Today, Sir granted me two jack-off sessions. The first was while I was videochatting with him. After telling me to strip off each piece of my clothing until I was naked, he gave me a choice: to come on camera, or off camera. After some initial nervousness, I felt comfortable enough with myself to choose to come on camera. I lay back, adjusted the computer so he could see, closed my eyes, and went at it. I knew Sir was naked, jerking off at the same time, and I wish I wasn’t so self-conscious so I could look into the camera, and watch him.

Maybe next time.

Afterwards, Sir told me how much he enjoyed seeing me. He’s trying to make it so that I’m comfortable enough to perform for him. I’m surprised at how quickly I felt at ease with being naked, and then getting myself off, in front of him.

My second session came with a condition:

Since you did so well with your performance art – you are due for a reward. We will focus on your traditional pleasure points. Toys are permitted. but you are required to do this in a way that pleases me. you will be fully naked, lying on your back. There is one key – you need to loop a belt around your neck, and pull it just slightly tight as you do this. Cut off no oxygen, just make it slightly harder to breathe. I wnat you to be able to come through this sensation… and hopefully love it.

Initially, I was at pains to figure out a way to keep the belt around my neck hands-free and without hurting myself. Finally, I looped the belt around my neck, used a rubber band to mark the point where I’d want to add a new hole, and made a new hole in the belt with a craft knife thing I’d drunken-kleptomaniacally taken from Zeta Mu one night (I should probably return it). The belt itself, interestingly enough, is from my first boyfriend. He left it behind, and I kept it, but it actually doesn’t fit me. I used it to belt Christopher once, and hopefully will use it again.

Anyway, the belt made it more laborious for me to breathe, but didn’t actually deprive me of air or make me feel lightheaded or anything, which I assume was the point. Feeling the leather and metal tight around my neck, and having to alter my breathing, added to my arousal almost immediately.

I used my trusty Lelo Ina and came ridiculously quickly.

I’m looking forward to the day that Sir will be the one wielding the belt.

—

Note: I only had the belt around my neck for a 10-15 minutes, but I wonder if doing this multiple times would damage my neck. I feel like it’s the same as wearing a collar tight around your neck, but maybe I’m wrong. If anyone has any advice about this, please let me know. Also, ideally I would have wanted to do this with somebody else, maybe one of my roommates, knowing what I was doing so they could come check on me, just in case.

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Voice

Wilhelmina Wang — Sun, 25 Apr 2010 19:57:41 +0000

This post is the result of a task Sir set me yesterday. His prompt:

I want you write a story about being fucked by me. Assume your wrists will be bound, and that I will have freedom to roll you on your knees or your back. This story should be full of explicit detail, and focus on how your body and mind feel through the experience.

Once written, I want you to make an MP3 of you reading it. GarageBand on your computer will do the recording for you. Depending on the quality of your performance, I will give you some sort of reward session.

Recording this was interesting. I felt so awkward at the beginning, and I hate my voice, but as I read more, I started to feel weirdly liberated. I started owning the words that came out of my mouth and enjoyed saying them.

—

The tension had been building up all day – from the moment you’d met at the bus station and exchanged conspiratorial smiles. And then there was all the “accidental” brushing up against each other at the restaurant; your toe stroking his ankle briefly under the table, spooning ice cream into your mouth, your eyes twinkling.

When you arrive at the hotel room, he didn’t waste any time. He tells you that he wants you naked, and you comply, nervously stripping off each piece of clothing and piling everything neatly on one of the armchairs.

“Stand still,” he says. He comes up behind you and slips something silky over your eyes and around your head. His tie, probably. Then: nothing. You can feel his appraising gaze on you. The room is not at all cold, but your skin is chilled and prickling with goosebumps.

When you feel his hand on your wrist, you almost jump out of your skin. The sound of velcro separating licks through the quiet room. He puts your hands behind your back and cuffs you.

More nothing: just rustling, then the unmistakable clink of a belt buckle. You swallow, wondering what he’s going to do next.

