Kinky or not? What say you?

In My Humble Opinion
21

I think this is an interesting topic. I hesitate to even post, but I can sort of relate. Before anyone comes in and starts preaching about date rape and other rape related issues, let me preface my statement with one word: consentual. I too am a very controlling person, not so much because I think I want or need to control things in my life, but because very rarely do others step in to do so, so I am left to lead and make decisions. In my youth I had a partner who I felt very open with, and with whom I was able to satisfy my desire to relinquish control. Not so much an all-out dominant/submissive thing, but more of a gradual process of trust. I’m an incredibly heavy sleeper, and this turned out to be a benefit in this process. Some of my fondest memories are of waking up in the middle of the night and turning from erotic dream to face erotic reality.

My husband and I are mostly vanilla, and while I cherish the memories of those encounters, I’m still dealing with other issues of my past relationship, and unfortunately those issues have tainted my desires. I’m left trying to sort out the healthy desires from the tangled web of emotional trauma of the relationship to determine what I can salvage and what I can leave behind.

22

About to log-off, but I just had to comment on the following:

Just excellent! Very well said, and that is exactly my point – we are definately on the same team here.

And I’ll make sure to take you up on your follow-up offer. There’s some other great points you bring up as well. Good to see I’m finally getting through.

Nite!

23

I believe Woody Allen said “Sex relieves the anxiety that love creates.” Fair enough.

I prefer to keep searching for common ground. It’s normal to find common ground in movies, music, dining… why not sexual preference? I can’t say for sure that I’ve ever had a sexual fantasy so vivid and strong that it would make or break an otherwise healthy relationship. My imagination will usually find something else to consider.

I think it all comes down to communication. Disclose it, discuss it, and if agreed upon, attempt it. Compare notes and start the whole process over again. Seems pretty simple to me.

24

Virgin here, but reading these posts reminds me of a friend’s (lack of a) sex life. She’s friends with her ex-boyfriend, and every time she goes over to his house alone with him, she ends up half naked in fragments of a cheerleader/schoolgirl uniform, usually tied to a chair. :confused: I thought this was especially odd since they haven’t been going out for quite a while (and he claims to have been over her), and I know no actual sex (oral or otherwise) has been going on. Also, can someone explain the allure to me of men tickling girls? Both I and the aforementioned friend get tickled all the time by our boyfriends (in her case, ex bf). I enjoy it, but why do men do this?

25

Alicia, the friend, also informs me that her ex has been known to remove her shoes as he’s tickling her, one by one, and then put them back on only to repeat the process. I don’t know what to make of it, and neither does she. Has anyone ever heard of this, or is just an individual little kink?

26

I once knew a guy who was into fruit, so to speak.

He had, for reasons I never found out and never had the courage to ask, bored a hole in one end of a watermelon, inserted his dingle, and let fly.

He apparently found the sensation interesting, and began experimenting. He found that slightly overripe melons were best as far as texture and sensation went, as the texture was apparently more “cottony”, as he put it. I can certainly see where they’d be moister, anyway. The real breakthrough, though, happened when he bored another hole in the other end … and slipped a vibrator in it.

He raved about it for days. I hadn’t heard anyone talk about sex in such… glowing… terms since high school, as we began, one by one, to lose our virginity. It was like he’d discovered a whole new third gender of people, with whom he was still a virgin… and he had begun to seek his one true love…

Things began to get a little strange. He really got into his experiments – he was going through six or seven melons a week, easily, and that was just what he’d admit to me. He acted like some horrible mutant psychological crossbreed of sex maniac, junkie, and quivering romantic.

I never had the courage to ask what he did with the watermelons afterwards. I almost did once, but I realized it might be a rather … personal… issue, at least with him.

He tried lots of different permutations – vibrator in the end, vibrator in top, two vibrators, one on each side, vibrators in both sides and one end… he spent a lot of money on vibrators and watermelons. A girl I knew demanded the immediate return of her toys when she found out what he’d been doing with them, which made us all wonder… she didn’t mind her vibrator being used by another person, but it bothered her that it was in a fruit? (Uh, so to speak…)

He got obsessive. He drew diagrams. He experimented with different sizes of vibrator, set for different pulse rates. He even took the vibrators apart, to see if he could alter the way they worked. It really was a classic bit of mad science… This is actually the point where I got involved: he asked me to rig the vibrators so that they could all be turned off and on with one switch.

I made the mistake of asking why he wanted this… and that’s how I discovered this entire weird and sordid tale. Aren’t you grateful?

