I am taking a course on the history of sexuality (fascinating!). During a seminar, we were discussing what “good” and “bad” sex, in the general opinion, was in 1980 and is now. So basically we were making a list (mind you: instead of discussing whether or not there actually is such a thing as a dichotomy between good and bad sex. That sucked already) of current ideas on what is considered good/accepted sex and what is bad/taboo sex. The list of taboo sexualities consisted only of six, really. Frighteningly, three of those are part of my sexuality!

Casual sex was not regarded taboo, unless while in a relationship. So open relationships are not generally approved. Some kink is regarded alright, but serious full-blown SM is taboo. And, most surprisingly, intergenerational relationships were on the shortlist as well.

Great, just great: I am in an open D/s (SM-relationship) with a 26-year age gap…

Ashamed as I am to admit it, I didn’t even dare to tell them out of fear of offending someone! I was distressed by people saying that all of my relationship is taboo. Of course they were academic enough to specify that opinions on what is taboo are very varied: it depends on age, place, social group, culture. But I assume these people, my peers, were talking about their own environment, which is my environment as well!

But if ideas on what is or isn’t accepted vary that much, isn’t it much more useful to maybe use different categories? In my experience it most people do not think in terms of good and bad sex. People seem to be very open to many different sexual identities, as long as you explain it to them. The difference is not in acceptability, but in the amount of explanation needed before people accept a certain sexuality. Most people nowadays accept homosexuality, no questions asked. Some people might be unsure as to how bisexuality ‘works’. This does not mean bisexuality is taboo, it just means that at this time it may need some more explanation.

It has been my experience that people can accept all of my relationship. But it does take much explaining (I am not a golddigger, actually he is poor, I am not some sad beaten-up girl, this is actually what I like, we do have the freedom to sleep with others, that does not diminish our feelings towards each other, this is right for us), loads of explaining. And to me that is different from it not being accepted. My sexuality is just more unusual, and therefore needs more explanation.

The dichotomy of good/bad or accepted/taboo sexuality does not seem to make sense to me. It actually complicates the situation because it creates a problem that is not there, and simplifies our views on sexuality by categorising it so strictly. Sex is highly personal, is not about wrong or right, but about being able to understand one another.

Next week I’ll move to the UK, to study for a term. I’m excited, it has been almost 11 months since I took any classes, guess it will take me some time to get used to studying again. Also, I will have my first Freshers week soon. I’m curious what that will be like.. Having graduated from high school 4 years ago, I’m afraid that I might have a hard time connecting to those young Freshers I’ll share the campus with.

As a way to deal with that, I already arranged to do volunteer-work on the University. Starting Freshers week, I’ll talk to students on safe sex and alcohol and drug use. Think: handing out condoms and saying that too much drinking will get you fat. Or something, I’m not really sure yet. But I’m already looking forward to it: there’s nothing I’m talented at like talking about sex all day …

On the other hand, I already worry about missing DM.

Second thought: I don’t. I simply don’t have the time for that! So please excuse me while I pack, shop, throw a goodbye-party, arrange rent payments, exchange money, have my last workday with my former employer and have great I’ll-miss-you-and-goodbye-sex.

Last post I wondered what would happen on an evening of dance-practice with Dominant Man. Quite a lot, I can say! Halfway the evening we discussed whether it’s easier to follow someone’s lead while blindfolded. I, stubbornly,  claimed that it wouldn’t matter, because I dance with my eyes closed anyway. So he got a blindfold an put it on me… and didn’t take it off until hours later. Hot, sweaty, painful, thrilling, horny, excruciating hours later. He was right, a blindfold does matter: it puts me right into sub-mode. He cuffed my hands together, spanked me, hit me with a lot of things I don’t remember (and some of which I do: I had bruises from the cane until a week later), undressed me somewhere along the line, almost made me come. It’s all very hazy in my mind, so I’m not sure what happened and in which order, but it was great.

That man really knows how to have sex, how to dominate. I’ve had my share of good sex, but this…

After which we cuddled, kissed, cuddled en kissed some more. Last few weeks we spent dancing, swimming, talking, doing whatever fun stuff, and having extremely great bdsm-sex on a regular basis. And I fell in love. A lot, not just a fling thing… He feels the same way, it’s amazing. We’re so different yet such a good match.

