Dawning appreciation

Sex at Dawn didn’t so much show me how others live or reveal to me some mystic, hidden secret about human nature as much as it put form and structure around things I had already figured out about myself and human sexuality. It has left me thinking and feeling things more deeply than any book I’ve read in a long, long time. Maybe ever.

Cheating on Belle was certainly the most colossal screw-up of my adult life. I don’t see Sex at Dawn as a way to retroactively create for myself a pass on that in any way. But man, do I wish I had read it before all that went down (not that I could have since it was published about two years after those events). So much of how we human monkeys are put together I intuited from that and subsequent experience, but it’s all laid out in the book. It all makes so much more sense now.

The affair was about more than sex. It was about connectedness with another human. It was about feeling alive and vital. And in becoming involved with The Other Woman, I felt things I didn’t know one could feel for more than one person at a time. Not the same type of love I feel for Belle. But affection and interest and many similar aspects of how I feel for her. Nothing that detracted from Belle’s place in my heart. If anything, I felt more in love with her. I wonder what it would have been like had I been honest with her and all the feelings of significant guilt and fear hadn’t been clouding the picture.

But that’s in the past and it’s what led to the present and the present is good. I regret the choices I made, but not the consequences.

The most interesting reaction I’ve had to the book is how it’s colored my opinion on marriage. Not being in love with someone and wanting to spend a really long time in their company (up to and including the rest of your life). Not on being committed to them and pairing up and building a life. But absolutely on what I think is a government sanctioned perpetuation of the myth of one-man-one-woman monogamous bliss. I think that’s bullshit.

Monogamy is expected. It’s assumed to be the natural order (just like heterosexuality). But it’s not and everything about us says that. Our physiology and psychology are both hardwired against it and constantly fighting it. This is obviously so. And yet, when we succumb to our innate drive to be promiscuous, we either do so duplicitously and hurt those we love or we do it with their (or one another’s) consent and are judged harshly for it by others. The stock assumption is because relationships that are open to other loves or other sex partners are complicated that they’re wrong and should be avoided. This is the same kind of thinking that makes people avoid anything other than standard, married, boy-girl missionary sex and it’s just as wrongheaded.

All human relationships are complicated, it’s just that we have more experience with some than with others. There is nothing innately bad with being in some kind of affection dynamic with more than a single person. There is nothing intrinsically immoral about having sex with more than the one person you’ve decided is the one you love more than any other. Because we have all been culturally indoctrinated to believe we are a certain way and to reject dynamics and realities that don’t align with that paradigm, we react negatively. We recoil and feel uneasy and fearful. We are afraid of who we are because we don’t know who we are.

And that’s why I think state-sanctioned marriage is bullshit. There are many ways for people to find happiness and love and commitment. It’s no one’s place to judge and it’s not the role of the state to pick winners and losers. Conservatives like to say that gay marriage will lead to the destruction of “traditional values” and I hope to fucking god they’re right. People can be happy and children can be lovingly raised and the world and our society will be better for it once we get out of the way of who we are and how we need to be, both on the scale of us as a species and the scale of us as individual people.

Of course, those who choose monogamy are free to do so. Just as those who choose to have their junk locked up by their spouses are free to do so and those who want to be tied up and beaten are also free to do so. Just as any consenting adult is free to do anything else with another consenting adult (or group of adults) that results in no harm to any other uninvolved person. Is there any better definition of freedom than that?

Reading Sex at Dawn has crystalized a lot of things I was already thinking. It’s given form to feelings. I don’t think I’ll ever think specifically the same way again. And that’s a really good thing. If you haven’t already done so and are sex-positive and open to new experiences and want to better understand what it is to be a sexual, loving human being, read it. Just read it. If you’re not those things…what the hell are you doing here?

Born to fuck

Belle says to me last night sort of out of the blue, “I’m really glad you’re not polyamorous.” She’s making the correct distinction between having multiple loves versus multiple sex partners.

I’m about halfway through Sex at Dawn and it’s rocking my world. Pretty much everything the popular culture wants us to believe about human relationship is wrong. So much guilt and shame and bullshit piled up in an attempt to hold back how humans evolved to be. Not act. TO BE. It’s a remarkable read and I’m sure I’ll say more about it when I’m done.

