Sex

by Nix Winter

I love sex.

I mean.. who doesn’t, given an unbiased, non-judgmental option to answer that question.

I can sit here at my desk, lick my finger and run it over my lower lip, just thinking about the possibility of being touched by another human being, being desired, and a shiver goes through me, rippling sensation, pleasure before pleasure even happens.

Now we’re complicated creatures, humans. We’ll screw ourselves over even when we’re trying not to.

This one immediate moment gets lost in meanings and the future and the past, and that which should be just delicious becomes the specter of what we fear or desire and sometimes it’s hard to know which is which.

I imagine there are people for which sex is simple. Tab A into Slot B or C, or M, and it’s all good, all happy, and who cares what shadows are just beyond. When I try to get my mind around that – I just can’t do it.

Maybe there are just too many shadows, too many knots around sexuality for me.

Shall I tell you another secret?

BDSM has been my kink for getting around those shadows and knots for years. I could submit or resist, as the case may be, and my Dom is still the focus holding me in the present – I got back to that unfiltered sensation like when I traced my finger across my lip… just sensation.

I’ve been trying to figure out how to get to that sensation bit, without the kink bit, for a long time. Not that I don’t like kink, cuz I do, but I don’t want to be limited.

I imagine sexuality being a language, like a dance maybe, between people.  You know what I like even more than pleasurable physical sensation? I like feeling connected to someone. I like being seen for who I am and accepted. Now this is a kind of new concept, at least to me.  I’m much more used to giving someone sexuality, and hoping for tolerance and acceptance in return, like I could pay for love with pleasure. I guess I do the same with my books… it really stifles me. I need money > I put sex into the story > I expect people to buy the book.

From the moment that I first encountered this idea of knowing and being known… it’s grown into a craving. To pair knowing with touching, sensation with knowledge… that is getting to be my new kink.

Though… kink itself kind of squashes this genuine knowing, in a way. It doesn’t always have to be a squash… just sometimes, if it’s more script than seduction.

For me, kink was about rules, in a way. Those rules gave me safety when coming out of a very abusive past. Now rules just feel like a way not to know me, to distance me from the interaction.  Rules, expectations….  When I was a little kid, I’d find some interaction or pleasant event… and I’d seriously try to make it happen again. I’d day dream about wanting the teacher to say I did a good job again, exactly like she’d just done. I’d want some other kid to say hi to me again, like if that couldn’t happen just like it had, I’d never get anything good again.

I’m not a little kid anymore.

Every day is new and different. The sensation that appealed yesterday might not be the flavor for today.

I want to live forever.

Did I mention?

In forever, I expect there will be a lot of growth, change, exploration. Today, the world looks bright and full of wonderful potential for great sexual experience! No rules. No script. Happening when it happens.