So now we have a D/s (yes, my second one…) and also a relationship. Wow, what the fuck happened there? A relationship?! It really got serious in a short while. Yesterday morning I woke up next to him. Another woman on my other side, a lot of friends were staying over and three people fit easily in his huge bed. I turned around and he hugged me, still half asleep. And then it hit me: I really am going to miss him when I’m away. Miss him a lot.

Damn..

And then there still is the age-difference thing. He is 27 years older.. I’ve decided: fuck it, we’ll see. It’s great and wonderful for now, the future is another day.

So that’s what I’ve been up to, how about you?

Just like that, out of nowhere, our odd not-realy-a-relationship has changed into a D/s. Oh, please Lilith, please, tell us what a D/s is! Well, allright then. A D/s is a relationship that comes in many forms and is between an Dominant and a submissive partner. It can be mostly casual, just sex, or it can be a lifetime commitment like a marriage. Ours is mostly casual of course, although I do love him. And, most fun of all, I get to dominate FG!! It’s absolutely great, loads of fun, and so loving and beautiful!

So yes: I do hit him, tie him up, bruise him and have him sit at my feet. I do that because that’s what we both want. And besides that it’s all very cute (and hot! I just love a naked strong man with bitemarks and bruises, on his knees and with his hands cuffed behind his back.). Just this Friday he made me beautiful earrings with the keys to his handcuffs hanging from them. Isn’t that sweet? And at a BDSM-party last Saturday we got many comments on how loving and sweetly I dominate him. I’m so happy we found this, I admit slightly unorthodox, way to be together. This just really works, at least for now.

But I promised myself I will take your good advice to heart. This D/s will be all “carpe diem” and have a positive (not completely depressing-yet-sexy-fatalist) attitude. How does that sound?

And then there is always more… DM and FG have met at the party and they got along great! DM even gave me a small bondage-workshop with FG as the test-object. DM seems to be all into poly people and is very interested in dominating me. And, my god, would I love for that to happen! I’ll see him again tomorrow, wonder what will happen… (Yes, I’m getting my hopes up.. It’s just that he’s such an attractive man! Damn.)

Yesterday I spent swimming in the Rhine, waving at boats and wild horses. And after that having fantastic sex on the bathroom floor of FG’s parents house. Life’s beautiful.

I did see it coming, now I truly screwed it up. Remember Fling Guy, the guy I’ve slept with for a few months now? I knew I was falling for him, but I was truly hoping he wouldn’t fall for me. Yet, since yesterday it’s out in the open: even though we don’t want to, we are (somewhat, I’m hesitant) in love with each other. Damn!

There are a million reasons we shouldn’t be together. For instance: we’re both on the rebound, I’ll be moving to the UK in a few months, we’re both not looking for a relationship (or anything resembling monogamy of that matter). But mostly, it’s because I’m just to tough. If you’re in a relationship with me you’d better be strong, because I tend to walk all over the people I love. Isn’t that horrible?? And I know he can’t handle that (and so does he, we’ve talked about this). FG admits he probably isn’t strong enough for this, and I so don’t want to hurt him! We both know that this somewhat-relationship will end a total train wrack.

Now there are a few options on what to do now:

1: Just go on the way we have: a completely-fake not-relationship that will blow up in our faces. Plus; how long can you fake this when you’ve said you love each other?

2: I’ll try to be nice… This will work for a while, but it’ll be fake. One day I’ll explode and say all the things I should have said before. And FG will end up hurt.

3: Stop it right now. Yeah, right. Like that’s going to happen… I should, but it’s just too much fun. He is so great and special (and the sex is amazing, how could I quit?)

And then FG came with a brilliant fourth option:

4: Complete and utter train wrack. Don’t you just love fatalism in a man? His idea is: going on having sex, being friends and loving each other. And at the same time sleeping around a lot (!!), and talking about that together. It’s genius: when you aim for disaster, then horrible will feel less bad. God, I love this plan, and the sick mind that came up with it!

But please, is there a fifth option? Something we didn’t think about? Something that will make all the trainwracks go away? I’m lost, I really need some advice.

