Hey guys, so I am moving home today for two weeks to see my family during the holidays. Finally will be moving to NYC on Jan 1. In the meantime, help me avoid feeling sad and nostalgic!
As I occasionally do, I would love to get some feedback from everyone and have an open forum! The topic: discuss one fantasy that you have that you have never made come true! Even people who play a lot have fantasies, and some never come into fruition. So whats yours?
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Moving on
Wow. I'm leaving DC tomorrow, presumably for good. Thinking back to the 18yo boy who first moved into these dorms four years ago...well its just crazy. So much has changed. I've changed. As much as I rag on it sometimes, DC has been really good to me. And I think it really was a perfect environment to be 18-22 in. I've had opportunities I couldn't have gotten anywhere else, developed relationships with all kinds of interesting people, and embarked on a real sexual journey. If I tried to capture it all in writing it would be a short novel, so I'm not going to try. I'm actually going to keep it short, and in a rather unusual twist, keep these emotions somewhat private.
I guess I just wanted to say thanks to DC and all of the people here who have made the past four years so rich and rewarding.
I guess I just wanted to say thanks to DC and all of the people here who have made the past four years so rich and rewarding.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Christmas Come Early
So as an RA, its always my responsibility to go through the rooms after everyone has left to make sure there is no damage. Most people clean up after themselves, but some students just leave a bunch of shit in the room that they didn't feel like packing. In the past I have gotten some pretty nice free stuff out of this arrangement, including dirty socks. This year though, some hot young straight guy left me these:
Nice huh? When I was cleaning out the room I locked the door behind me and got down on my hand and knees and started attacking them. Brought them back with me, and intend to hold onto them for a while. They smell fucking perfect. Merry Christmas to me.
Nice huh? When I was cleaning out the room I locked the door behind me and got down on my hand and knees and started attacking them. Brought them back with me, and intend to hold onto them for a while. They smell fucking perfect. Merry Christmas to me.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Tough enough?
I have a confession to make. It’s something that I honestly have had trouble accepting, because it flies in the face of what we glamorize in this community. It’s simple really: I’m not tough. And frankly, I have never really been tough.
Why am I confessing this? And how did I come to this conclusion? Well, I’m confessing this because hopefully by doing so I can stop trying so damn hard to make people think I’m tough. Reading through any literature on the subject of BDSM or leather; the importance of being perceived as tough and strong is ubiquitous. Toughness defines those sexual caricatures that have plagued this community for too long. We erotize tops whose wills are absolute and don't bend to meet the whims of a bottom (or anyone for that matter) and bottoms that can take any amount of pain or sexual servitude the top inflicts or demands. But guess what, I can’t take any amount of pain that a top wants to dole out. More to the point, I can barely take any of it.
Two nights ago I swung by the Eagle on my way home from Code to cruise for cock. I had been titillated all night, and I was admittedly a bit inebriated. I was only there for a min or two before I stumbled across an acquaintance of mine (read: fuck buddy). Large, hairy bearish man whose pits I had sniffed several times before (in addition to other areas). We started talking, but it was pretty direct and to the point. Within minutes we were heading back to his place (again: we had played before). At his place we talked for a bit before getting down to business. Eventually he was on top of me, pinning my arms with his massive legs and enjoying fucking my helpless face. Now this top really loved humiliating me, partially because he knew I craved it, but we had never played around much with SM. He started with my balls, tugging and smacking mostly. And he asked if I liked it, and to be fair I did to an extent. Then he started smacking my face lightly, and again asked if I liked it. I very much did.
But then both the cbt and face slapping escalated at an exponential rate, and one that I was not equipped to deal with. The cbt was a bit more reasonable, but he worked my balls pretty hard and I could tell I was reaching my limit. The face slapping was a bit ridiculous. To give you an idea of just how rapidly the intensity escalated: he slapped me four times. The first was just above a light slap on the check. The fourth ended up leaving a bruise on my eye. And when he dealt that blow I truly recoiled. I was off his cock in a second and just trying to deal with the acute and overwhelming stinging sensation that had taken over the right half of my face.
