I’ve been avoiding writing here. The reason is probably one you thought you’d never hear from me. I thought so too. But I can’t just not tell you this. And nothing that’s happened since makes any sense, if you don’t know this.
Let me preface this by saying I had a work gig in another city and after the sweating and lifting (Yeah, right. More like talking and more talking.) it was a free booze buffet all the way through. Everyone was feeling pretty giddy, and I got a chance to meet some new collagues in a mellow atmosphere and hung out with one I already knew. But I didn’t know all about him. We met him and his wife a year back visiting the same city with Wonderboy. Mister M, for his moustache, is very outgoing and fun and was very easy to spend time with.
When he greeted me at the party, I noticed how luscious his lips were. I hadn’t noticed that before. He seemed to know everybody so I tagged along with him drinking some wine and meeting new people. I had my own group, but I left the party with him to go see another one. Totally innocently, by the way.
(Is this as obvious as it seems in retrospect? I really hope it wasn’t for all involved.)
Somehow, somewhere in our conversation BDSM came up. I really honestly have no idea, how that happened. I think we were talking about literature first. So, he very nonchalantly says that he and his wife used to go to play parties and he was even once propositioned by a submissive guy, but declined the spanking, because frankly, I think, he didn’t see much point in it without the sex. This is just my interpretation by the way. When I asked, why he didn’t do it, (like any good girl would) he just answered that then he would’ve come to our house. I also might have added that the though was incredibly hot. Honestly, I can understand his hesitation. It’s easy to get along with everyone on the blogs, but let a random submissive guy in my home, let alone for something I’ve never done with someone else than my partner? It’s tricky.
I wanted to go dancing so he took me. On the way we dropped by a bar and I accidently also met this guy who draws dark d/s type fantasies for a living. I was like, woah, what’s happening? Has this been here all along, and I’m just now being initiated? It all started to unravel after the umpteenth drink, on the counter, when he asked me, finally, so are you into that stuff, too?
Only to get off, I answered and he coughed his beer for a while there. I’m not really into suddleties, especially when I’m talking about sex. Drunk. With a hot, slightly older dom type guy, who is really nice to me and holds my purse. What are the odds that this nice, academic, funny, art loving man, an acquaintance of mine, would be into d/s? Especially the d part. One in a zillion?
I had been wondering about the chemistry between us. It hadn’t been there the last time we met, but somehow from the moment we met that night it was obvious for both of us. The attraction. And finally, in the deepest corner of the dance floor, it became clear. It was the d/s dynamic we crave for. Last time we met I wasn’t ready to be open about it. I couldn’t even see it in myself, let alone someone else. Now I am.
We danced, and if it wasn’t actually shameless, it’s not something I’d want on Youtube. Most of the time we were surrounded by collagues, so it wasn’t that seedy, but the dancing itself was. Pretty. Fucking. Disturbing. It was so much fun, I don’t remember when was the last time I let loose like that. Old twist followed by a waltz followed by Beyoncé meets Britney followed by old tango. I’m pretty sure my hair touched the floor more than once. I’m also pretty sure my dress was up over my butt more than once. I’m so relieved that I had a black petticoat under, like a good old granny, and didn’t show anything that spectacular to all my dancing friends.
Why I dind’t back the fuck off, you ask? Why I didn’t say, come on, I’m married?
Well. The thing is. We were only dancing. This has happened to me before. I’m pretty insatiable on the dance floor. But it isn’t sexual for me. Whatever happens on the dance floor is just dancing, however sexy it might look from the outside. I wasn’t turned on, so it didn’t register as cheating to me. But of course I thought about it. Especially since he suddenly turned me around, grabbed both my arms from behind and… um… you know. Held me in bare hand bondage for a pretty rough dance move. I still have some small marks on my arms, where he held me.
And the only thing I wanted… was for him to hit me.
I even drunkenly propositioned it to him, but he either didn’t understand or didn’t want to. When we left the night club, together, there was this one single collague, who was trying to score from the people leaving the place. He had seen us dancing and as we stood there talking about his luck with women, he started egging us on to kiss.
Come on, kiss. You know you want to. Just kiss. Kiss, kiss, kiss!
It was like being in a playground. Like we had to do it to spite him or something.
I did want to kiss him. At that point the desire was palpable. I not only wanted to kiss him, I wanted to own him, or to be owned. My drunken libido was all about submission. He caressed a trail hair from my face and then caressed my cheek, and it felt oddly familiar. There has been more than one older man in my time, who I’ve felt compelled to take a leap of faith with, although M is only 9 years my senior. He was so gentle, looked at me like I had something he’d lost. I knew the feeling, deep in my gut I felt it. Sorrow. Obliged to lift his sorrow.
Am I forever trying to win my father’s affection? Am I testing my worth over and over again on men, who are older, who have power, so it would mean something? What would it mean? The desire is so distinct from the one I feel for Wonderboy, I have to question it. Why is it always like this? What am I trying to prove? I didn’t catch these thoughts then and there, but later on examining my feelings. Examining the childish way of my feelings, the obsessiveness, the feel of the hunt.
He smiled, laughed a little laugh and pulled me to him from my waist. He might have let out an audible okay, then or let me show you or something, I’m not sure. His smile was a grin, an awaiting grin. Our lips almost touched. There was a moment of silence, searching something. And then I lowered my head.
I couldn’t do it.
I didn’t want to kiss him. I wanted something else. Something i didn’t know about myself. Because I could see it so clearly that I’d been in this same situation for a thousand times. And never pulled back. Never thought about what I actually wanted. Now I did, and so did he.
I said to the guy watching us closely Oh, boy, you’re really bad.
You wanted to kiss him, he answered.
Yeah, I did, I answered.
But what I wanted more was not to. The urge was easily overcome, when I wasn’t thinking about, how it was supposed to go. When I didn’t actually consider his feelings at all. Just mine.
He then walked me to my hotel and on the way he talked about how they’d discussed polygamy, but his wife wasn’t okay with the idea, even though it turned them both on. We talked about homosexuality, desiring trans people and wanting things you shouldn’t. This is where I finally confessed that I’d actually only wanted for him to hit me.
He was surprised and asked Is that what you’re into?
And do you know what I answered?
If I ask for it.
This had been a night of enlightment. I said goodbye to him with a promise that if our spouses change their minds, we can discuss spanking in the improbable future. I really felt no regret. I felt joyous. I’d done it. I’d searched myself for the answer and I’d stood by it. I didn’t want sex. I wanted d/s play, unattached from sex altogether. I thought it was a part of expressing our love. I thought it was only a part of sex. Seems I was wrong. Seems it is something I crave on its own, too. Like hamburgers and red wine. No emotional attachment necessary. Only the right configuration in a partner.
Seems it’s something I crave on its own.
This is a big change. One I have to think about carefully. What does it mean?
It’s scary. It changes everything. I have no shield, no love that I can trust to keep me away from trouble. But I have something else now. Self-knowledge.
An hour ago Wonderboy was lying on top of me, kissing me. His head lolled between my breasts and I caressed his face and back.
How would you feel, if someone else would spank me? I asked of him.
He smiled. I don’t know, he mused. And then we kissed.