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.

7-30 The world we know

A thimbleful of madness mixed with the dregs of life, such a bitter wine

No such elegance to behold in this disheveled existence in time

Know no simple task has been given for the forgotten and downtrodden

Civility long ago forged now a memory in the mist dead and rotten

Time as these see goodness poisoned like an apple injected with poison

Greed and lust flow free and flesh is the only commodity within reason

Reason, oh it is unreasonable to look for it here, in the valley of filth

Climb and desecrate the dreams once held as pure, give in to wealth

Little else matters in this putrid festering realm, sell your body and mind

Tendrils sliding along the edges waiting to pluck dreams left behind

No taboo so vile it is not be dreamt, the dream a growing haunting need

Slithers in the bed of the dreamer it latches in place of dreams now dead

Fallow field of a broken mind, plowed by the vile broken creatures left behind

Seeds of lust, greed and desire tilled deep sprout into a thick choking vine

The tempting fruit that hangs just past the tips of starving lips, so inviting

Look but do not touch, touch but do not taste, taste but do not enjoy imbibing

If it were some sickly pallor it would not have such appeal to lure

Monsters the masses cry out but not one amongst them is pure

Rotten to the core as their cry for punishment of the one who tasted desire

A scapegoat now shackled and brought to the center for a symbolic pyre

The masses lusty cries for blood to be spilt ascending to a fevered pitch

Each chanter harboring personal desire that slithers yet is held in check

Rage for the one who dared to imbibe and enjoy, even become intoxicated

Rules they scream as the shackles hold them back, their venom placated

Morality mingles with mortality stones fly in a self-loathing sea of humanity

Found guilty by the corrupt the scapegoat now bludgeoned at their need

At the reading of the charged, the exposing of the crime to live outside rules

A seed falls and takes hold in the soft fertile soil of another in its youth

Walking home the seed is watered as spying eyes see a pleasing thing

Will this vine take hold and grow or be a hidden withered seedling?

Never Surrender

I am pleased there is a pride month, that is wonderful and amazing. Yesterday I watched the Queen Adam Lambert Story. It really hit home as they talked about Freddie and thought it was not the main point it reminded me of the struggles the LGBT community has and, in many places, still goes through. The things we have endured to be able to publicly come together have been bittersweet victories. The lives lost and destroyed along the way were crushing soul felt blows. Safety was in our hands as we wore whistles or sound making devices just in case some group of “gay bashers” showed up and targeted us. We had to always be on our guard, careful who we told and knew we were bi or gay. It’s the 90’s in the land of BBQ, rock-in-roll and river side fun. The hand full of openly gay clubs were shut down by either police raids for acts of lude behavior or acts of violence that drove patrons away. Firebombs burned a few to the ground and parking lot beatings were not uncommon, after all we were “asking for it” by expressing our desire to openly be who we were.

Most everyone in the community was scared back then, the few that were out and open were always in danger. It was the early days of don’t ask, don’t tell for the military, a huge victory since before that anyone caught engaging in any form of homosexual behavior was kicked out of the service. Back then we did not have the LGBT movement, no laws remotely protecting us against discrimination. For those who reported being assaulted it often meant being branded or targeted. What we now call hate crimes were joked about, the victim often the “punch line” to be made fun of. That what they deserve for being deviants. Gays, bisexuals and Transgender people were grouped in with rapists and pedophiles, all equally sexually deviant according to the general public view at the time.

Back then, I was one of the loud and proud, with my multi-colored rat tail and bright colored underwear under white scrubs. I did not care what people thought and said about me behind my back, I dared them to say it too my face. Flamboyant and ostentatious were often used to describe me, I had an amazing primary male lover in my life and a couple female lovers too. It was a rolling party and the world was my oyster. I was bisexual and proud, open minded and in an open relationship; I was living the dream. Things changed and the dream turned to a nightmare, the jarring cold reality of life slapped me in the face as that relationship ended abruptly. Still loud and proud I looked for places to meet more like myself. Straight bars were good if I was looking for a woman, scoping guys was dangerous there. Gay bars, well that goes without saying except I was still too naive or stupid to hide the fact I was bi, but that is a different story for a different time.