But the thing that I keep thinking about is the difference between polyamory and promiscuousness. Humans are designed to be promiscuous, but are they designed to be polyamorous? Belle’s right that I love only her. And I do it deeply. But could I love someone else at the same time? I don’t really know. I suspect that if I did it would have a different texture than the love I feel for Belle. I suspect that multiple loves take on unique qualities based on the unique combination of those involved. I know I can’t feel anything like the love Belle gets from me for a man (as we’ve already discussed in length), but another woman?

I doubt it if only because I’d know how it would make Belle feel. Not that it’s going to happen, of course, but the merest whiff of the potential to hurt her would cause me to immolate any other potential affection dynamic. The term “affection dynamic” is interesting to me as I think about love in the context of what Sex at Dawn says about us as primates. The entire concept of one-on-one exclusive and eternal love might just be part of the big lie that I talked about. When Belle says she’s glad I’m not polyamorous I hear fear that if I was I might leave her. As if love is binary. I will never leave her. I will die with her. Period. But that fear based on the idea that one person is always with another single person is pervasive.

She said again it’s why she’d never want someone of her own on the side. She’d be afraid of developing entangling emotions for them. I would be shocked if she didn’t, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think she should if she wants to. I don’t fear her leaving me. I know what I am to her. Of course, if such a thing were to happen and I needed to find a way to share her, that wouldn’t necessarily be a straightforward process for either of us, but I do not fear it.

I’m just spitballing here. Not making any suggestions or saying anything will happen. But I am trying to process where cultural conditioning ends and real human behavior begins. If anything, Sex at Dawn makes me angry. Angry at the powers and individuals who are invested in and part of the industrial complex of enforcing the dominant paradigm of human relationship in Western culture. Angry at those who are judgemental and rigid and think my business (or yours) is theirs. Angry that we are so fucking hung up on sexuality that we can’t talk about it. Not the average reader of this blog. I’m sure we’re relatively OK talking about it. But all of them. The ones who have been taught that sex and desire are things to fight against. To resist. To minimize.

We are sexual monkeys. We were born to fuck. Perhaps even to love. But we traded that in for what we have now. And that makes me angry.

Love her two times

Saturday morning was our usual sexy funtime I usually start looking forward to at about 3:26 on Wednesday afternoons. ‘Cept this time, unlike many of the recent occurrences, Belle let me out of the Steelheart beforehand.

It’s like firing a starting pistol at a dog race. As soon as the steel comes off, a nagging buzzing feeling starts whirring someplace right behind the penis. It knows. This feeling is totally different when I’m still locked up. How much of it is in my head and how much is in my crotch I can’t say, but that’s where I feel it.

Regardless, I know what getting unlocked under those circumstances means. It’s not for me that I get out. This is not Thumper time. She wants to be fucked. I, then, assume the role she desires. Sure, I want to fuck her, too, but there’s a particular kind of manly fucking she craves and when I get out on a Saturday for no apparent reason, that’s my job. No doubt I’m going to like it, but I need to keep myself from liking it so much that I can’t perform long enough.

On this particular Saturday morning, I gave her just enough foreplay to get the juices going (they already were, turns out) before mounting her like I own the joint. I think she really liked this based on the aforementioned juices, a compliment attitude, and the moaning. Oh man, the moaning. It’s what gets me every time. She wants to be vocal during sex and I absolutely love hearing her be that way, but it’s raw meat to the subby bunny’s alter ego. Once the moaning and groaning start, that nagging buzzing I talked about flares up into a breeding imperative I struggle to keep in check. Even the baseball distractions didn’t help (mostly because there’s no such thing as baseball right now).

I started to slow down and she said, “Why are you stopping?” as if it wasn’t perfectly clear why I was stopping so soldiered on. “BASEBALL,” is what I was trying to think but the lizard in my head was all, “I FUCKING LOVE THAT MOANING SHIT!” I tried so hard, but couldn’t keep it back. I came while I fucked and kept on fucking even through the intensity of the post-orgamsic nerve olympics. Her pussy went from nicely worked up and wet to ridiculously slippery and messy in about three squirts. I think because of that change in viscosity, she only came a little (which is kind of a female thing, right? Coming just a little?) while I was left panting and gasping and dealing with the fiery penile tissue. She finished herself off with Pink right after. So, I came, but didn’t really enjoy it. A few hours later, I was feeling really horny as if it never happened.

She didn’t have me relock myself after so I was free as a penis-shaped bird when, the next morning, things started to get going again. This time she told me straight up that I was going to get to come and enjoy it. Of course, first I had to get her off so I did.

