|X|C|BDSM|

Last night after browsing loads of tumblr porn, I had an epiphany. Y’know. Like you do after looking at porn. But the epiphany needs a little back story.

For…a while now, I’ve been feeling a big shift in my sexual desire. In that I’ve had relatively little of it. Sort of. I’ve had plenty of urging to orgasm, to masturbate and play with toys and look at porn. But I haven’t had a ton of desire to mesh squishy body parts with people…. Sort of. If asked, I would still say yes, I’d have sex everyday if I could. If someone brings up the idea, I’m often into it. But there’s been something about it I’ve never felt before. A sense of work. Perhaps even… boredom? (I apologize now for ellipsis abuse. Just relax and let it happen). It’s this, “been here, done that, got the t shirt, the frustration, the giggles, the orgasms, the sexy feels and happy, sweaty exertions”. I have done it in a house, I have done it with a mouse, I have done it in a box, I have done it with a fox. Boys, girls, and every flavor in between and around the two.

It’s not to say that I’ve disliked the sex. It’s been alright. Having sex with someone is a helluva lot better than doing laundry. I used to say that even bad sex was still better than none, or was still a fun way to spend an evening. But… I’m not so sure anymore.

I used to be incredibly sexual. I loved having sex with anyone I could, whenever I could. It was awesome! I’d wanted to have sex since I knew what sex was! And I was doing the thing!! It feels great! I sowed some wild oats like they were going out of style.

Sometime over the last… 5-6 months or so, that rampant desire for sexual activity changed into the aforementioned weird place of “sort of”. I’ve wondered if I was for some ungodly reason turning asexual, but I’ve pretty quickly and thoroughly rejected that. I still do like and want sex. Okay. I’m not asexual. Am I low desire? Maaaaybe… but that doesn’t seem right either. That doesn’t match up with the raging desire that swims around my head. So what the hell is going on? Lots of arousal and desire for orgasms (LOTS you guys). But I don’t actually want to have a bunch of sex. My desire for sexual activity is relatively low… Sort of. Wtf. The levels to which this has been quietly freaking me out are actually pretty impressive. I haven’t felt this intensely confused about my sexuality in a long time.

Enter the epiphany.

I’ve realized, I have zero desire for vanilla sex. It’s boring, uninteresting and pretty unappealing/ unarousing for me. I’m at a point now where I’d honestly really rather masturbate at home. I know it’s a wonderful thing that loads of people enjoy all the time and that is fucking awesome. Y’all go on with your bad selves. Hell. I might even join y’all sometimes. It’s absolutely nothing personal against anyone. Vanilla sex simply doesn’t get me going anymore.

But what I ache for, what I burn for, what consumes me? Kinky sex. Or even just kink. I need my sex rough. Pull my hair. Choke me. Slap me, spit on me. Tell me filthy stories of the fucked up things you want to do to me. Shove me around, control me, hit me, spank me. Come on me. Don’t ask. Tell. Be bigger than me, be stronger. Force down on my knees by my hair and shove your cock in my mouth. Make me beg for it. Tie me up. Tie me down. Let’s see how big a thing we can shove in my cunt. Plug my ass before we go to dinner. Make me go masturbate in the bathroom before our meal comes. Tease me. Oh dear God tease me. Deny me. Edge me. Make me come over and over and over until I can’t breathe and all I want is for you to stop. Put me in chastity, physical or mental, and control my body. Own my orgasm, own my sex, one of the biggest parts of me. Let me surrender that to you. Make me surrender that to you.

Let’s even keep our underwear on and just play instead. Give me a good scene over sex any and every day of the week. I’d rather you beat me or stick me with needles than go down on me. I’d rather lie under your feet for an hour than have you hump me. Light me on fire and terrify me. Let me kneel on the floor next to you and put my head in your lap while you pet my hair like you’d pet a cat. Electrocute me, make me squirm and twitch and giggle. Or cry. Tie my hands up, hood me, and stick me in a corner for a couple hours. Please? Can we do that instead?

Or.

Let me fuck your ass. Let me make you worship my body with your mouth, hands tied behind your back. Give me a massage for an hour. It better be good- your orgasm (or lack thereof) depends on it. Why don’t you get down on the floor and lick my feet, suck my toes? When you’ve cleaned them well enough, I’ll jack you off with them and make you lick me clean again. Let me edge you, over and over again. I want you to beg me to let you come. I probably won’t, but I want you to sincerely plead with me. I want to dress you up in women’s clothes, give you a makeover and make you look as pretty as possible. Put your cock in chastity before we go out on the town, the metal cage making you look bigger than you really are. I want to dress you up in garters and stockings and lacey, frilly panties before you go to work. I promise, you’ll think of me all day.

We can fuck, and do any or all of those above mentioned things. I don’t need all of them at once. I’m not certain I could survive all of them at once. I might literally die. Maybe from sheer ecstasy. I’d probably explode. But I need some element of kink when we’re fucking, even casually/randomly one night, or my head simply won’t be in the game. I’m going to be mentally composing grocery lists and thinking about things I can do as social events. I simply do not feel that…electrified, passionate, fiery connectedness with vanilla sex. My head’s not in the game, yes, and neither is my heart (or my vagina). It’s not bad. It’s just… a dollar cheeseburger when I really want steak. Celery sticks when I’m starving.

But kinky sex…Fuck. That is where every organ, every muscle, every cell, every fiber of my being is screaming YES THIS MORE!! I am so in the game. I am so alive. In that space, I feel that connection to my partner/s in such a way that I don’t feel anywhere else. It’s that connection that drives me. I like the look in their eyes, I like the way their breath changes when they’re about to do something. There’s a quickening, a hitch, an excitement. I like the things they say, I like the way they make me feel. I like seeing that side of them. It’s vulnerability, just sorta…Kinked. I like the intense sense of presence that comes from kink. There is no mental grocery list. There is no plotting or planning. There is simply us, and the sensations, and the noises, and the smells, and the sight (or lack thereof). I don’t feel that in regular sex. Not generally, anyway. Without connection, it’s mindless. And not in the good way.

I’ve finally realized that I have the language for the emotions I’ve been feeling, and the intense confusion. Looking on it now, it makes a lot of sense. I’ve identified kink as my sexual orientation before. This is simply an evolution of that, a deepening. I feel a little silly that I didn’t realize this sooner.

So this is a break up speech for vanilla sex.

You were good, you were fun. I enjoyed you when I was younger. But I have to leave you now. I don’t like you the way I used to. You leave me a little empty. We just don’t have anything in common anymore.

It’s not you, it’s me.