Until my Great Love broke up with me that is. Now I feel the strains of a love life like that. And now I try hard to let go, be impulsive, be irrational. Or, to be more specific: to make a complete and utter mess out of my love- and sexlife while having loads of fun.

And it turns out I have such a talent for that! Just slowly getting over my ex, I already have a “NO, we definitely do not have a relationship (but we are somewhat in love with each other, spend a lot of time together and above all have passionate sex)“-thing going on with a good friend. Lets call him Fling Guy. We are getting closer by the week, and by now absolutely nobody (besides ourselves) believes we don’t have a relationship. I don’t want this to get more serious, but he’s really great. I can’t really help myself falling for him somewhat. At least he knows I am not ready at all for a new relationship. And me going abroad to university in a few months is a great help in keeping things casual. But still: a mess.

Then there is the nice guy I met online (let’s call him Dominant Man), on a bdsm-forum. As we share the same hobbies, we met IRL twice. And he was nice enough (hmmm, I doubt it) to say that he would like to help me experience bondage if I want to. That is: to invite me to his place, have me strip semi-naked and then tie me up. So we did last night. It wasn’t bad, but he intimidates the hell out of me. Mostly because he is 47. Forty-seven, what the fuck am I thinking?! I am happy to experience this though, it felt scary and great. I am quite sure we both want to do it again.

But still: a double mess.

And then there is the bdsm-thing. As long as I’ve been having sex, I have known that I’m submissive. (Disclaimer: when I want to and with the right person). So I thought I knew I was a straight sub. But just while I explore my sub-side with DM, I get all these sadist and dominant feelings while I’m with FG… So obviously I am confused now. How did that happen? And how the fuck do you do that, be dominant? And how do I combine that with being submissive? And, and…

There you are: triple mess.

Well, at least I’m having fun.

Yes dear, I want to go to the bdsm-party with you. Yes, I’ll hit you, hurt you. Yes, I’d love that. But there is more. Way more. Here is next weekend in my mind:

Sitting at the bar, me meeting some people I’ve met last time (explaining why on earth I now have a sub-guy with me when last time I was here as a single-sub myself), you talking to someone working here whom you went to school with. You come stand next to me, and we chat. I love talking to you, you’re so smart, interesting. But after a while you will say something, something you are not honest about (I always know when you do that) because you are afraid to be honest. I grab a string of your hair, and pull you to your knees. I slap you in the face, as hard as I dare. Four times, until there is a red mark on your cheek. I smile at you, love you. Kiss you and caress your hurt face. Then slap you again. Inside I thank you for loving this, enjoying this, but I will not say it. I just kiss the red mark on your cheek.

I take you to the mirror-room. Remember last week, when you were dancing tango here with your sister? How different this night will be. I want you to think of me, of pain, whenever you are here again. We watch the whips laid out on the table here. You know as well as I do, I have no idea what I’m doing. “Which ones do you think you’ll like?” I’ll ask. The ones you choose, I will use. Much better, because now all the pain they cause will have been your own choice. Degrading, I like that.

I have you take off your shirt. We kiss, passionately, because anxiety creates more passion. I scratch my nails down your back. (I stopped biting my nails a while ago, just to do this. That is what should remind you, every time I hurt you, that I love you. Fuck, I love you.) I bite your chest and arms, hard. The bitemarks, which appear so easily on your skin, are beautiful. And deep. I leave you to yourself in a cage in this room. It is great to be able to trust you’ll enjoy yourself. Knowing you, you’ll probably strike up conversation with somebody while in that cage.

Going back to the other room, I approach the people making collars and handcuffs out of leather. I ask them if I can borrow a long piece of leather to tie someone up with. Of course they wonder why I don’t use some of the rope available. I explain that you are a vegan, and are against the use of leather. And that is why I want to tie you up with it. That works, I get a helpful smile and a string of leather. I go back and find you comfortably talking to a guy who, when I approach, steps back and keeps still. I don’t mind him watching, though I wouldn’t mind being alone with you right now. I get you out of the cage and on your feet. You hold out your hands and I tie your wrists together with the string. “You don’t mind me tying you up with leather, do you?” I ask. I can see you thinking about saying “No, I don’t at all”, but you hesitate because you don’t want to lie. I hope you hate it. Then I tie the string to a bolt in the ceiling. You can’t move anywhere, while I take the first whip in my hand.

