A Revelation About My Sexual Inclinations

I think introspection and self examination are valuable things.  I especially appreciate moments when I figure something new out about myself, because I am always trying to understand who I am and what I want in life.  For a number of reasons I am critical of myself and have difficulty excepting all the parts of myself.  It puts me in difficult mental places sometimes.  Ironically, the most outwardly controversial part of me, my non-mainstream sexual tastes, inclinations and activities, are the parts of me that I am most cool with.  Humans are strange creatures.

The other day I was reading a blog that I have recently discovered:  and this particular entry got me thinking.  It was a mention of people in the BDSM lifestyle often working through some issue in their past that got me thinking.  Now that concept is nothing new to me, but reading that in that context led me to think about my interest in BDSM and my sexuality in general and what it means about me.

Regular readers will know that I am full fledged bisexual with a wide and kinky range of interest and taste.  I particularly like BDSM although I haven’t been able to explore it with others as much as I’d like to.  Anyway, I find that over the last two years or so more and more of my fantasies, the ones that get me really hard and the ones that I masturbate to most often involve BDSM, particularly me being a submissive who is sexually used by a group of men.  Now don’t get me wrong, I have lots of other fantasies, and plenty that involve women, but the man on man bondage is what really gets me hard and where my fantasies get most vivid and visceral.

I don’t think the man part is particularly significant because I think that’s my reality based mind kicking in.  It’s a LOT easier to find men to have kinky play with than women first of all, at least in my life anyway.  And in my experience the level of passion and dominance I’m fantasizing about I’ve only seen with men.

The thing that was the revelation for me is the submission.  Again, regular readers will know that I am very into being a sexual submissive, at least with my man to man experiences, and that I enjoy it quite a bit.  I haven’t really understood it, but I enjoy it and didn’t think too much about it.  I’m not ashamed of it, although if I think about it I can get a little self conscious about it.  After all it isn’t what men are supposed to do, and I am not submissive in the rest of my personality…I don’t want people to think that I am a pansy of a man just because I like to give up control of myself to someone else for a little torture and humiliation and abuse from time to time.

Back to the revelation…It struck me that my hunger for submission really is an issue that I am trying to work through from my own childhood.  I had parents who were emotionally checked out.  One a clinically depressed hoarder and the other somewhere on the Autism spectrum.  I had a brother also on the spectrum along with being a hoarder too with other issues of his own.  The result was that I didn’t get a whole lot of attention or support or much growing up.  I also had virtually no rules other than that I couldn’t do drugs or drink.  In spite of that I was a very well behaved child who created his own boundaries and his own structure as a method of survival.

Now I am an adult in a safe and caring environment but I struggle on a daily basis with my boundaries, with opening up to people, with accepting love, and a few other odds and ends of hang ups.  I have realized now that my interest in submission is a hunger for boundaries, and hunger for someone to take ownership of me and to care for and protect me.  As children (and me as an adult) we don’t like rules and we rebel against them.  Even though we rebel against them they provide us (at least implicitly) with structure, boundaries and the idea that someone cares about us enough to establish parameters for our lives.

My subconscious brain conflates the submission to someone else with the establishing of those boundaries.  Further, in my fantasies the person who I submit to always does the things that I want to have done, showing that in the fantasy at least, that they really know me, or somehow understand me in a deep and visceral way.  They are really giving me what I want and hunger for without me having to ask for it.  And in submission, either in fantasy or reality, I am opening myself up and making myself physically vulnerable in a way that I almost never do in the rest of my life.  I crave that openness and people who will take my vulnerability and treat it gently and with love.  I don’t trust almost anyone with my heart and soul, but I will trust them with my body as the closest I can get to opening up.

It explains a lot to me, and makes a lot of sense…as much as this sort of thing can make sense.  Now the question is what can I do with this information in my regular life and my sexual life?  I know for one that I can stop wondering about why I like submission, and give myself permission to enjoy it.  I can feel comfortable in the knowledge that I no longer feel any guilt or shame in submission because I know it doesn’t come from a place of flaw or male weakness in my soul or character, but from a hole that I am trying to fill.  It also gives me an opportunity to see if I can fill that hole in my regular life and thus bring some peace to my soul and some contentment to my existence.

Is Kink Genetic?

The other day I had a conversation (entirely NON sexual) with my children that brought this question to mind.  My kids are under ten, and thankfully are still very innocent about anything sexual.  The other day we were having a conversation about if you could be anything, what or who would you be.  My son’s answer was that he’d like to be a girl.  When I asked him why, his chief reason was “their choice of clothes.”  This wasn’t the first time that I’d had a clue that my son is really enamored with women’s things or clothing.  He has an affinity for my wife’s things, and even some of his sisters.  While it is entirely normal and natural for kids to experiment a little and be curious, I have a feeling this goes a little beyond that…mostly because I recognize it from my own behavior.  Now certainly it could just be a phase, but I’ve always had a little hunch that my son was just a little “different” from the average.  Could he be a future crossdresser?

