So, starting off on the backlog of things I want to write about:
Did you know that the brilliant and enchanting ProfessorChaos (Domme, Scientist, and one half of the authorship of Labcoats and Lingerie) has made her home in Seattle? I even got to meet her! (Pretty cool, am I right?)
I’ve met a couple of my fellow bloggers and readers now, and it’s always a treat to get to connect with someone who “gets it” face to face. I don’t really get to experience that otherwise, even when I’ve been to munches (possibly because we don’t have an F/m only munch.)
Anyway, Chaos and I hit it off, and I invited her to come check out the local TNG munch in a few weeks, since I was already going to be escorting another friend to her first munch. My friend couldn’t make it but Chaos and I went and checked it out anyways.
It’d had been long enough since I’d bothered going to a munch that I was asked frequently if it was my first time. We talked to loads of nerdy people about kinky stuff, or kinky people about nerdy stuff. Checked out the scene, hung around for a bit, had some tacos and then later cupcakes.
We were getting to know each other, and I’d share some story about the church camp that I worked at or maybe my old youth group or something, and she’d always laugh about how “cute” that was and then apologising for thinking that my religiosity, or innocence, or “goody-two-shoes-iness” was kind of hot and corruptible. Which I totally don’t mind because as I realized, (and have just gotten around to writing about) I basically kink on my own imminent corruptibility.
While I was always a “good boy” growing up, I had lots of interest in, and crushes on “bad girls” and older girls. Girls who talked and joked and did things that I’d never done. I loved the vicarious thrill, even if it came at the cost of some blushing and embarrassment on my part (I might’ve even enjoyed that bit as well, since I certainly like it now.)
I feel like even play up my wholesomeness when I can because it feels like vulnerability. I’m not really all that good, I’m only technically virginal, but still, something about my slight naivete allows me to feel like prey at the hands of D-type women.
I also dress the part, a bit. Or at least I intend for my appearance to be clean cut and innocent looking, so that me on my knees, face stained with tears, gagging on a silicone cock, would feel like a delicious victory. (I don’t know if it comes across or not, but I hope it does anyway.)
I still seek out the sense of embarrassment and naughtiness that came from hanging out with older girls, from being the least experienced, or the least adventurous one in the room. Even now, when it’s less likely to be the case, I like it a lot. I like to feel like if I’d just go with it, I could be taught a thing or two.