Can’t hardly wait

I’m not sure if it comes across in the tone of my writing or not, but when I mention my disinclination to enter the scene, or my trepidation about jumping into the lifestyle, or even just explaining my desires to a future girlfriend, I’m trying to convince myself as much as anyone else.

It first clicked for me that I was submissive, and that I wanted a dominant about a year ago. All my various lifelong fantasies and inclination lined  up like an arrow pointing me straight at a lifestyle just out of reach. Good thing too, that I couldn’t just dive in, because when it hit me, it hit me hard.

Fitting that it sounds like a combo from Mortal Kombat, because I can definitely say Sub-frenzy packs a punch.

For weeks after my realization, I thought about being dominated constantly. Literally constantly, (I hate the pervasive misuse of the the word literally, so when I say it, know that I mean it.)

I would close my eyes and almost, almost be able to feel the lash.

Going about my day, I might have my breath catch in my throat as I inadvertently imagined someone who loved me, locking my collar into place.

I don’t remember being so single minded about anything else in my entire life.

Except maybe, age of empires when I was nine, and I got the game for my birthday, but we didn't get a computer that could run it for like six months.

Now, I’m not gonna say that freshly minted submissiveness need someone to look out for them because they’re like baby deer, barely able to walk, let alone fend for themselves. I handled it, I’m still doing fine.

…But, there were days when I didn’t care if it was a mistake, or that I’d do something I’d later regret, I just wanted, (want) so badly to be dominated. I could go on and on about the desire to be under a woman’s control, but I don’t want you to get the idea I’m obsessed or something.

One of the reasons I was able to avoid making any potentially regrettable mistakes, is I’ve already made enough that I know when I’m likely to make another.

My first kiss, for example, happened when I was thirteen. I didn’t yet have the intense acne that would be my bane during highschool, I did have Green hair styled into a Faux-hawk. I was at a youth rally with my middle school youth group.

The words youth rally to me, sound vaguely sinister, so let me explain, that we bused from Bellingham down to Seattle to some convention center for the afternoon, where one side of the building was live Christian Rock music and the other side was inflatable bouncy castles and things of that nature.

What this had to do with Jesus I can't remember.

I met, Sarah, I think that was her name, she liked my green hair and I liked hanging out with girls more than Christian rock or bouncy castles. I remember that I spent most of the day with her and her friend and when it was time to pack up and go her friend said “aren’t you going to kiss goodbye?” So we did, parted lips, no tongue, her breath was less than magical.

She wrote her number on the back of my hand, but I was worried my mom would see it and I smudged it away.

My relationship with K, snatched up more than it’s share of my other firsts. No need to go into it again, but I’m not happy that there are things that I will do with my wife someday that I’ll be able to compare against memories of the girl who kicked my heart in the ass.

I’m being perhaps overly cautious when it comes to my exploration of D/s. Still though, I can keenly feel the desire to just lose myself in it straining against my will. That’s on top of the already considerable sexual appetite I’m already, holding back. I don’t want my future firsts to turn out like my old ones, either huge disappointments, or attached to unhappy memories.

I have days, (like today) where everything puts me in mind of BDSM. I can’t even watch TV with my roommates without slipping into a kinky reverie in my mind. The bad guy on the new procedural we were watching was talking about strangling his first victim and I couldn’t stop thinking about how I wanted to try that -Uh, being strangled – er choked, not murdering someone.

It would be so easy to blow this too, I want it so bad. Except, there is something I want more: I want the first woman I kneel for, to also be the last.