A week later, he came back to me with a problem: the perfect vibratory rate for this particular brand of vibrator was when the batteries were about half dead. Could this somehow be simulated? I wound up finally wiring the things together with old Christmas lights and a toy-train transformer, so he could vary the flow of juice, so to speak, to whatever suited his, um, fancy.

I took extra special care with the soldering and insulation. Everything was waterproof by the time I was done with it. I’d learned my lesson well when it came to penises and electricity, you see… but that’s another story.

Finally, towards the end of that very odd summer, I recieved a very special invite on the answering machine. He’d apparently completed his experiments the previous day, and had mapped out the size and volume of the ideal melon, and the number and placement of vibrators to ensure maximum intensity.

The next day, he intended to have the …ultimate vegesexual experience. Would I like to come watch? There would be wine and cheese, and a hallucinogenics buffet. I wouldn’t be alone; he’d invited guests.

I kind of wanted to. I admit it. I thought about it. It was an extremely bizarre thing, and I did bizarre from time to time… but I had to work the next day… and somehow, the idea of skipping work to watch a guy screw a fruit somehow just wasn’t something I could reconcile to myself. That… and if bestiality was illegal, what would they do to you for screwing a vegetable? I could just see the local cops bursting in to grab some high-profile headlines…

…and then, there were his friends. I knew some of them, and many of them were SERIOUS weirdies. Hm, I thought, would the chick with the pierced nipples who liked to go topless be there, I wondered? Pierced nipples were a lot less common then, and she and I had hit it off pretty well at our first meeting…

…but if this was a party, then his friend who claimed to be married to his dog would likely be there, too, and for some reason, this guy seemed to think I was his friend. Last time we’d met, I’d learned more about dog plumbing than I ever wanted to know…

…I begged off.

Apparently, I missed quite an event. I heard about the happenings no less than five times the following week from assorted people who’d been there.

Our hero made quite the party out of it – open bar for guests, the promised buffet, complete with LSD and finger sandwiches, and he was answering the door in nothing but a pair of gold lame ballhuggers. In the kitchen, he’d duct-taped the melon to a large cutting board and braced it on the kitchen table.

When everyone was there… the festivities began, so to speak. He ditched the ballhuggers. Someone offered to “fluff” him, and he graciously agreed. Much arousal and amusement ensued, particularly since the fluffer was apparently a guy.

Finally… his manhood prepped and ready… he approached the cutting board.

The openings had been drilled, the vibrators inserted, the wiring arranged. I never saw this particular melon, mind you, but I can imagine it easily enough – his later experiments were so full of parts and wires, I’d taken to thinking of them as the BorgMelons…

He lubricated himself thoroughly… and entered the fruit.

The crowd watched breathlessly.

He switched on the vibrators. The air filled with the hum of fruit come alive… and the smell of an excited watermelon.

He groaned.

The crowd gasped.

He began to slowly stroke in and out of the melon.

His eyes rolled back. Plainly, he was feeling no pain.

The crowd began to get into it.

He thrust into the fruit, harder, deeper.

The crowd began to chant, “Go! Go! Go!”

He began to lose control, claimed by a raging passion.

A couple of the crowd ran forward, grabbed the table and board, stabilized it.Our hero slammed into the melon, harder, harder. The crowd moved closer, touched him, slapped his ass. They held the table steady. He moved, harder, faster…

…and then… something weird happened.

In truth, I guess it was my fault. I didn’t foresee it… but I should have. I’m the one who wired the vibrators to work in tandem, using Christmas lights for a model. I should have known that more than a dozen vibrators, all working off the same power source, might well fall into sync… and generate harmonic/sympathetic vibrations… which, in a semiliquid environment like the inside of an overripe watermelon… would generate positive feedback… increasing by the second. The guy’s dong whacking in and out wouldn’t help; in fact, it probably accelerated the end result.

The bottom line: just as our hero reached orgasm, the watermelon exploded, violently, showering our hero, the kitchen, and the less-than-innocent bystanders with… uh… “fruit salad”, so to speak. No one had noticed the increased throbbing vibrations due to Our Hero’s frantic thrusting.

The funny thing is, he didn’t consider it a failure. He said that it was the ultimate orgasm he’d had in his life up to that point.

I asked if he wanted me to rewire the vibrators so they wouldn’t do that again.

“No,” he said. He explained that he believed that the ever-increasing harmonics that had cause the melon to explode had also been the source of his ecstasy… and that he’d still been coming when the fruit detonated… and he was quite sure he could ravish a whole barnyard’s worth of watermelons without ever reaching that MegaNirvana again… because he knew he’d never again be able to get the TIMING just right…

:smack:

27

:eek:
I’ll never be able to watch one of Gallagher’s Sledge-O-Matic watermellon routines the same way ever again. I’ve been scarred for life, thank you very much.