Soon, he returns, standing in front of you.

He tells you to kneel. You do, feeling the soft carpeting against your knees, being careful to keep your balance. You begin to feel yourself fall swiftly and irresistibly into that comfortable, confined space in your mind.

“The thought of fucking my pet has made me hard.”

He fists his hand in your hair and yanks you forward. You can feel his hardness against your cheek: warm, already leaking pre-cum that smears onto your face.

“Do you want me to fuck you, pet?”

“Yes, Sir. So badly.”

“In time. First, you’ll take my cock in your mouth. And if you please me… I’ll fuck you.” His fingers tighten in your hair.

Doing this without your hands or sight is more than awkward. You touch your nose to the side of his cock, put our your tongue and lick along the underside, then wrap your lips around the head, swirling your tongue, and swallow.

You want to take all of him in, know that you can’t, but try anyway. Your throat makes embarrassing, crude sucking noises, and you gag around him. You try to relax, willing your body to accept his cock, wanting to accept his cock, and that makes it easier. He keeps his hand in your hair, moving you to the rhythm that he wants. After a while he releases you. Your lips are covered in saliva and it’s threatening to drip down your chin, but you can’t wipe it away. You lick your lips instead.

“Stand up.” His breath is ragged. It makes you want to smile.

You wobble to your feet and he plucks your small body up into his arms, and sets you back down. You’re face down on the bed.

“Get on your knees and bend over.”

You tuck your knees under you, pushing your face against the sheets to get into position. You can feel him looming over you. He smooths his hand over one asscheek, and then his fingers find your cunt – your sopping wet cunt. You whimper. He chuckles. He fingerfucks you, fast and hard, gradually adding more fingers. When you seem to be on the verge of coming, he derails you with a well-placed spank.

He withdraws his fingers and you feel a new pressure on the bed. He rests his hands on your hips.

“I’m going to fuck you, pet. You’re not allowed to come until I tell you to.”

You groan. You feel him pause at your entrance for a split second, before he plunges into you, making you gasp. He pounds you, there’s no other word for it: his cock filling you, his hips bumping against your ass, his fingers pressing into your hips so hard there’s sure to be bruises later.

He pulls out of you suddenly and flips you over.

“I’m going to cut off your air for ten seconds,” he says; breathless himself.

You nod. He enters you again. At the same time, you feel his hand clamp down around your throat. The lack of air and intense fucking make you feel light-headed.

The ten seconds stretch out forever, but eventually he releases you.

“You may come.”

His hand moves from your neck to your clit. He starts pounding you in earnest, and you come almost instantly: screaming out your orgasm so loud you swear the entire floor can hear it. After a few more strokes, he follows you over the edge, groaning against you, flooding you with his come.

A moment of inertia: the both of you panting, hearts beating a mile a minute. Then he sits up, gathers you in his arms and removes the cuffs and the silk tie. And all you can think is: I screamed. I didn’t think I was capable of it, I didn’t think I could contain that much sensation. But I did scream, and he made me.

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Pet

Wilhelmina Wang — Thu, 22 Apr 2010 21:18:53 +0000

It’s only been about a month since me and J broke up, and already I’m back up to my old tricks.

A few days ago, I was venting to an online friend (who I will refer to from now as the Inventor) about the breakup. He consoled me, and after a while the conversation somehow segued to the topic of BDSM.

He asked if I wanted to submit to him.

I said yes.

For the past few days, he has given me numerous tasks to do. Some highlights: go without underwear for the entire day, expose myself and take a picture (he gave me permission to post it ^ ), & wear a plug for at least an hour.

He requests that I call him Sir, and wear my amethyst & silver bracelet (the one I used last time I was subbing for someone) when serving him. He let me choose my own title. I find most submissive titles somewhat obnoxious. I couldn’t really settle on one I loved, but I went with one that sounded less obnoxious than the others – pet. The more he addresses me with it, the more I grow to like it.

