Back in December, my primary partner asked me what I would like for my birthday (in January). I’m pretty shameless about buying myself whatever toys catch my eye, so I always struggle with answering these kinds of questions. I laughing said something about how “a drug-fueled fuck fest is the gift that keeps on giving, and giving, and giving”. And promptly forgot all about it.

On the weekend of my birthday, the aforementioned girlfriend and I traveled to central Oregon to traipse about in the snow, and had a perfectly lovely time. As we prepared for the return trip on Sunday (the anniversary of my birth), I began to get some small hints that something was up. She said small things like, “I’d like to get home by the early afternoon” without offering any reason, and “Let’s not stop to eat there on the way home; you might not want a full belly.” Curious, but completely vague. I enjoy surprises, so I didn’t pry.

We got home, went for a run and showered. Knowing full well that something was in the works, I asked how I should dress post shower. “Comfortably sexy. I don’t think we’re going out.” Of course, one has brief thoughts of fantasies that are far too improbable for reality, but I quickly settled down to earth. “Hmm, maybe she’s asked B over to give me a massage. That would be lovely.” Then the girl tells me if I wanted to indulge in any recreational pharmaceuticals, now would be the right time. *gulp* I’m enough of a control freak that taking a mind-altering substance without knowing exactly what was in the works for the evening took a considerable leap of faith. But I leapt in an ecstatic fashion. And somewhat nervously waited for the other shoe to drop.

About thirty minutes later, the doorbell rang and I nearly jumped out of my skin. She smiled and said, “You should go answer that.” Heart thumping, I went to the door to find… a woman I’ve been seeing lately! And behind her… was the other woman I’ve recently become involved with! They came in bearing pizza boxes, homemade cupcakes, and absolutely mischievous grins. My mind quickly bounced back and forth, “This can’t be what I think it is! Oh my stars, I think it is! No, it can’t! Oh shit, I think it is!”

Some background, for context: “Splendor” has been my partner for a good long while, and knows both of the others socially, but has never err, umm, “gone there” with either. “Cheer” I have known for a long time, but the relationship has only recently escalated to a significantly new level. And “Mirth” is someone I’ve been involved with off and on a couple of times, currently “on” and hopefully done with the “off” problems. Cheer and Mirth had met briefly at a couple of parties, but that was about the extent of their experience with each other. I found out after the fact that about a week ago Mirth asked Splendor what plans were in store for my birthday, and my quote was relayed to her. Bless her heart, she took the idea and ran with it, contacting Cheer and coordinating the event. Such balls!

The Three Graces

Back to the narrative. The girls got a bite to eat while I fidgeted in an anxious fashion, trying to figure out if I was already deeply hallucinating. After a short time, someone suggested that perhaps it was time to find a more comfortable space to lounge. A brief bit of scurrying for armfuls of pillows and blankets and we were soon ensconced in a very cozy nest. Soon enough, clothes were shed, copious amounts of oil were applied to all available flesh and things got decidedly warmer!

I can only pretend to relay the roughest of outlines of what followed; my head was swimming in an ocean of awe, appreciation and astonishment. For a brief time I lay passively and accepted the oily petting and stroking of six hands and many kisses, sometimes from multiple people at once. But I’m really not built for passivity and soon started orchestrating matters. Splendor was placed in the middle and received ample attentions from all of us, with one person leading the main event and the other two assisting in whatever clever ways they could find. And then another person took the lead. And then I took the lead. After we had thoroughly given Splendor all she could possibly handle, we rotated Mirth into the middle and repeated the process. We took a brief break to soak in the hot tub, but swiftly returned for a second act. We repeated the same routine with Cheer, and then I got the finale session in the middle.

Each girl is so completely different in her wants, needs, preferences; I began each session by telling some story about that girl’s kinks (Your kink is okay!), amusing little stories about our early experiences, anything to break the ice and set the stage for what that girl might especially enjoy. And for fuck’s sake, did they rise to the occasion! Every one of them dove into the action with all due vigor and enthusiasm, as though they were long-term lovers. I tried to quietly check in with each of them at various times, just to make sure it was all good and everyone was in their happy place. Each time I was met with a big damn grin and firm instructions to quit worrying so much. I did my best to comply.

The night was such a long series of amazing things, and everything flowed so easily, so naturally, so comfortably, that it’s hard for me to lock down a precise sequence. However, some specific moments remain etched in my brain: The way Mirth lay directly under Cheer and held her down spread eagled to be used and abused. The way Cheer curled up against Splendor in a fawning, adoring, submissive fashion after receiving a series of exquisite bites on her torso that left bruises visible for days. The way Mirth presented herself face down, ass up so that I could make her squirt profoundly, multiple times, to the delight of our audience.