The days of the internet had just started. Chat rooms were coming around and we had a place for anonymity and freedom. Finally, the freedom to talk about what we felt and our personal experiences. Ultimately, a place we could meet and talk about things that we wanted, there was an energy to it, a beginning of a movement. I don’t really remember when I first heard the term LGBT but it had arrived. It was still a turbulent time for anyone in the LGBT community. There were some people trying to find out who the gay or bi people were in the chat rooms. There were a few who would pose as gay or bi, “befriending” people and offering to get together for drinks. It was the new age and style of “gay bashing” as several were people were meeting up hoping to connect with an online “friend” only to be beaten or killed just for being who they were.

I had gone underground, or back in the closet, whatever you wish to call it. I had got married and had a couple kids and played the good American strait male. Not bashing but just a family man in a deep backwards southern town. I felt shame, not for being bi but for running away, I felt I had too much to lose to be engaged in the LGBT movement. It was not till two decades and two failed marriages later that I had another relationship that rekindled my bi side. I had met another like me, coy comments and double meaning phrases were passed between us before on night we found ourselves in a position we were able to take a chance and talk about the tension between us. I could say it was like coming up for air, but really it was like waking up again. Things I held back were finally able to be revisited and openly talked about. I rediscovered the LGBT community in my local area, it took a while for me to make any real connection and I do not fault them. There still are some people that want to hurt us for being open about our sexuality.

Looking back, I have great respect for those who stayed the course and kept in the fight. From Freddie who was center stage, my best friend who was able to be married in Washington DC several years ago to his wonderful partner, to the ones that attend the Pride Parades in whatever city they go to. I still stand by the thinking you do life your way and I will do it my way. I stand with pride alongside my LGBT family as we fight for our rights to be free to live without fear. I have found my voice again and am a loud and proud bi male who will never back down or surrender.

Check out who else is sharing for this #wickedwednesday

”Wicked

I think

This week’s topic is feminism, I feel like the least qualified to speak to this issue. I can say so many forms of it have been presented that is gets a bit dizzying after a while. Do I think women should vote and have the same say as men? Yes, I do. Do I think women should be paid the same as men for the same job? Definitely they should be. Do I think just because a company has reached a certain level, they should be mandates to have a woman doing a particular job? No, I do not.

I might be old fashioned, behind the times or some other team for us dinosaurs still walking. I think if a job requires a certain level of mental, physical or emotional strength it should be given to the person that is most able to do it efficiently and effectively. I believe in blind merit testing, not race, gender or orientation being allowed to influence to outcome. Does that person possess the skills, capability or strength to fill the job requirements, as they were originally written? This whole lowering the standards to fulfill some gender quota like has happened in the military is an injustice to the people that came before, especially the women. Those women that went before and earned it with their sweat, blood, tears and sometimes their life.

I will keep this brief. I am aware there are more issues at play, many more topics that feminism covers but as I said, I feel I am the least qualified to speak on this topic Women should have the right to vote. Women should have the right to work alongside men without harassment. Women should be able to do any job they are qualified for. Women should have access to the same level of medical treatment as men do. When it is all said and done, women should be able to have the same equality as men. It is past time for that to become a reality.

”Wicked
 

I am Disgusted

I am disgusted, enraged, revolted and otherwise just outright ashamed at the recent events in the kink blogging community. I will not be naming names or calling people out, I am seething, waiting for the childish hateful attacks to stop. If someone’s feeling or ego are so fragile they shatter like glass over a post that they took in a way so few have, then maybe they might want to look closer at their own self and do some soul searching. I am all for supporting friends and acquaintances but not at the cost of being divisive in our community that is already under heavy scrutiny and disdain from much of society.

These recent activities I have witnessed seem more like a pack of coyotes trying to take down prey rather than an honest mistake or blatant attack on the person or group that claims to have been wronged. To claim that someone apology was disingenuine or just for show will never allow them to ever be able to make amends. It is a militant mindset that disavow someone’s apology while constantly escalating till only their opinion is being touted loud and clear as if it is the only correct view.

It is disheartening to watch as bloggers that have supported and worked together for years now take sides. Suddenly there are lines in the sand, people that we are not supposed to talk or associate with. What happened to my kink is my kink and I can support others even if it is not my thing? Together we are a powerful force to be reckoned with, divided there will be infighting till only ashes of a once thriving community existed. As kink bloggers will we allow this to happen? I know tensions are high with all that is going on in the world, but people wake up, put aside the petty differences and allow an apology to be accepted. I consider those who will not accept an apology as the aggressor and danger to the community. The person/s trying to cause the fractures are a plague and the covid-19 of the blogging world.

