8-6 My History

It is thrilling, even a rush with the fright that sometimes comes with pushing the boundaries. Be it in writing or in some form of play. The thrill of seeing how far, how fast, how much can be crammed into a single event. Hockey is my favorite game, I grew up watching it with my grandfather and the best games, the ones that had us screaming at that old box on 4 legs near the fireplace was the times when they got into an altercation. Gloves flying off, helmets sliding across the ice as a fisticuffs moment broke out. Even better if the Rangers were beating the crap out of one of those looser Canadian teams, at least that is how it was in that house. Of course, the Rangers never lost, they were robbed by bad calls.

Fast forward to my teen years, decisions that would mold the rest of my life were the word of the day. What college did I plan to attend? What career was I looking at trying out? I remember my career counselor all but beating his head on his desk with me.  Apparently, the troublemaker student I was at the time did not have the foreseen discipline to become a doctor, a gynecologist to be exact. In retrospect that would have been a horrible choice for me, but I will skip the reasons why. I really wanted to become a writer but that was far from smart enough a career choice for someone of my skills. The thing is, I think if I had started back then I might have done quite well at it, potentially even making a name for myself. “Do not sell yourself short!” my parents’ mantra that pushed me into their mold of what they felt would be a good fit for me. During this time, I discovered girls did not give you cooties. In fact, they were quite pleasant company and there were benefits to getting especially close to some of them.

I was smitten with Kitten when I was fourteen. Her long red hair and buxom chest as she smiled with those deep blue eyes. Sigh, my first kiss and making out, first petting sessions. We never got any farther than that and we still stay in contact talking about life from time to time. My real sin was Jen, that brown haired demon in female form. We were rival high schools and both in the marching band of our respected school. We met at a competition and I was smitten with her. Romeo met his Juliette; we sealed the deal of our relationship on my sixteenth birthday when I skipped school and we started making out in a field. I was raw and new to relationships, but she was brazen and fiery, she knew what she liked and wanted without shame of expressing her desires. I got a crash course in sex and sexual fantasy. She wanted it to be rough and me to take what I wanted. Looking back there probably was some issue with her that I was unaware of, but I thought this was how all relationships worked. The next three years we were on and off again, we both dating others in the midst. Several of her female friends ended up in the back seat of my car. I felt like a big deal and I had quite a reputation of being a libertine. I was aggressive and forward, there was no edit button in my mind to mouth connection. I was fortunate that in all that insanity I never “took things too far” despite my aggressive nature.

College was a slap in the face, that pack I ran with had vanished and suddenly I was on my own. I met a sweet proper catholic girl who was always blushing at my forwardness and advances. When we got alone and I pinned her against the wall for a kiss and a feel I felt something all right. Her hand across my face. I was shocked and as much as it frustrated me, I also wanted to know what I had done wrong. That is when I learned my previous experiences were not the norm for a relationship. Of course, I was not interested in her version of a relationship. I listened and learned from her before we went our separate ways. I was soon introduced to another who was a huge influence in my world, she and I would sneak off to have fun in public places, it was a rush and I was hooked. She also introduced me to a guy who totally rocked my world like a F5 tornado in a trailer park.

I was raised men were to be with women, end of story no exceptions. Anyone who deviated from this was a pervert of the greatest order and would suffer horribly in life. He was as bold and brazen with me as I had been with Jen. The first time he took my face in his hand and pressed me against the wall for a kiss I almost collapsed. We spent that evening together and talked once he realized I had never been kissed by a man much less anything else. He was bisexual and that was fine by me, I was submissive to him and honestly in love. The next year was educational to say the least, he allowed me to express my thoughts freely and without shame or judgment. He introduced me to the wonderful world of BDSM and sexual freedom. When a situation arose that meant I would not be following the career path I originally started on he set me free. It was a tailspin spiral that sent me into chaos.

My first so called marriage was filled with secret affairs and wicked games. It was the only thing that made me feel alive and human, when that ended, I was a rogue free agent with a lust for adventure and all things pleasurable as I saw them. I lived on secrets and lies as a way of life. My second and very brief marriage was Jen 2.0 with a taste for rough and forced. We had no boundaries set, no safe words, her world was drugs alcohol and sex and mine was sex and alcohol. When I came to grips of the coming disaster, I got sober and she left. I spent years just floating about doing what I wanted but never in anything that resembled a committed relationship. My third marriage was good at first. I had hit a point I needed a break because this was not how “normal” people lived. It was good for a while, but a series of personal tragedy started ripping us apart. I missed the chaos, I needed it back to keep my sanity as I watched my wife of the time shrivel into a shell of the person she once was. I was an online flirt, perverted, shameless and found my footing in the poetry realm.