There was zero angst about having another orgasm whatsoever. It is her choice when I come and she chose to let me. Period. I was able to enjoy it, the fucking that led up to it, all of it.

She told me before that I had to promise to stay in the right frame of mind and be a good bunny and all that so I did. I promised. I even meant it. Though later that day, when she told me it was time to go in, I waffled. And not a little. With whip cream and peach preserves and a side of bacon. She said fine, but Monday morning I had to be in with the key in her hand before she left for work. I pancaked, but she had none of it. So, as soon as the offspring were both off on their daily endeavors, I was handing her the key.

“You know this is what you want,” She said to me. No, I didn’t know that right in the moment, but yes, I do know that in the big picture I want it. Just…you know…not exactly then.

So that’s three orgasms in about six weeks. Far too many, she thinks. Says the next will be a while. “A long time,” is all I can get out of her. No idea what that means since she probably doesn’t either, but I’m thinking that’s it for 2014. As it should be, of course.

A boy and his best friend

There’s a saying about a dog being a boy’s first best friend but, in reality, the first best friend a boy has is his penis. It’s always there for him (and has been from the very start), is always ready to play, and, with a penis, a boy will never be bored for too long.

I suppose, kinda like a dog, when the boy finds a significant other that person can come between the boy and his penis except that the penis, unlike the dog, enjoys the other as much as the boy does so maybe the metaphor breaks down here, but the boy can always depend on the penis to be there for him even when the significant other loses their significance (and/or the dog dies). I can’t say if a woman’s relationship with her pussy is the same, but I don’t think it is. I suspect this is due to cultural indoctrination about what good girls do and don’t and what boys are allowed or even expected to do combined with the universal common knowledge that permeates our society as to how a boy can use his penis for pleasure by himself with no open discussion as to how a girl would do the same with her parts. Plus, I think penises are just simpler. Plus plus, women and their sexual needs are, I assume, fundamentally different in their psychology and mechanics than men’s. But I don’t have a pussy and, even though I know what they like, I won’t pretend to know how they are.

I say all this because I was thinking the other day as I lay next to Belle who had told me I wasn’t going to be unlocked at all and would therefore not feel any pleasure with the penis (regardless of how badly I was craving it) that boys (and the men they turn into) have nothing to prepare them for the kind of delayed and redirected gratification that comes with chastity and denial. We are physically and socially conditioned to expect on-demand gratification either from our partner or, lacking that, ourselves. In the forty-some years of my existence prior to having Belle control the penis, that was my life. If I was horny and she was unresponsive to my needs, I would jack off. QED.

But then chastity came along and I couldn’t do that. Plus, I was a lot hornier than ever before (excepting, perhaps, those years between my 16th and 23rd birthdays). And now, of course, I am specifically not allowed any such indulgence. What I did was take that sense of immediate need and simply make it Belle’s responsibility. I distinctly remember thinking she didn’t take my desires seriously enough considering the great gift of my chastity that I had given her. Double frustration. Not only was I horny as fuck, she didn’t seem to think it was her job to help me channel my frustrations.

I think this is a trap a lot of guys find themselves in.

Chastity and denial are, indeed, great at bringing couples closer together. But that can also do the opposite if the guy takes his perceived birthright of easy sexual gratification and pushes it over onto his partner. That is not the point of chastity. And it didn’t become the force for good that it is for us until I figured that out.

The only way to really quench my sexual thirst is to have an orgasm. But I only want that physically, not mentally or emotionally. She doesn’t want that either, most of the time. So I had to realize that my frustration and the constant need for sexual contact was mine to deal with, not hers. Yes, it often gnaws at me and flutters around in my chest and makes my balls ache and the penis hard and drippy, but that energy is what powers the beneficial aspects of chastity and denial. It is chastity and denial, not a side-effect.

I remember people telling me in comments on the blog early on that I wasn’t seeing the big picture. That I wanted her to control my sex, right? And wasn’t this what that meant? That I wouldn’t get whatever I wanted whenever I wanted it? But I didn’t see it. In short, I was a spoiled boy who missed his best friend. I struggled to adapt. But yes, I did want her to control my sex and living with not always getting what I want is the point. And, strangely, being totally estranged from my first best friend and completely removed from instant (or any) gratification has made me significantly happier than I was before. I can’t explain why, but it’s true. I don’t know how it works, but it does.

