That’s How These Things Happen…

I always thought kinks, fetishes, or new sexual interests were something concretely formed early in life. Exposed to fetish at an young age (on accident by my own discovery, being that I was curious child who read a lot), I sorted out on my own that the dominant/submissive roles were simply something that one had from sexual awakening. This thinking was, I thought, confirmed, when I hit puberty and realized my interest was much less in the boys my own age and much more in their fathers. After all, the fathers seemed very well in control, some of them were teachers who easily handled a classroom of adults without fear. These things (and the submissive side they brought out) appealed to me and, with my fascination for hands, I thought I had my kinks well sorted.

Then, one day, my boyfriend expressed his interest in me wearing a strap on.

Well, that sounded good. Hot, even. The more I thought about it, even the dangerous thrill I got from thinking about him sucking my ‘cock’, I quickly and easily tucked it away into my list of interests.

He brought up the idea of me dominating him, albeit perhaps more subtly than one would think. I was game, though a little nervous.

Then, we got into a discussion about me wearing his boxers and how sexy he found it. He laughed, asking if I’d feel the same way about him wearing some of my underwear. I started to laugh too, amused at the image, until I thought about it a little more. He has great legs, and how good would he look with my underwear pooled around his ankles while I suck him off? Well, that one got tucked away into the proverbial filing cabinet too.

Much to my surprise the kinks and interests have continued to pile up. We talk through them as best we can, working the delicate lines of trust and control, gender and play, exploring our fantasies and having a blast while doing so.

I wonder, sometimes, how we’re going to discuss kinks with our children (when the come, and when they’re old enough to have that level of a sexual talk). Until then, I think the best thing is to keep talking and keep having fun. Practice make perfect, and practice, I’ve found, makes more kinks.

Piecemeal Sex Ed

When I was younger, it was all over the news that a local woman had been tied to a tree, raped, and murdered. I asked my mother what rape was, and I don’t remember what her answer was – just that I wasn’t satisfied with it, and went and looked it up in the dictionary, like they had trained me to do with every other word I didn’t know the meaning of. It wasn’t in my children’s dictionary, but it was in the big red regular one. As were words like sodomy and masturbation. The definitions of which intrigued and excited me – they didn’t sound bad or scary at all, so what was the big deal?

I couldn’t have been even ten, and for a long time, I had known that rubbing parts of my body felt very, very good. Masturbating has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember.

Then, when I was twelve, a girl I knew asked me if I fingered myself. What? No…why would I do that? Wait…guys? YOUR DAD??? She had explained that her dad taught her how to do it, and it was how men could tell if a girl was ready to have sex. I knew I wasn’t, so I didn’t pay her much mind. That year, I’d been molested, and it proved to be the match that set many other issues on fire.

After that, everything came from the internet. Freshman year of high school, I had lots of internet access. Netscape was awful, but it helped me find much more about sodomy than the dictionary ever did. And I learned that all my rape fantasies were okay, and not a sign of something wrong with me – even if my teenage self, with the complete lack of self-esteem, had rationalized them by thinking “Well, that’s the only way someone will ever want to have sex with ME.”

I never got the birds and the bees talk. All my knowledge came in the form of books, abuse, and zeros and ones through the tubes. I have no idea how I’ll educate my kids…but educate them, I will. I’ve always been good at doing well, with or without a plan.