Hi Jennifer. We haven't met yet, but will on XXXX night when I come with Greg to class. He is playing a huge role in my life, influencing me by gently, persistently, patiently challenging my awareness of my sexuality, and I understand you play a huge part in this new self awareness. I thank him for guiding me on a journey of finding my soul. So I must say thank you to you too.
I feel like I can't get enough of this new journey. I have a wonderful life, and felt completely content with it as it was, until meeting Greg. Now I am reading books, websites, examining my thoughts and responses, not only to him but to myself, to music, (which is something I must have), to my fantasies. Never did I expect to find this at 52 yrs of age. Wonderful stuff!
I look forward to meeting you and continuing this journey - and I thank you for being out there for all of us. To quote "The Joy of Sex" - why do most women want it, hard, and harder? Because we were told we shouldn't want it, it was dirty, it was to please your man.... once we allow ourselves to participate and make our needs known, we want all of it now - there doesn't seem to be enough time to make up for lost time!
And I am spreading the word. Seems the more this all has become as normal as eating and sleeping and working and ..., the more I am free to discuss what i am experiencing. How much fun it has been to share it with my daughter, my girlfriends, my hairdresser.... the list goes on! :)
See you soon. It will be an honor to meet you. Sincerely, Rebecca
And this next email is from a man who attended last Saturday's Naughty Party, it is sizzling hot to read and it was even more enjoyable to have witnessed it all first hand. My job has some serious good points now and then.
Words cannot describe the experience—but I’ll try
The following story is 100% true. The names of the people involved are entirely fake.
It’s been a few months since I was convinced to join the Libido Lounge, which has been an eye-opening experience in several ways. It’s been a few months more since Catherine and I agreed to make our relationship open and polyamorous. Introducing first non-monogamy, then kink into my life has wrought some changes, obviously. Perhaps I should have blogged more about these things at the time, but que sera, sera.
A while back, I ran into someone once or twice at these events. Having dinner with Catherine after listening to a seminar by rope guru Jay Wiseman, I found myself to my great surprise telling her, with respect to this person, I don’t know if I have a type in guys, but if I do, that guy’s it. I found myself wondering whether he played with boys. I found myself rather torn, too. I was happily open-minded enough by now not to feel any moral qualms, but discovering an attraction to someone of the same sex is still a rather upsetting experience, in the literal sense, causing me to question things about my sexuality that I had thought were fundamental. Additionally, I was naturally curious to see if this might ever go somewhere, but I had no idea what his sexual orientation was. If I broached the subject—I wasn’t afraid of offending (anyone, in these circles, who took offence to that should not be in these circles!), but of building false hopes. What if he were interested in guys, what if he took an interest, what if I then discovered that I really, truly am the 0 on the Kinsey scale I had always thought? I hate being a let-down to anyone.
Things took a further, convoluted twist. This guy, Will, turned out to be dating a girl, Sandy, whom Catherine was dating (and with whom I hope to build a relationship, too), who’s very much into rope bondage. As a result, the four of us found ourselves at a play party shortly thereafter, in a room together, me tied up on the floor in a rather immobile configuration and, under the gentle ministrations of crops and Wartenburg wheels, getting my first introduction to subspace. The three of them were doing things, though I could never tell you who did what—even if I hadn’t been in a trance-like state at the time, I was tied up in such a way that I couldn’t see. That heightened the experience, but it didn’t really resolve my questions. I believe it was then that I confided to Sandy just how curious and conflicted I was. She smiled at me and told me not to worry.
Well, about a week ago I got a message from Will: “you want to go with me as a 'couple' (basically together) to this Saturday's play party? I'm not trying to seduce you (but whatever happens between consensual adults, hehe), but would love to do some BDSM play with you…”
Well, this was it—this was clearly it. A one-on-one play with Will? This would resolve my questions; it could be incredibly exciting, or it could end in an absolute disaster of awkwardness as I found out, mid-play, that no, I really am one hundred percent straight.
I think it’s some credit to my personal growth that I had the courage to say yes.
There was some negotiation during the week, where I gave prior consent to some things I never thought I’d hear myself agree to (from a guy at least!), and ruled out some other things (some for medical reasons, some because, honestly, I’m not nearly as hardcore as Will is when he subs). Saturday came around; there was a workshop before the party, but the topic was negotiation and he clearly felt he knew what that was about; I felt that I was getting a practical introduction. He was to pick me up at eight. I was to bring my kilt and wear a shirt that I could stand to have damaged.
