Sex happens to be one of my favorite topics. After some consideration, I decided to share my history with the subject. I know that this is a long post, but to get it out there, I've decided to post everything at once. I realize that this may be TMI for some people, however, I respectfully ask that if you don't care to know, don't read it.
My dad likes to tell me a story about when our family lived in Ohio. I was three or four years old on one particular occasion that we were out. Dad says that two attractive girls walked by and I eagerly called out "Hey baby!" I don't remember the incident at all, in fact it may have been after we moved back to Michigan. It strikes me as being rather significant because I think it establishes my attraction to women at an early age.
I recall being six or seven and having a vague awareness of what sex was. I knew that it involved being naked, the male penis and the female vagina, though I don't believe I had ever seen one. I had ideas and images, but nothing clear. Some might say that this was a sign of sexual abuse, but I have no recollection of any such thing happening to me.
I do clearly recall being 8 years old and visiting some friends of my parents. While the adults were talking, I got bored and went for a walk outside. While out there, I discovered a magazine. It was full of pictures of naked women in suggestive poses. This is the first time I remember ever seeing a woman's breasts or vagina before. I read some of the stories, though they were short to accommodate the large suggestive pictures. The one I remember most clearly was about two women performing oral sex on each other, though I had no concept of what they were doing at the time. My parents visited this couple often, and I used every excuse that I could to go outside and look at the magazine. I was grossed out by some of the images, but also liked them and was drawn to them. I noticed that my body reacted and I liked that too. One day, the husband came out and found me with the magazine. He told me that I was too young for that and threw it out into an over grown field. He didn't do a very good job, because the next time I looked, I found it again easily.
A while later, my mom caught me looking at a nude advertisement in a women's magazine at the doctor's office. She took it from me and had my dad talk to me when we got home. We sat awkwardly on my parents' bed as my dad refused to look at me and tried to explain what I had done wrong. I told him about the first magazine and where I had found it. I don't recall anything about the conversation other than the idea that I should be ashamed of myself for my interest and what I did. I really don't think that was what my dad was driving at, but his serious discomfort with the topic left me with that impression.
A word of warning. For this next part, I am going to be intentionally vague and misleading, though I may share some vivid details. I am doing this to protect someone. Please, do not ask who.
My family visited a friend's cabin each year. When I was 10, I was out swimming with a girl I knew. Our parents were in the cabin visiting and we were playing in the lake. When we swam out to the diving raft, she decided that we should play a game. I frankly hated her games and wanted to just swim on my own. She set up a scenario and told me that I had to tell her what to do. I tried to ignore her, but she insisted until I finally told her to flash me her breasts. She was older than me, and already developing. She told me no and dove back into the water. This was the reaction that I expected and I also dove back into the lake. I started picking up rocks from the bottom, which had been that summer's project for me. The girl started calling my name and I tried to ignore her. After a time, I finally looked and she had the top of her swimsuit down, exposing her breasts. My jaw about hit the bottom of the lake. We spent the rest of our time touching each other under the water.
This initiated a six year physical relationship. We soon discovered that it was the best way for us to get along. It was primarily oral, because we were afraid of our parents finding out if we took the time to buy protection. Our families were pretty well known in the community and we were well known at the only places in town that sold condoms. I was primarily the giver. I didn't particularly care for her style of fellatio. We did have a brief pregnancy scare once, but she wasn't and we got our heads on (relatively) straight after that. I never considered her my girlfriend. In fact, I didn't really know whether or not to call what we were doing sex. We would often go a few months without it, do to guilty consciences, but eventually we would get together again.
On a dare from a friend, I bought a Playboy from another kid at school. I flipped through it on the bus, looking around desperately to see if anyone was looking. I was disappointed because there were supposed to be naked pictures in it. I stashed it away and took it home. When I could close my door, I opened the magazine and finally found what I was looking for. I looked and pleasured myself as best as I knew how at the time. For the first time in my life, I ejaculated. When looking at the pictures became boring, I read. I learned about sexual techniques and I was fascinated to try them, though I never really got the chance.