But more than anything, I will long remember and cherish the feeling of love and adoration that filled the space. Everyone was so incredibly loving, open, giving, accepting, supportive… I was just awestruck. And when I remind myself that this was the first time any of them had ever interacted with the others in anything resembling a sexual context, I hardly know how to respond. I am blessed beyond measure.

The following day was a flurry of glowing messages and photos of spectacular love bites. One of the girls said, “I went into it thinking I was doing it for you. I came out of it knowing I did it for me.” I find both ends of that so beautiful, it makes me tear up. That any or all of them would consider doing such a thing for me is an honor I can barely comprehend. That it became such a beautiful, shared, mutual experience for all three of them just fills my heart with joy and love.

The bravery and openness of these women completely awes me. I fail to see how I have earned it, but they assure me I have. I’m going to bust my ass trying to live up to the person they think I am.

For the past year or so, I’ve been exploring BDSM activities with a little more enthusiasm. On playa in 2014, I camped with the Theme Camp “Retrofrolic”, which is the largest BDSM playspace on the playa. I’ve taught classes on making your own flogger (from upcycled bicycle innertubes). And I am newly involved in a significantly more serious BDSM relationship than I’ve experienced before. In these experiences, I’ve been the “top”, the “dom”, the “sadist”.

Despite that, I’ve been really uneasy with the title “sadist”. It didn’t feel like it fit me, but I had a hard time articulating why. 

From a historical perspective, the writings of the Marquis de Sade describe some really extreme behavior, sexual abuse, rape, pedophilia, necrophilia… some reprehensible actions, to say the least. But okay, let’s agree that we’re only talking about the context of consenting sexual behavior involving pain and/or dominance. There are still aspects of that that sit uneasily with me. It was jarring to walk into camp in the wee hours of the morning and greet a fellow Burner who had a fresh array of bright purple welts from the small of her back to her lower thighs, purple drifting into blood red in places. And she was enormously proud of them! I very firmly believe and embrace “Your kink is okay!”, but at the same time that was a level of BDSM that I had a hard time personally relating to.

So I’ve been pondering this term, “sadist”, talking it over with partners, even talking about it with a local meeting of sex geeks (wow, I love Portland!). And I think I’ve finally figured out my own personal relationship with the term.

I have relationships where I really enjoy exerting control and dominance, where I provide verbal abuse and inflict considerable amounts of physical pain. And I’m not a sadist.

Let me explain by giving you an example from my massage practice. Nearly every massage I do includes some work with my fingertips on the client’s temples. Most clients really love this, but there are a few that hate it and I make a note to avoid it with them in future massages. And some clients like it but only with the very lightest of pressure, while others wants me to wear a groove in their skulls. And you know what? It’s all good. I don’t think less of the people who hate it, and I’m not upset at someone who doesn’t want me to bear down as hard as I might. The point isn’t to flex my finger muscles; the point is to make that person feel good! And if that particular move doesn’t work for someone, I move on and find something that does make their toes curl!

And that’s very much how I feel about my BDSM practices. I have had a few girlfriends who enjoy aspects of those behaviors. And I’m currently involved with someone who is taking me to the limits of where I thought I could go. But I also have a partner who has no appreciable interest in those activities at all. And it’s all good! I’m not grumpy and sad because I have a girlfriend who doesn’t want to be flogged ruthlessly. For me, the point isn’t the pain, the point is to use that pain as a vehicle for bringing someone pleasure. And I’m really talking about “for me” here. I hugely enjoy giving my partners pleasure. I like bringing them to a fevered spot in their head where conscious thought stops and their senses are electrified. If getting there involves some extra dirty talk and a little spanking, I can handle it. If it involves causing screaming pain and some bruising, I can hang. But I have no desire to go there if it doesn’t make my partner’s toes curl.

If I were really a sadist and had a partner who wouldn’t let me beat them savagely, I have to think I’d be really disappointed in that. “Aww, here’s this girl I’m really into, and I can’t indulge this thing that I really love to do. That sucks!” In fact, I have a kink I feel exactly that way about. I love giving a woman head. Even if it isn’t that pleasurable for a particular partner, I still enjoy licking her pussy. The smell, the texture, the taste. Mmm, the taste. That richer, muskier taste that comes when she is thoroughly aroused. It makes me growl with hunger. If I had a partner who refused to let me eat her pussy, I would be hugely sad. It would feel like a huge loss in the relationship, to me. ‘cause that’s my kink. (And your kink is okay!)