This is the part where I failed myself as a bottom. He gave me a second, but I should have asked for a minute to compose myself. He started working on my balls again. He asked if I wanted to get slapped again and I shook my head no (much to his surprise). So he made me start choosing. “Balls or face?” he kept asking. I would keep saying balls and he would hit them harder and harder (I think he may have been trying to get me to say face). It was so frustrating and overwhelming (not even ten seconds had passed since the big slap) that I started to cry. He would keep asking and I would stutter and he would ask again and tell me I would get both if I didn’t respond. And even though I should have stopped him, I didn’t. Why? Because I didn’t want to seem weak. I wanted him to think I was a tough kid who could take a lot of pain.
But you know what? I’m not. I have never been able to handle a lot of pain, and even now as I am currently exploring my own pain limits; I can only do so in a safe and established environment. We continued on with the play (much less pain eventually), and everything worked out fine. But that doesn’t change the fact that I should have had the confidence to say something when it was becoming too much for me. I mean, really, why was it so important for me to show him that I could start crying (kind of hard) and still suck his dick? And I know I’m not the only out there who feels that pressure. All of us feel it. Whether trying to meet the expectations of ourselves or our play partners, some of us will push ourselves past our own limits for the wrong reasons. Don’t get me wrong, pushing yourself past your limits CAN be a good thing, and I described a situation in which I did that in a post about clothe pins. The difference is that I pushed myself because I trusted my Sir. The experience, then, is transcendental because of the bond that is created and shared; not just because I let someone hurt me more than I could handle.
Its something that I have been doing since I first started getting tied up, and it began by not speaking up when I started to loose circulation. Particularly when we play with experienced tops, we feel compelled to prove that we’re tough enough to be worth their time and energy. But again, maybe I’m not tough enough. Ever since I was young I could never take a lot of pain, and was often prone to crying. Both of those are still relatively true today, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Maybe by being outspoken and stern about my own physical limits, I will alienate some tops (and even some snobbish bottoms). If that’s the case, good riddance! This isn’t even just about being tough. It’s about saying fuck all to the ridiculous standards of topping and bottoming that we push ourselves to meet despite the fact that they are completely unrealistic. So fuck you Mr. Benson! This boy isn’t interested.
Why am I confessing this? And how did I come to this conclusion? Well, I’m confessing this because hopefully by doing so I can stop trying so damn hard to make people think I’m tough. Reading through any literature on the subject of BDSM or leather; the importance of being perceived as tough and strong is ubiquitous. Toughness defines those sexual caricatures that have plagued this community for too long. We erotize tops whose wills are absolute and don't bend to meet the whims of a bottom (or anyone for that matter) and bottoms that can take any amount of pain or sexual servitude the top inflicts or demands. But guess what, I can’t take any amount of pain that a top wants to dole out. More to the point, I can barely take any of it.
Two nights ago I swung by the Eagle on my way home from Code to cruise for cock. I had been titillated all night, and I was admittedly a bit inebriated. I was only there for a min or two before I stumbled across an acquaintance of mine (read: fuck buddy). Large, hairy bearish man whose pits I had sniffed several times before (in addition to other areas). We started talking, but it was pretty direct and to the point. Within minutes we were heading back to his place (again: we had played before). At his place we talked for a bit before getting down to business. Eventually he was on top of me, pinning my arms with his massive legs and enjoying fucking my helpless face. Now this top really loved humiliating me, partially because he knew I craved it, but we had never played around much with SM. He started with my balls, tugging and smacking mostly. And he asked if I liked it, and to be fair I did to an extent. Then he started smacking my face lightly, and again asked if I liked it. I very much did.
But then both the cbt and face slapping escalated at an exponential rate, and one that I was not equipped to deal with. The cbt was a bit more reasonable, but he worked my balls pretty hard and I could tell I was reaching my limit. The face slapping was a bit ridiculous. To give you an idea of just how rapidly the intensity escalated: he slapped me four times. The first was just above a light slap on the check. The fourth ended up leaving a bruise on my eye. And when he dealt that blow I truly recoiled. I was off his cock in a second and just trying to deal with the acute and overwhelming stinging sensation that had taken over the right half of my face.