I started back on my exploration of my darker side; it was like coming up for air. Epic horror poems were rolling out as I reveled in the shock and awe they produced. That is when I ran across the mistress of angst. She was a force of nature and we ran in similar circles. A friend introduced us, and we got to talking. It was life changing to again be with someone who understood and accepted me as I was. She became my submissive and we were handfasted not long after. It was been a beautiful messy ride of an intensity I cherish, perfectly balanced chaos. We are open and poly, there are no lies, no secrets as we talk about everything.

So here I am, looking back as I am trying to make since of a upside down world. What is my next step, how will I proceed? Maybe I need to get that dark ink flowing again, after I wrote Dark Christmas several years ago it seemed to have stalled me. Maybe I need to revisit it and see what comes to mind.

That hot September afternoon

This is an adult post so if you are not 18 or older leave

That hot September afternoon, the summer held us all in its grip. The sweat running down my back as every muscle was sore and pushed almost as far as possible. The dust hung in the breezeless afternoon as we rested under the tree, sticking to our skin and turning to paste in our mouths with every breath. Work on the fence was almost complete just a few more holes to dig and posts to set before the wire could be run. A dust devil danced and twisted on the dirt road not far behind the rusty old pickup truck, we would be finished by nightfall as I forced myself to get up one more time.

Jamie just laid there watching, the brim of her old ragged baseball hat pulled down over her eyes to keep the sun out. She rocked that country girl look with her button up plaid shirt tied at the midriff and those short cut off jeans that were little more than worn out threads. She was not much help when work was involved but she sure was easy on the eyes. A couple hours later I was done as she proclaimed me the victor of the fence line, well the posts at least. The line we would run tomorrow.harvest_moon

The moon rose over the edge of the field, it was big and reddish orange. That meant it was going to be another hot day tomorrow. Another day of me working in the blistering sun and Jamie watching nearby. I took my shirt out of the cab of the truck and wiped the sweat off my face, probably smearing more dirt and anything else. I could feel her eyes on me as I walked to the back and pulled the recycled milk jug and took several long drinks of the sweet tea that was in it.

“Help me up.” She playfully said

I shot her that crazy look I was known for. I was exhausted from working and now that spoiled brat wanted me to help her off the ground.

“Your legs ain’t broken” I shot back in my southern drawl.

“I’ll make it worth your while.” She said and bit her bottom lip.

I really hated how she would play me, or at least try to. Sometimes I wondered what she would have done if I had just gotten in the truck and left her in the field. Knowing her, she would have waited till her daddy came and found her then I would have gotten in trouble. I had been working for him for several seasons now, he knew we fancied each other but do not think he realized how much. That first year I was just a high school kid for summer help, and she was running around in pigtails and braces. Now years down the road I would work because it was easier to get in shape on the farm than at the gym. Summer break was like a bootcamp to get back into shape and I had definitely felt it this year. The sun turned my skin a deep copper color, my muscles grew, and the fat melted off in the hot summer days. Jamie traded in her pig tails and braces for a ponytail and midriffs. I know she caught me more than once checking her out.

I offered her a hand and pulled her up with enough force to pull her into my arms. Her lithe frame crashed into my body as I held her. Her eyes flashed that fire of a wild crazy girl I knew was in there before she tried to look offended and play at pushing me away. I did not let go this time. This time she looked in my eyes and I could see her look softened; her push lessened as I leaned in. That first kiss was electric in that field under the tree. The first flickers of fireflies were dancing in the field, a lone coyote howled in the distance.

I picked her up and sat her on the tailgate, my lips gazed hers again. I could feel her shudder as I kissed her, when I nibbled on her earlobe, she let out a mew sound. It was a great feeling as I knew she felt the same attraction I did. Nothing was spoken as my hands ran over her body, then slowly untied her shirt. Her soft skin as my lips kissed her all over and slowly down to her shorts. I fumbled with the button on the top then used my teeth to pull the zipper down. Her scent was intoxicating as I slid the shorts down with my hands but never mover my face. That first taste of her nectar was all it took for me to need more. My tongue licked and danced, making sure I covered ever spot and listened to what made her whine the most. When I found that combination I kept going, repeating the same pattern as her back arched and her fingers locked in my hair. Her yelps and moans filled the field till she let out a series of oh god and unintelligible words. I let her calm down as she looked at me with pleading eyes.

“Wha..wha…What just happened?” she finally stammered out.

“I would guess you just and an orgasm.”

“Does it always feel like that?”

“I guess, I don’t really know. Wait you never had that before?”

She shook her head no and even in the dim light I could see her blush.

“Did you like it?”

Her head slowly shook yes, and I could see the fire growing in her eyes as I could tell she wanted more.

Before summer’s end we were like wild rabbits, in the fields, the barn loft, even the old building we found at the edge of the property line. Summer was winding down and I was getting ready to go back to school. As I left I had no idea what I had set in motion, that was the last time I saw Jamie but from what I heard she became a crazed beast.