So now, when she tells me I’m not getting unlocked or even that we are not going to have sex, instead of feeling angry or resentful or petulant, I feel warm and grateful. Grateful that she has accepted the true meaning of her control without guilt or excessive consideration of what I’m feeling. Yes, she does recognize that what I go though can be hard, but she and I both know it’s for the best. We both know it makes me a better person and partner to her and it’s what we both want. So she appreciates it, but what I crave is not a primary consideration when she decides what she wants to do. And holy shit, does that turn me on.

If you read this blog because you hope one day to have your partner keep you locked up and/or deny you your orgasm, you need to know that doing it the way we do it means more than just a stifled erection. It means truly subjugating your sex to theirs. It means finding a way to capture and use that pent-up sexual desire for productive purposes and not letting it leak all over them in destructive and selfish ways. That is fucking hard. Maybe the hardest thing you’ll ever do for your partner. But, if you can pull it off, maybe the best thing you’ll ever do for them and for yourself.

I mentioned up there the “great gift of my chastity” that I had given Belle. Yes, it is a kind of gift, but I know now that the gift of her control is at least as great. Maybe greater in that it wasn’t something she ever wanted to do with her husband or thought she’d need to deal with. Never forget that. Your chastity is not bigger or more important than what they give you in return as the one controlling you. Submission is not greater than domination. It is not harder than domination. They are equal yet opposite things.

I don’t want anyone to read all this and think chastity means less sex. That’s not what it means. For us, it’s meant more and so much better sex. What it means is fewer orgasms for you, that’s it. The trap is trying to get her to have sex with you every time you would have otherwise gone off to yank one out. That’s unrealistic and unfair. You need to find a way to get off on their being in control and telling you no. You have to get off on being controlled. I know, that sounds obvious, but it’s a lot easier to think than to do. If you can do it and also channel that energy into making them realize how good the extra hassle of being in control of you can be for them, you’ll wake up one day to find them as much or more invested in that control than you are.

You might miss your first best friend, but…you can always get a dog.

In the shadow

I’ve had a stressful week. I know, that’s not a very encouraging start to a post on a blog about kinky sexual practices.

I’m starting to wonder if I don’t have some kind of pathological disorder when it comes to getting stressed out about otherwise totally achievable tasks when they start to pile up. That, and leaving home. This week, I had a bunch of smallish things I had to do that you’d think someone in my position would be able to pull off without breaking a sweat but they were related to going on a business trip to a place I’d never been to meet people I didn’t know. That made me freak out a little inside. Well, maybe more than a little. I was functional, but eaten up with dread and that created a block that led me to put off what I knew I had to do for about two weeks until the last minute. And now I’m on said trip and walking around with a little ball of foreboding in my stomach. I’ll probably be fine once I’m actually in the conversations I’m here to have, but it’s leading up to them that’s bugging me.

The week started out, though, really well. Sunday, Belle and I had zero sex but I was left feeling very satisfied. I even told her I liked the day and she was surprised since I never got unlocked and never got into her pants.

That morning, she started out by telling me I wasn’t getting out. I was to remain as I had been and there would be no free penis time that week at all. That brought forth the forces of gnawing repressed sexual hunger and the warm and cozy sense of total submission to her. They met in my chest like opposing firehoses sprayed into each other’s maws and the resulting conflagration of energy combustion fueled my craving little bunny persona. I simultaneously wanted to rip her clothes off and fuck her violently while also bowing down to her will and curling up in the shadow of her domination. That is what being submissive feels like to me and it’s wonderful.

In any event, we started to get down to the business of getting her off but were distracted by the noises of children and their sleep-over guests and she decided we’d stop. Of course, I wanted to keep going. Badly. Really badly. But her decision was enough to throw a blanket over all my cravings and I didn’t put up a fight. Again with the gnashing and thrashing of my subjugated sexual monster overlaid with the obedient fuzzy bunny rolling over on his back. I felt really good about myself that I was nearly as satisfied by my reaction to being left locked and loaded than I would have been by feeling her come against my fingers or tongue.

Later that night, as we went to bed, she said she wanted me naked and next to her so I was expectational but all she wanted to do was feel me there and I didn’t get annoying. Another win. She also said she kinda sees the point of the clear Holy Trainer in that being able to observe the penis all smashed in there and controlled was a turn-on to her. Not so much that she liked it better than the Steelheart, but she got it. She reiterated to me again (because I need to hear it) that, in fact, she prefers me the way I am when denied and locked up over the me who isn’t locked or has come and, while the sex lizard bellowed in anguish, the rabbit purred. If, indeed, rabbits purr. Whatever purr-like thing rabbits do, it was doing.