This is the part where I failed myself as a bottom. He gave me a second, but I should have asked for a minute to compose myself. He started working on my balls again. He asked if I wanted to get slapped again and I shook my head no (much to his surprise). So he made me start choosing. “Balls or face?” he kept asking. I would keep saying balls and he would hit them harder and harder (I think he may have been trying to get me to say face). It was so frustrating and overwhelming (not even ten seconds had passed since the big slap) that I started to cry. He would keep asking and I would stutter and he would ask again and tell me I would get both if I didn’t respond. And even though I should have stopped him, I didn’t. Why? Because I didn’t want to seem weak. I wanted him to think I was a tough kid who could take a lot of pain.
But you know what? I’m not. I have never been able to handle a lot of pain, and even now as I am currently exploring my own pain limits; I can only do so in a safe and established environment. We continued on with the play (much less pain eventually), and everything worked out fine. But that doesn’t change the fact that I should have had the confidence to say something when it was becoming too much for me. I mean, really, why was it so important for me to show him that I could start crying (kind of hard) and still suck his dick? And I know I’m not the only out there who feels that pressure. All of us feel it. Whether trying to meet the expectations of ourselves or our play partners, some of us will push ourselves past our own limits for the wrong reasons. Don’t get me wrong, pushing yourself past your limits CAN be a good thing, and I described a situation in which I did that in a post about clothe pins. The difference is that I pushed myself because I trusted my Sir. The experience, then, is transcendental because of the bond that is created and shared; not just because I let someone hurt me more than I could handle.
Its something that I have been doing since I first started getting tied up, and it began by not speaking up when I started to loose circulation. Particularly when we play with experienced tops, we feel compelled to prove that we’re tough enough to be worth their time and energy. But again, maybe I’m not tough enough. Ever since I was young I could never take a lot of pain, and was often prone to crying. Both of those are still relatively true today, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Maybe by being outspoken and stern about my own physical limits, I will alienate some tops (and even some snobbish bottoms). If that’s the case, good riddance! This isn’t even just about being tough. It’s about saying fuck all to the ridiculous standards of topping and bottoming that we push ourselves to meet despite the fact that they are completely unrealistic. So fuck you Mr. Benson! This boy isn’t interested.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Its Official!!!
Let me preface this post by saying that if I didn't think that everyone hates all caps, this entire post would be in all caps.
As of today, I have officially signed my roommate agreement and paid my deposit to my first real apartment in NYC (I am not counting my subletting experience)!!! I will finally be moving back to the city I love so much! I have known I would be moving to NYC Jan 1, 2010 one way or the other, but its nice to have locked down a place to move. I'll be living in Astoria in a GORGEOUS 2 bedroom apt with an incredibly cool singer song writer. I visited last week, and she and I really just seemed to click on a whole lot of important roommate bull shit. Not to mention, the apartment was 10x more amazing than I had thought it would be.
So thats it. I have two more weeks in Washington, DC as of today for finals and graduation. Then home for two weeks. Then I'll be starting the next chapter of my life! GAHHHH!!!
Be expecting a longer, fairly emotional post about leaving DC and moving to NYC; filled with excitement, hope, and nostalgia. For now though, I just wanted to share my exciting news.
OH! And my first leatherati post as a guest is up today! He really wanted to repost my "Being Out" post, but like many of my posts it had not been proofread or edited in any way. So if you're interested, the leatherati version has some much needed edits and rewrites.
Attached is a picture of my "Excited to be moving to NYC" face.
As of today, I have officially signed my roommate agreement and paid my deposit to my first real apartment in NYC (I am not counting my subletting experience)!!! I will finally be moving back to the city I love so much! I have known I would be moving to NYC Jan 1, 2010 one way or the other, but its nice to have locked down a place to move. I'll be living in Astoria in a GORGEOUS 2 bedroom apt with an incredibly cool singer song writer. I visited last week, and she and I really just seemed to click on a whole lot of important roommate bull shit. Not to mention, the apartment was 10x more amazing than I had thought it would be.
So thats it. I have two more weeks in Washington, DC as of today for finals and graduation. Then home for two weeks. Then I'll be starting the next chapter of my life! GAHHHH!!!
Be expecting a longer, fairly emotional post about leaving DC and moving to NYC; filled with excitement, hope, and nostalgia. For now though, I just wanted to share my exciting news.
OH! And my first leatherati post as a guest is up today! He really wanted to repost my "Being Out" post, but like many of my posts it had not been proofread or edited in any way. So if you're interested, the leatherati version has some much needed edits and rewrites.
Attached is a picture of my "Excited to be moving to NYC" face.
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