28

well…I myself am not really into anything kinky. Like probably every guy here the kinky thing I’d like to try is groups (that identical twin suggestion someone made sounds intriguing) but I’ve never been able to find a willing 3rd person.

My last girlfriend had this major thing for slavery. I was her master for 4 months. She had to wear a collar and leash whenever we fooled around, and I had to punish her. I hated it…and it led to so many fights that it ruined our relationship.

29

Balderdash! Top early, top often! I mean, are you really trying to say that the third time that we… :wink:

The list gets boring after that, I’m just another happily married guy. I will say though that I do have a workshop and I know how to use it.

30

Wang-Ka, I can’t stop laughing!!!

31

Hm.

Maybe I shood’na posted.

I mean, it wasn’t like I was the one doing the kinky stuff. I was just the, um, electrician…

32

Oh, my God, Wang-Ka. I want to roll around laughing… but then I remember this is a true story…

33

RedFury - Ah, that clarifies a bit what you are asking for. Actually, I was mainly responding to Mirrored Indigo Shadows’ post where she commented

and wanted to point out that at least one other person didn’t find it unusual.

Let me see if I can explain my feelings here. First, I think a lot of it relates to your comment

I think this is a significant point. To me, doing something “kinky” or allowing something “kinky” to be done to you is a way of saying to the other person “I feel close enough to you/trust you enough/respect you enough that I will do something I am not normally comfortable with doing for you/with you”. Or, maybe a better way to say it is “I feel safe with you.” You are opening up yourself a bit more to the other person than you would normally to other people, which leads to a stronger sense of intimacy with the other person. This leads to a stronger emotional response to go with the purely physical response of “normal” sex, which in turn leads to a better overall experience.

To be a bit more specific, using my comments earlier (light bondage) when I was on the receiving end, I was putting myself in an (admittedly controlled) helpless situation. I was putting a great deal of faith and trust in my partner and showing her that in a very obvious, physical way; much moreso than simply telling her that. I found it very enjoyable as well, as by putting myself in that position I could stop worrying about things like “am I doing good for her” and could simply enjoy the experience for what it was. I could also appreciate what she was doing for me more; everything was suddenly something she was doing for me.

In return, when it was my turn on top, I appreciated the position she had put herself in and knew that she had that level of trust in me and worked harder to make sure I deserved that level of trust.

So, I’ve shared and indulged in a few of my fantasies, have shared a few others that haven’t been acted on and one or two have remained my hidden secrets. :smiley:

Now, let me see if I can answer your queston

Following what I was saying above, I see this as an intimacy/trust issue. The fact that my wife doesn’t want to do some of the things I would like would lead me to think that perhaps she doesn’t want that level of intimacy with me or perhaps doesn’t trust me. Now, if this were the only disconnect we were having then I would not see it as a major problem; after all, as you hinted at earlier, most of us have been conditioned to see certain things as “wrong” or “unacceptable” and some people have more trouble getting past that than others. Unfortunately, in my case, we are having other problems as well… but that’s an unrelated MPSIMS-type issue that I won’t go into here. So, I guess I’m saying that normally the unwillingness of my partner to go along with some things wouldn’t be a dealbreaker/reason to leave but in this case I think it is indiciative of other problems in the relationship.

Hope this makes sense and is closer to what you are looking for. Feel free to ask if it isn’t.

34

Hmmm. Now, some of my online cohorts would have liked Wang-Ka’s story – but only the end result, where he and several party guests were splattered by the watermelon.

:smiley:

35

I addressed this topic a bit in the OP. For me a certain amount of kinkiness has become de rigueur. However, I think the salient point is, how do you know how important a certain fantasy could be if you’ve never actually tried it. That’s why I agreed your post last night – experimenting and having fun with sex can lead to any number of other discoveries about yourself. Ultimately, I think the more you know who you are, down to the most intimate details, the more secure you’re likely too feel. Or, at the very least, frustration won’t enter the equation.

**

Thank you for sharing all the same. I can picture in my mind’s eye how that could translate into a beautiful scene. Do you have any qualms about telling your current/future partner about it?

XJETGIRLX writes:

**

First off, thanks for ‘daring’ to post, I think I understand how sensitive this whole topic can be to many people. As for anyone giving you grief, at least in this thread, it won’t happen. We can either ignore them or simply report to a mod if they get too preachy – but so far so good. No worries.