Of course there is me, who is kinky, and wild and adventurous.  If you read this blog, I don’t need to explain that to you.

But then there is the curious case of my father… Like any red blooded American before the age of the internet, my dad kept a small, well loved (by me anyway) porn collection.  It was classic vintage 70’s and early 80’s porn, nothing weird or kinky.  But then there was my dad’s other “hobbies.”  I “discovered” my anus in highschool during my super horny teenage years.  In those days I found any number of inventive ways to jerk off and to stimulate my body and senses.  I stumbled into crossdressing myself in this period, and that lead to anal play…because I wanted to be in the role of a woman, including getting fucked.  I discovered in my dad’s room a slender plastic, phallic shaped object that was perfect for anal play.  I found out a little later that it was a hemorrhoid cream applicator (I know, kinda gross) except my dad never did, and still doesn’t have homorrhoids.  I never caught him using it, but I am virtually certain that he used it for the same sort of anal stimulation that I did…don’t worry gentle reader, I cleaned it thoroughly before and after use.

But then there was my dad’s real hobby.  I don’t know if he had a diaper thing, or an enema thing.  I’ve never asked…lol  Like a lot of dads, my dad would spend a lot of time in the garage, his man cave.  In my teen years I explored his garage, and found along with porn, some condoms and lube.  My dad was in a sexless marriage, but he wasn’t a guy who had the initiative to go find anybody else to have sex with (at least as far as I knew).  But then, there were also two hot water bottles, complete with the hoses to administer enemas…and then there were the diapers.  He kept them stashed in the garage, and after I discovered them, I noticed that I could hear him crinkle when he walked, because he was wearing the diapers, a LOT.  He was constantly drinking water when he wore them…I don’t know exactly what he was doing, but it was kinky.

Again, not to gross you all out, but I experimented with enemas, and with the adult diapers, more out of horny curiosity than anything else.  I have to imagine that he was playing some of the very same games.

So, is it just coincidence that three men in the same families have, or potentially have a kinky streak, or is it something in the genes?  How many of you folks out there think or know that your parents or other family members are also kinky bastards?

Tired of the Deception

As anyone who reads my blog knows I live in a world of deception and lies.  I am a married man who has carried on a multi-year affair with the same woman.  Beyond that I have had sex with numerous people, men and women, who weren’t either of those two women.  Beyond that I have told many lies at different times and different situations.  In spite of that, when I am not lying I am brutally honest to a fault, which is a weird dichotomy in me.

I learned to lie, and to have two selves growing up in a crappy house and a crappy family, living in fear of being taken away by the state at any moment if the authorities found out about how we lived.  I grew up pretending to be something at school that I wasn’t in order to mask the reality at home.  There was no love or support to be found at home, so to keep from going crazy I lied to myself there to act as though things were alright when they weren’t.  Those lies lead me to be my own best friend, trust no one, and tell no one the real truth.

As an adult now my world is much better and more stable.  I have a good job, make solid money, and my house is happy and healthy (at least on the face of it).  I have been through therapy and counseling, and a lot of living, and through that I am more honest than ever, and more one person/personality than ever before, but still honesty doesn’t come easy to me when I feel compelled to lie.  I have one friend in the world who knows all the different components of me, but even she doesn’t know much of my past or back story, only because we have never had the occasion to speak on it.  With her I am completely honest, and that is an amazing treat.  With Amy I am totally honest about everything, except my sexual exploits.  My relationship with her is amazing, and affirming, and really keeps me going through all the daily madness.  But still I can’t feel that I can be entirely honest with her.  Still I have myself for comfort and little else.

I would love to be open with the world, and be free to be who I am, whatever that is.  But it often feels that I have so little in the category of friend and family that I don’t dare risk losing those people for fear I’ll never find others.  I don’t dare risk figuring out who I am for fear that no one will love me, or care for me.  It is easier to subvert and to be the character I broadcast than to take the risk and find out who I really am, and live that life.  Most of the time I am ok with the sacrifice and the living multiple lives, and sometimes I’m not.

In case you’re wondering, this really isn’t a sexuality thing as far as wrestling with being gay or anything like that.  I’m bisexual, and I am totally ok with that personally.  I don’t know that any of my friends and family would be, but I am ok with that.  It’s bigger than that.  I don’t know who I’d be other than the guy that I am now, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to purge the duality that exists within me.  Sometimes I feel closer to that truth than ever, but then other times I realize how far from it I am, and it comes back with a crushing weight.  

    Anyway, if you’ve read this far, thanks for taking the time to do so.  This blog really started out for me as a place to vent my inner thoughts, journal or diary style.  It’s often been a sexual kiss and tell, or a relationship vent, but whatever it is it is my story and I hope you find it interesting in some way.