I grew up Christian, but my exposure to Fundamentalism changed my perspective. I ended my sexual relationship and never resumed it. I took a vow of abstinence and decided to wait until marriage until I had sex again. This in turn boosted my desire for a relationship and my frustration at not having one. I still looked at pornography, but I now considered it a problem, an addiction. I tried to suppress my interest, which combined with a lack of access and an impulsive nature cause me to act out in inappropriate ways. Namely viewing pornography on public computers.
I occasionally visited the yahoo personals under a fake ID that claimed I was 21. I would find ads that I liked, particularly those offering picture exchanges and tell them that for pictures I would write them a story about sex. I had often done this at home on our non-internet linked computer and the idea that someone would actually read and like my writings thrilled me. I got one response, from a lesbian, and I promised to make my story about two women. She offered me notes and suggestions, and kept her promise to send me pictures. I didn't think about it at the time, but the photos she sent me were rather professional and often followed a theme. "She" may have been pulling them from a website. Truthfully, I never really cared.
I joined a cult soon after, then went to a Christian College. I ended up homeless in Santa Cruz, California and that began a long process of changing my perspective on so many things. Sex, gender, and sexual orientation were high up on that list. I began frequenting a BDSM dating site, talking with some of the members. I rarely engaged in anything other than playful banter and strong imagining. I learned that when I wrote, I could shape the world of words in whatever way I wanted. I worked in a gay bar and had several friends who were homosexual and bi. In fact, during that time in my life, I could count on gays, pagans, and atheists more than I could count on Christians.
I began to view sex as an act, something pleasurable to do with another person. I was still deeply religious and one night prayed to God that I knew having sex outside of marriage was a mistake, but I felt that I needed to make it. I felt a response that it was ok, but God was going to choose the woman I was going to be with. A few days later, a woman began hitting on me. I resisted her at first, but within a couple of weeks, I stayed the night at her place. We didn't sleep together, or have sex right away. Before I left that day, she took her shirt off and had me claw her back. I grew my nails out back then and filed them into points. She then had me lay on top of her so she could feel my weight. I took the opportunity to play with her breasts, though I was a little rough with her. I backed off a bit after that, but she came to me again, asking if I would house sit for her while she was out of town.
When she came back, we engaged in a few sessions of oral sex. Upon seeing my penis for the first time, she told me that it was a good size for anal. It was the first compliment I'd ever received about my sex and was flattered. I had learned a few techniques about oral since then and saw this as an opportunity to try them out. Before I could finish, she pushed me away and rolled on her side, telling me it was too intense. She later told me that I was very talented at it. She was into tantra, so we progressed slowly. That, I think, was part of the problem for me. I had too much time to think it over and my anxiety built up. I told her I couldn't do this anymore. She told me it was fine, that she could easily change her paradigm and adjust, but I could tell that she was hurt. Truthfully, it had nothing to do with her. I was just too tied up in myself to keep going. I couldn't tell her that, hell I barley understood it myself. In time, I might have gotten back to her, but she began to chase after me rather relentlessly rather than giving me the space I needed.
I let it go, mostly. I gave myself permission to view pornography and this has allowed me to have a healthier relationship with it, even if I am still somewhat compulsive about it. I gave myself permission to have sex, though I have other issues that stand in the way of my relationships in that regard. I began having cyber sex, and discovered that my detailed, descriptive writing gave me an edge in that kind of play. I decided that if I wasn't in a relationship, that I should learn everything I could about performing well until I had a lover to practice with. I think that my research as improved my writing, if nothing else.
I reflect. I reflect on my first partner and realize that our relationship had so many problems, our age doesn't seem important... though that was likely the cause of most of our problems. I reflect on my partner in California. I'd like to see her again, explain, apologize, maybe have a fling or something more. Maybe. I reflect on the fact that for all of my sexual experience, I never engaged in intercourse. I would like to, but it strikes me as being seriously selfish to pursue anything just for that. I'd rather have a partner to focus on than on any place I'm lacking. I reflect on the amazing women in my life. Nothing I've seen, done, or been through has removed or tarnished my respect for women as a gender.
I know, this was long. If you read it, thank you. I hope to continue sharing my thoughts on sex very soon.
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