So she left me feeling exactly like I want to feel. On many levels. And there was no sex. And it was still awesome.

But then the week started. The thing I had put off was on and in the forefront of my mind and the trip was perched down at the end of the week like a vulture and these things were interrelated and bugging me significantly. Then the furnace started acting like a fuckhead. And then it snowed and got really cold.

Fucking life.

In short, I got moody and irritable. But I tried like hell to hide that from Belle. Turns out, a lot of that feeling got rerouted to Drew. I didn’t want to be a dick to him, but trying to raise the enthusiasm necessary to be engaged in that dynamic was very difficult. And it made me even more annoyed. Not specifically with him, but with it all just being one more fucking thing I had to stress over. More things that piled on top of all the others that were freaking me out. I was really kind of a mess.

But it led to us having a conversation today to reset expectations all around. We agree that what we are able to do with each other is frosting on the cake of our primary lives. It’s entirely optional. It has to live in whatever air pockets exist around our “real” lives. And in my case, this week there were none. Plus, for me, this is just about sex. And I don’t say that in any way that should be construed as minimizing it because I think sex is very important. But I just don’t know that I’m wired in a way to be able to handle what we had both tried to establish in the past few weeks. Which is to say, I’m not looking for a polyamorous situation (and I’m not saying he was trying to make this into one) and I can’t do what I thought I could absent that kind of commitment. What I really want and have always wanted was a friendship with a guy who’ll screw me on the side. And that’s about it. And that’s OK with both of us.

So yeah, resetting expectations. He wondered if this would look like some kind of failure, but I rejected that. We aren’t failing at anything. We’re doing something new for both of us that’s also quite complicated. It’s evolving. It’s adjusting to the contours of our primary lives. If we can make that happen and still feel like we’re getting what we want out of it, how can that be failure? Quite the opposite. And there’s still elements of D/s involved because that’s who I am and it’s the kind of sex I need to have (future post topic: kink as a sexual orientation). It’s also who he is and what he wants. So we’re not totally abandoning that aspect at all. Evolution.

I’m still feeling a little freaked out and hate that I’m not home with Belle right now, but I think I’m over the worst. The hardest parts are behind me and I’ll be home in less than 24 hours. Home to my Belle and the warm bed and my place next to her, curled up in the shadow of her dominance. Purring. Or whatever it is rabbits do.


A dude calling himself shinycell asked:

I’ve been a lurker for a few years and finally ordered a Steel Heart with CB fix and anatomical ring. It is awesome. My wife loves it and what it does. Oh… I love it too.

I’ve had it since May and find that after about a week, with her daily teasings, I get a crazy pinching between the A ring and tube…on both sides of the tube. that bunch of skin gets trapped between. It gets pretty bad to break skin and I have to go without til it heals.

I can tell that my scrotum gets pretty full after a week. Not a blue swelling, but just a fullness. It goes away after I take the tube off.

I’m wondering if you’ve had a similar experience with the pinching. I was thinking, haven’t tried, if the fullness would go away with a milking :). The A ring is a 50 and I’ve worn cockrings that size for weeks without the fullness, so I don’t think it’s too small.

No, I don’t think your ring is too small. It sounds like the space between the ring and the tube is. Did you go with the standard gap or change it? For me, the standard spacing was fine, but you might need to have Dietmar tweak it. Also, did you get the vaguely named “stainless steel ring?” The Steelheart I wear has that. It’s supposed to make the edge of the ring not so sharp. Perhaps he could add that if you don’t have it already.

WRT to milking, that would relieve buildup from your prostate, not your balls. I’m very familiar with the swelling you’re talking about. Pretty sure that’s unused testicular product backing up in the epididymis. In fact, that swelling is pretty obvious in this picture I posted to Tumblr earlier today. It would definitely get pinched by a tube with either too sharp an edge or too small a spacing (or both).

Aaaaand, that’s it. Thought I had more, but all the rest either needed no reply or were simple email replies.

The Stocking Method

I mentioned the other day that I was going to be wearing the Holy Trainer v2 for a while in order to write up a review of it. The tube of the small HTv2 is fairly tight (about an inch high and maybe an inch and a third wide) and squishing an octopus-like flaccid penis into it is rather tricky. This is compounded by the unique nature of the biosourced resin used in the device. It’s softer and grippier on the surface than the kind of polycarbonate used in a device like the CB-6000 (though nothing as soft and grippy as silicone).