He knows I’m inexperienced, and so is doing his best to build me up without causing me (too much) discomfort. So far, I’ve given up quite a lot of control to him already. I cannot touch myself or orgasm without his permission (excluding sex with other people), and starting from tomorrow he will be picking out clothes for me. (I sent him a list of most of the clothes and shoes I own. God, that was a long list.) Interestingly, I think the clothing rule will be more difficult than the orgasm rule, because clothes are such a big part of my self-expression. But, then, that’s also part of the reason why I like that rule so much. Having someone control my behavior, even though it may be in seemingly inconsequential terms, is such an exciting act to me.

He also wants to make a point to get me to get over my aversion to verbalizing my thoughts and wants. If I’m IMing with someone, or writing, the dirty talk will just come pouring out – I’ve even started narrating sex in my head sometimes – but when it comes to saying it out loud, I freeze up. He knows this about me. He also wants to get me to be more comfortable with “performing” on cam for him. (And he knows me well enough to explicitly forbid any form of “liquid courage” while I’m camming with him. Damn.)

Yesterday, we were camming and he was telling me how hard he was at the thought of fucking me. Seeing his face and being able to put his facial expression to the words was exciting enough – I mostly just IM with him, and have spoken to him on the phone a couple of times, but never cam with him. Then he panned the camera down to show me the unmistakable bulge in his jeans. I bit down on my lip; on the tips of my fingers.

He said I might get to see more if I did something else for him. He wanted me to say, out loud, how much I wanted to fuck him. And to call him Sir. Nicely.

Part of me hates calling people “Sir” out loud. The word just sounds out of place; like I shouldn’t be using it.

But I did it. I fumbled around awkwardly in my seat for a minute, and then I did it.

He rewarded me by letting me watch him take his cock out and stroke himself, slowly. I stared. I wanted so much to take him in my mouth…

After I got over some of the initial nervousness and shyness, I began wondering how I could make things even more interesting. Like a child with a new schoolteacher, I started thinking about loopholes, margins that I could play with. D/s is interesting because it’s basically mutual manipulation, except both parties know exactly what’s going on. I wouldn’t want to do enough to anger or disrespect him, but I’m curious about what a little struggle could do.

I got an answer today. Last night, I got drunk at Zeta Mu and couldn’t find this one person I’d been looking to hook up with (again). I went to bed drunk and sexually frustrated, and ended up putting my hands into my boxers and touching myself for a few minutes before drifting off to sleep.

I confessed this to him today, while I was at work, actually. He told me to find a private place, expose my ass, and spank myself hard enough to leave a red mark. I very self-consciously went to the restroom and did so. I knew that my hand would not be enough, so I ended up using a letter opener. Talk about creative use of office supplies.

I came back to my desk feeling embarrassed and obedient, with the sting of the letter opener slowly fading away as I sat.

I’ve been brought to such a heightened state of sexual tension that it feels like my entire body is thrumming. I think about fucking him while I’m at work, and while I’m doing my daily errands. I picture him taking me bent over desks, surreptitiously in darkened hallways, and on sumptuous bedsheets. I picture him biting me, fucking me hard and kissing the breath out of me until I’m too spent to move or speak after he’s done.

Naturally, I hadn’t done anything sexual for about a week beforehand. He has only granted me one orgasm so far, so I savored it. I made myself come like I hadn’t in a long time: only with my fingers, slowly circling my clit and exploring my folds, while imagining him throwing me over his lap, spanking me and making me whimper, before brushing his fingers, oh so softly, over my wetness.

He has wonderfully large hands. I know that much.

This is re-opening parts of me that had been temporarily closed off. I’m writing erotica again; feeling my sexual energy again. I didn’t realize what a big part of my sexuality kink was. I don’t need it all the time, but it was definitely difficult being with a purely vanilla partner. I love vanilla sex as much as anyone, but so often my mind would naturally edge towards biting, scratching, slapping, serving and kneeling. Not being able to express my sexuality that way made me kind of boring.

I’m grateful for what he has done for/with me so far. And I’m looking forward for what is to come.

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