As for the rest of your experiences and desires, two points. For one, you hit the nail right on the head (inadvertently?) when you bring up the word trust. That, along with respect, are, to me, the foundation of any relationship. As for the second, when you mention an “all out D/s relationship” do keep in mind that the only limits to D/s are those you set with your partner – there’s really no ‘typical’ or ‘right’ way to do it outside of safe, sane, and consensual. I bring that up because I think most people have a distorted idea of what D/s really is. I put a lot of the blame in the media (Hollywood) for all the false portrayals of the scene. Not to mention the slew of wanna be doms and subs – who are just predators looking for easy lays.

Don’t really know what you mean by “sorting the healthy desires from the trauma…” but I take it you have some emotional baggage you need to unpack. And that’s a good sign, IMHO. People that venture into kink in lieu of facing themselves first, usually end up getting hurt worse.

Best of luck to you.

Not much I can say about MelonGate. However, the story has opened up a whole slew of possibilities I never knew were there. Cucumbers and bananas? Bah! I need to get me some melons!

36

Will try to respond to the other posters a bit later tonight. But now, I’m off to the supermarket! :wink:

37

Am I the only one who wants to know about

Ummm Wang-Ka?
Back to me. Only one of my partners didn’t ‘get’ my favorite kink. (no I won’t tell you but it has not been mentions here) With her we explored other areas and it turned out she liked being photographed as long as I could make her look good, which I was very suprised that I could.

Ahhhh good times.

I don’t think I could do just vanilla sex for any sort of extended period. It may be a deal breaker if my partner was really opposed to ‘playing’ or didn’t have any imagination.

38

Oh, I’m sorry. I posted a thread around here somewhere having to do with penises and electricity… well, actually, about penises and dog bites, but… um… oh, hell, here it is:

Penises are the very root of manhood, so to speak… mighty, yet vulnerable… seductive, yet faintly ridiculous. You hear a lot about “phallic imagery”, but how much do you hear about “vaginal imagery?” Ancient Athens, the pillar of civilization, was decorated with little statues of Hermes and his erect penis… located on street corners for good luck. Men are obsessed with their dicks, for the most part. I try not to be so predictable about it, but I’m a guy, too.

One of the worst things I ever saw happen to a guy was in high school, when a friend of mine participated in the vandalizing of a Sonic-Drive-In. He made the mistake of peeing into the little speaker you order your food through. The electrical arc traveled up the stream and practically fried the poor guy’s tallywhacker. He said it was like being kicked in the nuts while plugging your dick into a power socket. What was worse… he told us the next day at school… his dick didn’t seem to work any more.

He was scared. I didn’t blame him. To have your dick suddenly cease to function at age 16 is like … like… shit, I don’t know. A disaster, certainly. The next day he reported it still didn’t work, despite hours of priming with Penthouse magazines. He could pee through it… but that was about it.

Day three: still nothing. He was badly frightened… his brother had theorized that he’d shorted out some important nerves, or something. Would it ever work again? He was debating going to the doctor, even if it meant admitting who’d vandalized the Sonic…

Day four: He came to school laughing, his heart had wings again. Life was good again. Apparently, the poor thing was just traumatized, that’s all. He reported no less than four successful launchings the previous night, with and without photographic assistance. All was well… but it was a lesson none of us ever forgot…

…but I digress. My own experience with the sacredness of the penis came when I lived with Tiny Alice. Alice had just broken up with her boyfriend and was in the usual “men are pigs” phase that seems to go after that.
She had two dogs, a little yappy thing that looked like a mop with feet… and a small bulldog-looking animal.

It wasn’t EXACTLY a bulldog… I don’t remember what it was. Its name was Corky, and it may have been the stupidest vertebrate I’ve ever encountered. It was rabidly affectionate, energetic as a mongoose on speed, and had a tongue bigger than my entire head. When you entered the door it would tear through the house, run directly towards you, run UP your body, and lick you two or three times on the face before gravity took over and it fell back to the floor. If you fell down, ghod help you – before you could scramble back to your feet, you’d be sopping with dog spit.

Corky, like I said, was not a smart dog. Tiny Alice never completely succeeded in housebreaking it… all Corky ever quite managed to learn was that you should NEVER let a human CATCH you taking a shit. If you saw Corky crapping somewhere and Corky spotted you, Corky would rip into Tiny Alice’s bedroom and hide under the bed. If you tried to get the dog out, the dog would bite the hell out of you.