In any event, a device such as this requires employment of the venerable “stocking method” of penis insertion. Just clip the end off an old pair of women’s stockings (or a very thin pair of men’s stocks, I suppose) and do what I do in this video.

[wpvideo xyqoMprX]

The benefit of the stocking method is it puts the end of the penis about as far as it’ll go into the device. In the HTv2 (perhaps due to the sticky nature of the resin used), this means it will stay down in there pretty well and not sneak back up the tube. I find this makes urinating easier and may even help keep things cleaner.

The full review will likely be posted in a week or so.

Morning exchange

“Again with the feet.”
“I’m really horny this morning.”
“You’re horny because you looked at porn.”
“No, I looked at porn because I’m horny. I’m horny because you don’t let me come.”
“And that’s for the best, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good boy.”
“Thank you.”
“OK, you can make me come now.”

Why *do* we post?

An excellent question posed by mksboy on his blog.

In short, I post because I need to process my life and feelings through the written word. Were I living in 1920, I’d be writing a journal. But I live in 2014 so I blog. Way back at the dawn of time (October 12, 2008 to be precise — shit I forgot the blog’s anniversary again!), I said this:

The reason I started this blog, though, was not to categorize, compare, and contrast all the various practices (though that might happen along the way). None of the sites I’ve found seem to be written for me or my partner. There are elements of nearly all of them that appeal to me (and my kinky side), but when I think of how I want orgasm denial (OD) to work in our relationship, I can’t find an analogue. So, since we’re at the very beginning of our exploration and I don’t have anyone other than my partner with which I can discuss it, here I go. Maybe this will prove helpful for someone else.

So, even though I could still write a journal and be done with it, I also write a blog because it allows me to benefit from the community aspect of my readers (which, along the way, has been very helpful) and also to be a resource for those in a similar spot as Belle and I were in at one point. While I didn’t start out to become well known (at least to Google) on the particular subject of enforced male chastity, I’m not sad I did. But I am more than that.

Regardless, the subject of mksboy post wasn’t why any of us blog (and a lot of you do). It was about the other day when I was annoyed. His take on all that was:

If you are going to write about your life and your experiences with chastity (or any subject for that matter) you have to expect that some people aren’t going to like what you have to say.

Its not about right and wrong really. Its about people’s perception of what you write and who you are as a person. This often comes across as judgmental on the part of your readers. Guess what? It IS judgmental and that’s just how it goes.

Sure, I get that. If someone is massively turned off by the idea that a man would want to have sex with another man, there’s nothing to be done about that. That person is not wrong for what they feel just as the man who wants to bone another guy isn’t wrong in his feelings. Seems that’s from chapter one, page one of the Kinky Blog Reader’s Handbook. YKINMKBYKIOK.

Mksboy continues:

If I had any advice for Thumper I guess I would tell him to accept the negative and the positive comments. We learn from negative comments. Sometimes we learn that we need to reconsider our actions and make changes. Other times the comments just serve to reinforce what we already believe. There is no need to get defensive.

We blog and in doing so put ourselves out there for scrutiny. We are not always going to like what our readers have to say but what does it really matter? We have to have tough skin if we are going to put our sexual activities on the internet for all to read.

There’s a difference, I think, between negative comments and constructive feedback. Feedback, I’ve been told, is a gift, even when it’s negative (maybe especially then). Negative comments are just that. Of the three I quoted, only one could even barely be considered “feedback” (the one that warned, since I had had teh gay sex, to get myself tested for HIV). The other two were just negative and seemed to violate the YKINMK rule.

I have followed dozens of kink and sex blogs and sometimes they go places I have a hard time following. I DO NOT post to that effect. It is not my place to tell someone they’re doing something I don’t personally find interesting or sexy if it’s consensual on all sides. In other words, sometimes you just hold your tongue. I, as a reader, am always free to stop reading. I may judge them, but it’s not my place to tell them I don’t approve for no other reason than I don’t approve.

In my opinion, none of the comments that got me riled up were constructive in any way. They were rude and homophobic and distasteful. There was nothing whatsoever to learn from any of them and, being generous, two of them weren’t meant to be anything other than negative.

As I said, feedback is a gift. I will accept mksboy’s post in that light. But I disagree that I overreacted or failed to see the value in the comments in question. As always, I welcome feedback that is meant to be helpful. I totally reject anything that judges me or anything I do. I’m tired of being judged. Life’s too damned short.