Honestly, I have no idea whether I am going to like hitting you with these whips. I think I will, but who knows? I am sure you will like it though. I have seen you react to pain, quite a lot of pain, before. You love it. So much, that I might need to get you quiet somehow. Since there are no gags around, I take off my panties from under my skirt and stuff them in your mouth. (See, I told you I thought degrading you is hot… I was just afraid to tell you how) Then I hit you some more, seeing marks on your back I have never seen before. I know later tonight you will admire them in the mirror. I whisper in your ear, telling you how brave you are. Asking you whether it is to painful or if you can handle more, harder. You answer by nodding. I kiss you and caress your hair. Your gorgeous long hair, that I have pulled (pulled out!) so often.

After a while I untie your hands, ungag your mouth and cuddle you. I want to make you feel better after this beating, but somehow I feel guilty and need this cuddle more than you do. You take me in your arms, making me feel safe and okay. We talk a little, asking each other how we feel, and I tell you to leave your shirt off. We go back to the bar, and you order us drinks, secretly showing off the whipmarks, bitemarks and scratches on your body. The rest of the night we will simply talk and kiss. (That is, until we get home, where you will probably fuck my brains out for a hour, while giving me a fantastic orgasm with your hands. God, I love it when you do that.)

So there you are, here is what I’ve been thinking of doing to you for the last few days now. The pain, humiliation, submission, I want to make you feel all that. I hope you’ll like it. I hope some day I’ll have the guts to do it.

Especially when you know the person you’re trying to torture well, it doesn’t have to be complicated. It doesn’t even have to be obvious to bystanders. Picture me and a guy in a bar. I’m drinking hot chocolate, licking the whipped cream of my finger. He is looking at me… having a hard time with this tease. I lick of some more, stick out my tongue to him, biting my lip and licking the cream off. Then I hold out my hand, ask him if he wants some too? He sighs and takes my finger with the cream in his mouth. An expression of mixed pain and pleasure is on his face. A sadistic smile on mine.

And of course nobody who sees us knows he is a strict vegan. They don’t know he hasn’t eaten anything containing milk in over six years. They don’t know he would never eat that, because he truly believes it is wrong.

(They don’t know he can’t digest dairy anymore and will probably feel very sick after this… That last thing I didn’t know either, by the way. Stupid, I should have. Safe, sane and consensual anyone?)

Having someone putting aside their ideals for you, even momentarily, is such a turn on! Now I finally do get the point of sadism.

The reason I am writing this, is because I have only just realised what I like about my fuckbuddy. It isn’t that he is good in bed (sometimes, but most of the times he isn’t), it isn’t that he is beautiful (there is this ‘thing’ about him, but he isn’t handsome), it isn’t that I like his character (he’s nice alright, but not that inspiring). I just love his brain. He is soooo fucking smart. And coming from me, a girl who has had an intelligence-fetish for all her life, that means a lot.

This is what turns me on and fascinates me about this guy: he has hundreds of books, in at least six languages, and has read them all. He wrote his thesis on scientific philosophy in two weeks. While taking another mayor in a completely different field at the same time. He can explain all that to me. He’ll learn a language “for fun”. He has principles, but is philosopher enough to know it is not necessarily the truth.

And most of all: when he swears or talks on intimate subjects with his sister, he speaks French. Fluently. I love this because I can’t. Because it’s hard. And because it is hot to hear a guy talking about you, saying: “Nous? Nous avons coucher ensemble.”*

I can resist smart men. Really, I can. But smart men who speak French…

You want an illustration of my intelligence-fetish? Today we were talking. Some stuff on the difference between modern and postmodern views on truth, the role of exact science in that, how this can be combined with ‘living well’ and a non-linear view of history. You know, interesting stuff. The conversation fascinated me.  After a while I went to the bathroom, only to find out my panties were soaked! We hadn’t even kissed. Forget foreplay, just talk to me!

* Never mind the spelling. I suck at languages.