In the Pink

Written way back when, to describe an experience that records the beginnings of my BDSM journey. History in the making, if you like. Enjoy.

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Exclusivity is simply not my thing. Never has been, really. Experience is everything, feelings are secondary. That is, until the feelings become primary. Not to mention, primal. Yeah baby. I want to feel, i want to know, i want to experience everything. While obviously ensuring my own safety, I’m open to pretty much any kind of sexual experience that i can think of — the caveat being that they have to turn me on.

Well honestly, what is the point otherwise?

The sort of screaming, pumping, amazing wild-monkey sex that so many people write of had always been a closed book to me. The planets didn’t align properly for me to even begin to understand the endless possibilities of sex until i hit my prime, which unlike Miss Jean Brodie, was 35, with no discernible affection for Fascism.

But once i got it… whoo-hoo mama. There began the eternal quest for adventures, encounters and experiences. You have read of many of my adventures here in these pages — and it is my fervent wish that you will continue to do so. Reports are subjective, as far as the way in which my memory works. And nothing is ever chronological. It’s all a case of what tickles my memory with its sensuously long fingers in a particular week.

And this week it’s the turn of screaming, pumping, amazing wild-monkey sex. To quote Mia Wallace, as she wipes her nose of telltale snowy residue prior to returning to her table, “Goddamn, i said goddamn!”

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You heard me speak of my wish to begin experimenting in restraint and BDSM. Control is always the issue for me. I often feel as though my real life — and yes, i do have one — is spinning out of control on a regular basis. It’s therefore time to put down the laptop (for this, read prise it out of my hands) and exert some of my well-worn and born of long experience control mechanisms and functions, and calmly bring the situation back to Normal status.

Therefore, when the issue of control enters the sexual arena in which i voluntarily place myself, it’s hard for me to let go. Hard, but not impossible. If the right person is there, whom I can fully trust.

That was Iain.

Iain and I were separated in age by only a few months,, and in height by just the requisite number of inches to make me feel petite and protected when he held me close to him. We met at a conference that i was attending as a correspondent for my employers, and he was a key note speaker.

We quickly established the kind of bond that proves that not only do pheromones exist, but that they have a wild side. Instant attraction on the eye, compounded by a sudden realization that we had felt very similarly when I’d conducted a phone interview with him a while previously, but due to pressures of professionalism were unable to act on anything.

This, however, was different. We met in the refectory of the college where the conference was being held, over a casual and excellently strong coffee. Through no more mundane a coincidence than table-sharing, we quickly established who we were, who the other was, and what time we’d both be free to meet later.

I don’t waste time when i don’t have to. Impatience is one of my worst flaws.

We had a connection from the get-go. That was very clear. We both thought of similar things at the same time, and tended to have the experience of one person sharing while the other gasped and said “I was just about to say that!”. The initial rapport and attraction grew rapidly, enabling us to shed both our inhibitions and our clothing with great speed. And the fucking was something brand new to me. Not only was it of the screaming, pumping, amazing wild-monkey variety, but the almost other-worldly compatibility had me more breathless than i already was after fucking solidly for two hours.

As we lay, limbs entwined and tangled, realizing that we couldn’t stop touching each other even for a second, the conversation returned to one we’d started earlier… about control and submission. I felt so secure, and at ease, that I told him what i was feeling at that moment; although hearing it loud came as nearly as much of a shock to me as it did to him.

“I’d love it if you took control. I trust you.”

A moment of stunned silence passed before he recovered himself, and smiled into my eyes, before kissing me deeply.

“You won’t regret it. I won’t do anything to you beyond what you can take. And I’ll listen to you, I promise. If you want me to stop at any time, you can say so — just be sure that you mean it.”

Frissons of excitement ran across my skin, as I felt his hand move across and down my body languorously, until he reached my breast and gave it a playful slap. I gasped in surprise as much as anything, and hummed happily.

My adventure was just beginning.