But I don’t feel that way about BDSM. If that doesn’t work for a partner, I’ll find something else that will. I’ll find something that will make them gasp, stop them in mid-sentence, make them see a mandala of light pulse in their vision. As long as she also lets me eat her pussy every so often. 🙂

My soundtrack for this discussion is courtesy of Momus: I Want You But I Don’t Need You

Over three hours of the most intense scene I’ve ever been in… and I still couldn’t get her to use her safeword. Fucking hell!

I don’t think I’ve talked about this previously on the blog, but I’ve had some reasonably serious training in massage therapy. There was a period where I took a rush of massage classes and amassed nearly 500 hours of training. In the process, I managed to convince myself that massage was never something I’d want to do for a living. But it’s definitely something that has enriched my life and that I really enjoy. I still own a table and it is set up and prepared for use at a moment’s notice. Lately I’ve been more proactive about finding friends and acquaintances who are interested in receiving massages; I really enjoy the practice and find it incredibly grounding and rewarding.

Note: Despite how sexually voracious I may appear to be on this blog, I maintain some hard and fast lines around the massage table. My basic rule is, I never do anything for the first time on the massage table. If I haven’t seen you naked before, then you’re going to be professionally and respectfully draped on my table. If we’ve never had a sexual relationship before, then I’m damn sure not crossing that line while someone is vulnerable and trusting on my table.

With that setup in mind, I have recently started a sexual relationship with a new partner. The relationship is delightful and so very rewarding in a number of ways, but there is one aspect of it in particular that is echoing through my head lately. This partner is rather fond of intense and extreme sensations. Where most people tend to pull back from pain, she really enjoys leaning into it. I mean, really enjoys it, to an extent I’ve not experienced before.

I recently had her on the massage table (note: after we had already started a sexual relationship) and over the course of the massage started playing with how her pain response manifested on the massage table. There are some spots on the body where people really tend to carry their tension, places where you learn to move very slowly and gently, and only gradually apply some pressure. I eased into it by approaching those spots as slowly and as cautiously as I normally would, and then gradually increasing pressure beyond where I normally would. For instance, my partner was supine and I stood at the head of the table with the base of my palms on her pec minor (on the chest between the clavicle and the breast tissue). I spent a little time warming up the area and getting the blood flowing, doing some smoothing strokes down the length of the muscle. When I felt her relax into it a little, I moved my fingers into her anterior axilla (the front of the armpit), hooked my fingertips under her pec minor and applied a gentle traction trying to stretch and elongate the muscle. Her legs twitched and her hips shifted as she adjusted to the intensity of the sensation. To my surprise and delight, she then arched her back and pulled against me, intensifying the pull against her muscle. I shifted my stance and braced my pisiform (the bony point at the ulnar base of the palm) against her pec and leaned into it. Her chest dropped and she cried out softly, but then almost immediately she arched her back and pressed into it. I leaned in with more body weight, she groaned and then arched into it even more. We continued taking turns escalating intensity for a few more rounds, and then I finally let my palms slowly glide down until I was cupping her breasts. I firmly seized her nipples between my thumb and knuckle and pinched roughly until she was sucking air through her teeth.

The pattern repeated multiple times across her body over the next hour. I rolled her prone on the table and dug my fingers into her soleus (deep in the calf) until she was beating her fists on the table and crying out. When I moved to her thighs, I drove the knuckles of my closed fists along up her hamstrings, from the back of her knee all the way up to her gluteal fold. I leaned increasing amounts of my body weight into each stroke until she was writhing from the sensation. I flattened out my hands and spread my fingers and repeated the stroke, reaching higher and higher, until the middle finger of one hand slid right into her dripping wet pussy. After several iterations of that, I left my finger in her cunt and slid my other hand under her hip and let her use her body weight to grind my fist into her glutes and hip rotators. Some time later, I hooked my finger into her pussy and pressed firmly against her g-spot. Her hips came off the table and I lifted her legs into the air over her head. When she found her balance, partially inverted with my fingers curled inside her pussy, she shifted her legs and used her body weight to expertly ride the very edge of how much pressure her g-spot could take.

It went on for over an hour, grinding and pushing and writhing. Panting from the exertion, groaning from the pain/pleasure. Sweat and oil glistening over taut and straining muscles. So many separate interests came together in such an amazing way; that primal love of skin-to-skin contact, the grinning pleasure of searching for someone’s physical boundaries and then inching right up against that line, pushing my knowledge of anatomy and body leverage to new uses and understanding, and that raw unbridled joy from giving someone else intense physical, sexual pleasure and release. I don’t think I’ve ever had an experience like that before and it’s hard to imagine having that kind of experience with someone else; it seems unique to our separate and complimentary kinks.

When it ended I was simultaneously drained and energized, grinning and dizzy. I am so very impatient for a repeat performance.