For now, I will continue to blog what I feel like, write what I want to write. Participate where I enjoy participating and share what I feel like sharing. It is ok if you do not agree with me. There is a reason Baskin Robbins had 42 flavors, because we are all individuals and our likes vary. I will encourage everyone to stop and think how they would feel if suddenly they were under the same level of attack. Just be you, accept we are all different. Education is fine and disagreements will happen, but we are part of a big, fun great and often dysfunctional family. It’s time to stop bashing and start building one another up.

Life’s Pause

This week the topic was pause and I thought it was quite fitting for my life today. By definition a pause is a temporary stop in action or speech.

I hope it is just temporary, after all this was defiantly not on the list of how things were supposed to go. Without going into details on what has transpired it suffices to say interests have been shuffled around. Activities and events once participated in currently have been put on hold. It is no one’s fault, there is no blame to be placed. It is just life and the most insane timing in a series of events that has set every part of our world back on its heels.  It was not just us either, I was hearing story after story amongst our blogging friends, some so catastrophic I wondered how they were holding it together in the waves of chaos.

For everything there is supposed to be a season and a reason, or so that is what is said. Honestly I do care to know the reason, I just want the season to be over, for us to get back to the life we had and enjoyed. I know the reality, so much has happened and changed returning to how things were is impossible. Alas it is still human nature to look back to what we were comfortable with and wish life was like it was. Life is about change for sure, sometimes it seems that only through pain and destruction will we accept the changes. It is forced upon us as we fight tooth and nail till we are exhausted and succumb to how things are.

There is a personal struggle as well for me, two sides always battling, always at odds when facing issues. Do I go into military mode and scream damage control? Toss the broken parts out and attempt to cobble some facsimile of what used to work? Replace damaged items with new once we have weathered the storm and reached a safe port?  Next to expect the repairs to to make everything good as new, it seems preposterous and idea that things would go on the same. I seriously doubt this would work because then it ignores the history and scars that have shaped us. Honestly it has felt more like a siege for a couple years. Flaming boulders being lobbed over the walls of our inner circle. Outside forces we couldn’t control or predict having an extreme impact in our lives. Now that is more like it, the debris and burned walls that has been left behind. The concerns, fears, real emotional and physical pain that ripped through our world. It still hasn’t ended but it has lessened some, it went from external to internal. Nothing will ever be quite the same, I would be naive to ever think that, rather now it is a time for rebuilding, reshaping, remodeling. This is the part of life that we can use it to make us better and stronger.

I know, right now you’re thinking damn Raven, this isn’t sexy, this isn’t even fun stuff. No it is not, but it is honest life in all its raw reality.  In the depths of it all it has caused, or at least I have allowed myself, to draw on the deepest darkest places of my mind and soul for what has been a series of mental distractions. I hadn’t stopped writing, but rather I had stopped sharing. Why? Because it has been down abysmal dark lines that had become a twisted comfort. To know that could be a level of pain and horror deeper. That is where my muse has been digging, churning and bringing up depraved and what most would call vile and degenerate thoughts. I have wrestled with the thoughts if I should even share these stories. It would most assuredly make many people uncomfortable, trigger others, excite and thrill and unknown part of my readers. It would be a trip down a dark branch of the rabbit trails my mind runs along, where fear, chaos, torment and pain live. The predators and prey come alive, the bad guys win, there are no heroes, and no one saves the day. I had toyed with writing dark erotic/sex based horror in the past, but as event from the outer world unfolded the ideas that fueled the horror became an obsession and a release.

So I’ll just wrap up this long winded woe is me post with saying this, I started this blog unsure of where I was planning of taking it, what I was going to do with it. As life changes so do we and our view of others. I think it is time to let the colors fly and share what has become my obsession for some time. Enjoy, or not, that is your choice. I really hope in part it makes people feel and think, like any other good author would. After a pause for the past few years, it is time to come out of the corner once again.

Wicked Wednesday... a place to be wickedly sexy or sexily wicked