I’ve always been kinky, I just didn’t know I was. I grew up in the American South where sex is this unspoken thing that only happens between a married man and woman for the purpose of procreation. That’s a little bit of an overstatement, but the pleasurable side of sex was never a topic of conversation between my parents and I. Even with my girlfriends, we didn’t talk about what felt good, how to make it feel better, how to use toys and other accessories to augment the experience. It was a matter of fact conversation. I did this. He did this. We did that. We did it here or there. Much of the sex I had was spent with my finger on my clit rubbing away furiously while a man plowed into me and got his. It felt good, but it wasn’t right.
My husband was different right from the start. He didn’t label himself as kinky either, but just like me, he was deep down. And the things he did for me, the things we did together lit me up like a sparkler on the Fourth of July.
Most of my kinks are centered around control, giving it up, losing it, having it forcefully taken from me. I drip at the thought of being restrained, my body unable to move while he does unspeakable things to me or someone else while I am forced to watch. I remember when we first started having sex, he would hold my hair in his hand, my head forced back and up, my open mouth an empty vessel for his come, and he would fill it up. There was no way for me to move away from him as he forced himself on me, but I loved it.
I get off on being told what to do. I remember the first time he ordered me to do something. In the first few months we were dating, he instructed me to come over to his house wearing a skirt without panties. I left a mess on the seat of my car, my slick thighs clenched together as I waddled up the front walk. He didn’t say a word to me when I walked through his front door, he just gestured for me to slide my cunt up to his mouth so that he could eat me. This was all well before we officially discovered our kinky sides, before we fell in love with rope and impact and all the dirty things we like to do now. Now the lines are clear. He’s in control, and I am not. It’s not always that easy as I seem to grapple and fight for any small bit I can, but it’s what I crave sexually.
I used to cover my face with a pillow during sex, and I thought it was because I was embarrassed about my face, that I couldn’t come with someone watching me. I now know that blindfolds are one of my favorite kinks. It goes back to that loss of control. I want to feel the power of him over me, and a blindfold intensifies all of those feelings, both physical and emotional. Now I have many different styles of blindfolds, everything from a torn piece of a t-shirt to an old pillow case that can be thrown over my head quickly, as if I’m being kidnapped. We also have high end blindfolds, a faux fur-lined leather piece with a buckle and a full latex hood that puts me into the most incredible headspace. Being restrained with my vision removed is the quickest way to get me writhing with need. I don’t want to see what is happening, I don’t want any control. I just want to feel it, let the sensation wash over me until I’m powerless in it’s grasp.
We’ve always been into threesomes which is a pretty common sexual kink. We had our first before we were married and have had several since. Simply having another person join us in the bedroom doesn’t tap into that loss of control that gets me so hot, but he has found ways to push it into that realm. I’ve written many fantasies about this, about being made obsolete while he gets his pleasure from someone else. Since we have found regular partners to play with, I’m able to live out these fantasies in many filthy ways. First, he secured me to the St. Andrew’s Cross and made me watch while he played with one of our sexy friends. He’s had her sit on my face, nearly smothering me with her wet cunt while he face fucked her. I struggled to move my tongue against her as I heard her grunt and moan on his cock. He sent me a video of her choking on his cock in the back of his car while I was hundreds of miles away and unable to relieve the ache between my legs. I’ve also gotten to experience the other side, where she was tied up and we tortured her together in tandem, mouths biting and sucking, fingers exploring, greedily helping ourselves to her wet and helpless mouth.
We are always exploring new kinks. We’ve tried all sorts of things like knife play, hypnosis, role play, and electrical play. It all goes back to that loss of control that I crave so much. This all works because he is willing to take on the responsibility of being the one that holds the power. Our toy box is full of potential, and when we get through it all, we will be able to circle back around and do it all over again, if he wants to of course! Now that we have both embraced our kinky selves, the possibilities seem endless and the pleasure infinite.