I am starting the journal Challenge at the current week but will try and catch up on past weeks. I have always loved this idea and I am looking forward to pushing myself to answer the tough questions and also the fun ones. This post is about distress. After reading the prompt I realized my distress comes from a different place.
When I think about distress as it relates to my sexual desires there are several different branches to this tree. When I was younger, first married at 24 years old, I was clueless about what I wanted or what turned me on. I knew that I had been with two men, one I married and had dated for eight years before we got married. We never talked about sex. Never. We never talked about what we liked, what we wanted. We never asked each other to do anything. It never occurred to me. We had sex but it was not amazing sex. That isn’t a statement of either of our abilities or willingness to pleasure each other. We didn’t know any better. We were together for 19 years before the divorce and our situation never changed. Our sex life wasn’t the reason for the divorce, but it also wasn’t a reason to stay and try and make it work. We were friends, in the same house raising our daughter. There was no passion and no focus on finding it. I don’t think there ever was passion. We loved each other, but we were fulfilling our obligations in life.
In the year and a half between my divorce and starting to date my first girlfriend, I met a man who was very verbal about his desires. He talked to me about threesomes, watching porn, and pleasure. He talked to me about toys and foreplay that was different from anything I had ever known. He was the first and last person to tie me up. I was nervous, probably drunk, and agreed to allow him to try something new. He was respectful and careful and it was wonderful. It was then that I knew I had been missing something. I started exploring a little and talking freely with him about sex. I still didn’t say everything I was thinking or ask everything I was thinking. He turned out to be a great sex partner but a bit of a jerk, so he didn’t last long. He did, however, spark something in me that I was interested and excited about.
Then I met my best friend, soon to be girlfriend, then to become my wife. I had never thought about being with a woman. I truly believe the time I spent with the guy before had opened my mind to be more accepting. She was in a relationship and we were truly just friends. I saw her relationship with her girlfriend and it was clear how incredibly normal it was. When they broke up, I supported her through the sadness and realized that same-sex relationship was exactly that. Same. Same love, same trials, same hurt, same everything. We eventually became more than friends because I realized that the only thing she didn’t have and couldn’t offer me in a relationship of the romantic type was a penis. I remember thinking then that if that became an issue, we could always buy one.
My wife was not kinky. She was very vanilla. Talk of sex made her uncomfortable. She was my first experience with a woman and was very careful and sweet about taking me through that experience. One weekend we sent away to the beach and I packed a dildo. When I mentioned it to her, she became very nervous and upset. It was clear that this wasn’t something she would ever be interested in. I threw away all the toys I had and decided that being with a woman was a branch out for me and it would be enough. Unconsciously, I suppressed all the thoughts I had and desire I had. I decided that passion would be enough. In the beginning, we had that. It wasn’t long before I realized that passion wasn’t enough, and it was sustaining. We were together for 15 years before we separated. Sex became something we just didn’t do and didn’t talk about. There were a few conversations where we talked about why we didn’t have sex anymore. (We went two years without sex before we separated). It wasn’t that we didn’t love each other. We stated reasons of a busy life, taking care fo the farm, taking care of my daughter, etc. There were a lot of valid reasons, and we accepted it as normal. The worst part is, we accepted it at all.
When I met Sir and our relationship became intimate, and I knew what he was into, it was like a dam had burst inside me. I wanted everything he had to offer. We had passion, and the kink added to that. There was suspense, pain, love, fun, laughter, open communication. I could ask whatever I wanted. I was a sponge. I read I researched, I dove in head first. I loved every minute of it. He was a great teacher. He was patient and kind and took every question I asked seriously. He explained concepts D/s, and let me know that it was whatever we wanted it to be. It was amazing and new and wonderfully exciting. We had “up against the wall” sex. We had slow purposeful play scenes where he took me to places I had never imagined. He was the first person I had never faked an orgasm for. He was the first person I had ever had a true orgasm with. With him, I found myself and I found my sensual self.
All of that was background information and a lot of information but in order for me to talk about the distress I have with my desires, I felt I needed to clarify how I got to where I am. Or was. In my research (mostly online and could be a little scary at times – I wasn’t looking in the right places – mostly porn – my bad), there were things that turned me on but they weren’t things I would want to be a part of. I got off watching gang bang porn. Threesomes, rough sex, hardcore BDSM. I had a bit of guilt around some of it because I had been raped and some of what I saw triggered memories. I was able to separate the BDSM, kinky, consensual sex from the rape but I was careful to stop when things got too rough. I always discussed everything with Sir and we talked through so much of what I thought I feared.
I had asked Sir to tie me up. I was and still, am fascinated by shabari. The colors, the wraps, the knots, the patterns. I wanted to experience that so badly. I sent him patterns I wanted to try and even sent him a “how to” for beginners. I wanted to feel the rope, biting my skin, I wanted to feel the tightness and restriction of the rope. He bought the rope, red of course. But we never tried it. It is still on my list. My other desires he tried hard to help me experience them. Clamps, paddles, crops, belts, spanking, his hand on my throat, the way he worked the pain and the gentle touches to mingle together and bring me to orgasm. That was my passion. It was the most amazing thing I had ever experienced and I wanted more. I always wanted more. In the beginning, Sir called it sub frenzy. I understood what he was thinking and he probably wasn’t wrong. It was probably that, but it was also years of my sexuality being unknown, and then when I found them, I repressed them. He opened the dam. It was a flood I could not stop.
Distress was never a part of any of that. Anything I wanted to do, I knew that Sir would take me through it slowly and carefully and would never let me go too far. Sometimes he was too careful. That was his job. I knew in my heart what I wanted. I trusted him. I think sometimes I surprised him with my interest. He use to say, “nothing is too kinky”. I loved that. My distress now comes from fearing that I will never have it again. I will never trust anyone again. My distress comes from wondering if I am going to have to repress these desires again. For how long this time? My distress comes from the worry that I am older and with age comes acceptance, but also a cautiousness that develops when you have been hurt. I was devastated when Sir left me. I am still devastated. My distress and anguish come from the fear of never feeling that again. From settling again. From repressing all those desires again.
Yes, there are options. Many people find their soul mates late in life. At 54 I certainly don’t think I’m over the hill ready to give up on sex completely. It is the kink I fear I will never have again. Plenty of offers through fetlife but well, that’s a post for another day.
Thinking about my kinks I don’t feel distressed from what I like, what I want, what I haven’t had but want to experience. I think (so far) I have separated what I want to experience from the slightly disturbing but still, turns me on. I feel distressed from thinking the kinks I do enjoy and want to experience are gone forever. It distresses me. It terrifies me. It paralyzes me.