By the time eight o’ clock approached I was so nervous that my hands were quite literally and violently trembling. Typing was getting tricky, eating difficult, taking some pills that I had to take nearly impossible—I had trouble holding on to the damned things. My stomach was churning with the kind of butterfly wings that might famously destroy Tokyo. By the time we actually arrived at the Lounge (and I had seen the size of the monstrous wooden paddle Will was bringing), I was more physically stable, but probably just because my trembling had hit a node of resonance. I never came very near chickening out, but I did come very close to wishing I dared to (funny thought, that; potentially lacking the courage to chicken out).
The ropework wasn't terribly intricate. I was tied up standing upright, hands to my thighs, completely inescapable as the ropes went through D-rings in my double-locking leather bracelets. Rope around my torso, outside my shirt. There wasn’t much play going on, and though I was facing a wall I knew there were people watching (though oh, I didn’t know how many), and this was the point where I thought the whole thing might just might have been a mistake.
If I believed in any god, this is where I’d have thanked him for blindfolds. I thought I was going to faint when Will was cutting the buttons off my shirt.
I don’t think I can go into too much detail about the rest. At the point where my shirt was cut to shreds and ripped off me, I was gritting my teeth with nerves. Cupping, Wartenberg wheels…I couldn’t tell you in what order any of this happened. At some point around here, I started sinking into subspace, that blissful trance where I give in to the fact that I have no control over what‘s happening, and with the aid of the blindfold, self-consciousness eventually subsided and faded away. I do know what came last—a series of hits for each of my birthdays (though the numbers weren’t quite consistent: One was marked by about forty pretty light strokes; some of the teenage strokes…dear god).
I’d never previously understood why people wanted pain. I’ve heard Will speak of pain for the sake of pleasure and pain for the sake of pain; I got the former, but why should anyone ever want the latter? And yet I took a good number of hits that made me cry out, that made my knees buckle, and on any other occasion or in any other state of mind I’m sure I’d have used the safeword…but by then I was so deep in subspace, so blissed out on norepinephrine that even though, yes, fuck it hurt every time that bigger-than-cricket-bat paddle hit me (let alone that awful metal crop), that between every stroke, I was sagging over the padded horse I was bent over, smiling like I’ve never smiled before…once the sting subsided, until I recovered enough to straighten my buckled knees for the next one.
I don’t know if Will—or anyone—could see that smile, the way I was sagging over that thing.
I’m sure there’s plenty more that could be said about the night, but I couldn’t tell you. If you wanted a blow-by-blow account (pun intended), you’d have to ask Will—or perhaps a bystander. I gather the whole thing lasted very roughly an hour and a half. I couldn’t have told you; it might have been forty-five minutes or four hours, for all I knew. The one other thing I really do know and will never forget is that Will slipped a condom on me and sucked my cock.
Oh my fucking god, a guy sucked my cock in front of a roomful of people. Me, the guy who used to be so skittish of male physical contact that some of my best friends have teased me about being a homophobe (however philosophically accepting).
And I don’t have much more to say about that except that the lower pitch of a man’s voice makes for entirely different vibrations even from a simple moan, “Mmmm”.
After the whole ordeal was over, my knees buckled after the last blow of whatever frightful bat or paddle was used to celebrate my twenty-sixth birthday, my hands finally untied, we walked into the next room. I’m told that a few people asked if I was all right—I gather I was pretty visibly out of it, very far from reality at the moment. (Jennifer, the hostess, assured them that I was okay since someone was following me; alone, not so much.) Aftercare is a very real, very important, very necessary thing. And it struck me as being in some measure ironic that before last night, that alone—the very idea of sitting on a couch and cuddling with a guy—would have seemed to me to some degree shocking, outrageous…
It was an evening that took me that much deeper into subspace, showed me why submissives like even the pain that isn’t enjoyable, introduced me to things that I never knew I’d be introduced to, and broke sexual boundaries I never thought would be broken. I’ve had intense experiences before, but never one where so many walls of taboos where shattered all at once.
Here’s hoping I’ll see you soon again, Dude.