Kink, SSC, and RACK

In the BDSM world there and many terms and acronyms tossed around, most are self-explanatory. A few are so engrained that they are used with an expectation they are understood even though many outsiders or new people have no idea what the terms really mean. I would like to briefly share my thoughts and ideas on a few of these here. I might go into more detail later but for now here are the broad strokes.

Kink is one of my favorites, at first blush it known to be a sexual thing, but what exactly is kink, or kinky? By definition kink, when applied to a person, is a quirk of character or behavior, a person’s unusual sexual preference. As clear as that sounds it is still rather vague, after all who is to say what is normal or acceptable? It is also easy to get kink and taboo confused. Taboo is something prohibited or restricted by social custom. Not all kink is taboo, and not all taboo is kink though some people would judge other people’s kink as taboo.  Yeah, it gets confusing and can often be seen in many ways, often it depends on how open minded the person is and what the standard of the society there were raised in. In my personally dating past I have had a partner who thought having the lights on was kinky, others have had varying expectations and ideas of what kink was. With so many possible variations communication is the only way to assure you are on the same page with a partner.

In my opinion you should be able to openly communicate with the person you wish to engage with. I get it, sometimes it feels odd or silly explaining what you want or feel. I can assure you it is even worse having a relationship fall apart because you both wanted the same thing but were to afraid to talk about desires. Find a way to make yourself comfortable asking for what you want, practice at the mirror, with a pillow or stuffed animal. It is not always easy to open up, there is that feeling of being exposed when asking for something desired. The fear of rejection or judgment often inhibit the ability to directly ask for what is wanted. The struggle of should we just try and make it happen and hope for the best to just go without till hopefully the partner leads the interaction in that direction. I have found it goes much smoother when you just talk about what you want and desire, then see if you both are a match. The other two options leave it open for a growing resentment and eventual dissolvement of any kind of relationship.

Next there is SSC, with stands for safe, sane and consensual. Each word sounds self-clarifying but what does it mean in the world of kink and in particular, BDSM? Safe is following an acceptable play style that is not meant to bring harm. Light and breakaway bondage, easy off blindfolds and things of that sort, it often comes with a level of trust. Sane is the implication that both parties are in their right mind. They have no issue or reservation with the planned and discussed elements of a scene and all involved are of a sober mind. Finally, there is consensual, with all parties being engaged willingly and without being coerced in some way. It sounds simple enough at first glance, but how are you sure it falls into all categories? Safe requires being educated on the scene being performed, knowing what truly is safe both physically, mentally and psychology for all involved. Past abuse and fear could come into play here, a fear of the dark would make a blindfold a poor choice in some cases. This is where open and honest communication come into play. It could happen that because of the trust level a blindfold would be acceptable despite the normal fear of the dark. The same applies with sane here, sanity in a scene is what the parties agree upon, what limits are there and the trust they will not be violated. That last flowing into the consensual part, everything being agreed to before hand without a sudden change of plan during the scene unless it is to stop the scene. There would be no badgering or pressure to do something new or different.  SSC is often considered the basis of all BDSM scenes, there should be some degree of the SSC model involved.

RACK or risk assessed consensual kink, is what I feel most represents my personal style. It requires open communication and trust, secrets or hidden feelings in this type of play can lead to harm for one or more of the people involved. Most kinky activities involve a degree of risk, from spanking that could form a bruise with a remote possibility of becoming a blood clot to edge play that if performed without properly being educated can lead to permanent injury or even death. Most scenes are not the extreme level, though there could be parts that fall into the category with varying degrees of risk. From wax play that could cause burns to breath play, blade play, bondage, each with their own levels from mild to the extreme styles of play. Most people I know would say RACK is just for the hard or heavy players and I agree for the most part. I am also consciously aware that every form of kink play has a risk, it is just knowing what the risks are. If I am thinking about performing a certain type of risky play to be aware of all that could go wrong and making sure my partner is aware as well. Education is key in RACK play to keep all parties safe.

I said will kept this brief and just touched the highlights of what I thought about each. If you would like to share your ideas or comments, I would appreciate that very much. Thank you for taking the time to stop by and read what I have to say.

Mind Racing

My mind is racing

This old body is chasing

The past’s dreams erasing

Always life is out pacing

Just trying to survive

Turn the corner to arrive

The bus just left

Everything is a second guess

Youth in the mirror

The answer is clearer

Time is a terror

Life with heavy fetter

Run boy run, grab the brass ring

Tripping in the race knees sting

Body aching as bones breaking

Nothing given everything taking

Greed brings a harsh need

Need a wind in the reed

Shrieking sound of want

Passing thoughts that haunt

Always the grave waits open

Like pacman always gulpin

One day demanding it’s token

Till then running and hoping

Broken bleeding crying needing

Fallow mind twisted and screaming

The ache inside unable to hide

The scars of a wild life of pride

Chase the wind once again

Lost in the mass to blend

Never quite able to win

Fate tosses the die again

One day dust in the wind