I tried to play “fetch” with Corky once. I tossed a tennis ball into the kitchen. Corky rip-assed after the ball, caught up with the ball, snapped up the ball in his mouth, tried to stop, skitterskitterskitter on the tile, trying desperately to hit the brakes… POW, headfirst into the refrigerator… stagger back into the living room, drop the ball at my feet… We did this four or five times before I realized that the dog was too stupid to NOT do this…

…but like I said, Tiny Alice had broken up with her boyfriend, which I thought was a good thing… the guy was a shitheel. She was heartbroken for a while, but she got over it. One day, I came home and found her playing a game with Corky… a game we might well call “bite the weenie”. It involved holding a frankfurter about three feet off the floor, and holding it more or less parallel to the floor… and wiggling it. If Corky would leap up and bite the weenie in half, he got to eat the weenie.

…does anyone see where this is going?

I shooda. I’d just gotten out of the shower. Alice was at work, so I’d left the bathroom door open, to let out the steam. I’d been thinking interesting thoughts while in the shower… I don’t remember what about, but I do remember having a serious erection as I got out and dried myself off.

About then, I noticed Corky. Corky was sitting in the doorway, studying me. Specifically, Corky was studying my TINKUS. Corky cocked his head, quizzically… gazed for a second…

…and then leaped.

The penis is made of spongy tissue, fortunately; I understand some bulldogs can crush bone with their jaws. Believe it. I screamed, danced around, hit the dog, yanked my dick, and finally spun around in place, still screaming like a cat caught in a vaccuum cleaner, hoping the dog would be shaken off by the centrifugal force or something. I don’t pretend I was rational at this point; there was a dog trying to bite my dick in half, y’know.

At this point, the door opened, and Tiny Alice walked in.

She saw her naked hairy roommate screaming and jumping up and down and spinning in circles with a dog clamped on his dick.

Naturally, her first thought was for the dog’s safety. She promptly attacked me.

We called her Tiny Alice for a reason, though – she was maybe five feet and eighty pounds, dripping wet. It wasn’t until I heard her screaming “DON’T HURT MY DOG!!!” in my ear that I realized she was on my back, one arm locked around my throat. I hadn’t noticed her. Of course, I was kind of distracted…

I ignored her and kept jumping up and down and whacking the dog. She reciprocated by trying to choke me, but she couldn’t quite get her arm all the way around my neck. She tried biting me, but I was much too interested in the other creature biting me for this to have much effect. Finally, she was reduced to yelling in my ear, which was about as painful… and as effective… as the other forms of assault she’d tried.

This whole thing probably went on for two or three minutes.

Finally, Corky realized that this weenie just wasn’t gonna give as easily as the Oscar Meyer ones had, and let go. With the clamp gone, my erection instantly deflated. I cradled my poor dick in my hands, afraid to look at it. I was quite certain the dog’s teeth had perforated it like a machinegun barrel, and I’d have to finger it like a piccolo if I ever wanted to pee straight again…

… but when I looked at it… it was okay. The dog’s teeth hadn’t penetrated.

Tiny Alice, who was still on my back, looked over my shoulder with some interest.

I carefully examined it. There were some bruises where the teeth had been. I carefully examined the underside. It seemed OK there, too… and I squeezed it experimentally.

A drop of blood oozed out of the end.

I lost my fucking mind.

I went after the dog, fully intending to tear it apart like a fried chicken. The dog, not being THAT stupid, promptly fled under Alice’s bed.

I went under the bed after the dog.

The dog bit me.

I leaped to my feet, grabbed the bed, and tossed it across the room.

The dog promptly ran into the living room and shot under the couch.

I ran after it, grabbed the couch, and tossed it into the kitchen.

The dog looked at me. I’ve never seen a dog look horrified, before or since that day.

Corky ran into the bathroom, where all the furniture was attached to the floor and I couldn’t possibly pick it up… and it was already in there before it realized that there was nothing to hide under in there.

I had the dog cornered in the bathtub when I paused due to the splitting pain in my head.

Alice was still on my back and had been screaming in my ear the whole time. She’d finally resorted to trying to rip it off with her teeth, Mike-Tyson-style. Ironically, she wound up drawing more blood than the dog did.

I did not kill the dog.

My dick was sore for a day or two, but never lost function. It still works fine, by the way.

Y’know, it occurs to me that none of this post has anything to do with kinky sex.

I apologize for the digression.

Please, everyone, carry on with the kinky sex…

39

[kurtz]
the horror,

the horror
[/kurtz]

40

Let’s just say there was a restraining order involved, but it’s not exactly a cut and dry issue of fault. I’m still trying to decide if there was a lesson to be learned or not, but it’s best left at that.