Main | Tuesday, July 26, 2005

Kinky, Kinkier, Kinkiest

What does "kinky" mean anymore?

Thanks to the internet, we've all been educated about a staggeringly broad array of sexual practices, stuff that in pre-web days was mostly only known to devotees and their often caught-by-surprise partners. In today's world, even a soccer mom might be familiar with fisting or furries or autoerotic asphyxiation.

I've been wondering if this avalanche of kink visibility might be eroding some of its erotic appeal. How much of the thrill is in the secrecy, the underground vibe, the sense of uniqueness? When cross-dressing straight guys can shop for their lacy panties and size 18 stilettos on hundreds of websites, do they still feel like a naughty little girl? Does having access to millions of images of people doing "forbidden" things make them feel not-forbidden, and therefore not erotic? Or has the internet just decloaked the kinkster that is in us all, giving us a window into a world of experiences that we would never have imagined, yet are intrigued by?

As I've done in earlier posts, I sent out a call for help to some of my fellow bloggers, this time asking them to reveal a kinky encounter and how they handled it. I left the definition of "kinky" up to them, because I was interested in just what "kinky" might mean to them. Their responses are sometimes digusting, sometimes hilarious, but always interesting. So what follows are the kinkiest, by their definition, experiences of my blogging pals, as we hear from 19 gay men, one straight man, one straight woman, and one "bi-dyke". A few of them have asked that I shield their identities, the others have no shame.

Anonymous 1 @ blog name withheld

The first time we had sex, he put my hands on his head when he was getting close to coming...nothing strange there, right? I held his head as he fucked into me---one hand on each side, over his ears---and he came. The next time we had sex, he put my hands up there as he was getting closer, and I rubbed my hands all over his head again, and he came. Again, normal, right? The third time, he put my hands up there, and I put one hand on top of his head and another around the back of his neck.

He stopped thrusting for a second, looked very seriously at me, and said: "You've got to touch my ears."

"Huh?" I asked. "Touch my ears and I'll come," he said.

I slid my hands around to his ears. With nary an auxillary thrust....POP!


Anonymous 2 @ blog name withheld

One time when a friend (okay, fuckbuddy) was staying with me for a few days. One night, we'd gone out for a few drinks. When we got home, I fell asleep (okay, passed out) on the couch. He apparently was extremely horny. He tried to wake me, but once I'm out, I'm out. He's a persistent boy, so he proceeded to find a way to fill his needs (okay, ass). When I woke up the next morning, I was still on the couch. He saw me stirring.

"Good morning, sweetie," he said.

"Morning," I grumbled.

"Thank you for last night," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I hope you don't mind, but I took the liberty of pleasuring myself. With your help."

Dumbfounded, I looked down and saw my boxers intact. "Wow, I can't believe you got me hard. I was out like a light."

"Well," he paused, "it wasn't that."

"Huh?"

It was then that I noticed him staring at the arm of the couch--or rather, at my foot pointing straight in the air resting there.

"Oh. Ohhhh. Hmm, well I'm glad I could help."


Anonymous 3 @ blog name withheld

When I was at IML in 1999, I met a very handsome leatherman in the lobby of the Congress Hotel. We flirted and exchanged a short verbal list of certain practices that we enjoyed, as is traditional in these situations. He asked me if I was into "torture", and I said that while I hadn't experienced it much, I'd be open to exploring anything that didn't leave me with any marks on my body.

And with that, we were off to the elevators and up to his room. Before I knew it, he had me naked and tied facedown on his bed, spread-eagled. He darkened the room and lit a small candle on the nightstand. He went into the bathroom and it sounded like he was changing his clothes in there.

He came back out and stared down at me, "Are you ready?"

I nodded.

Then he reached under the bed and pulled out a large, square piece of plywood. He moved the wood around on the floor next to the bed until it was in a position that satisfied him, then he stood on the center of it.

And then he started tap dancing.

I laid there helplessy for about 20 minutes while this guy tap danced on that piece of wood. There was no music. There was no touching. When he stopped, I asked to be untied, which he did, and I left immediately.

And yes, it WAS torture.


RJ @ Daily Blaque (note from Joe: RJ is straight)

Nobody has ever asked me to do anything kinky, I thought as I read your request. Then I remembered that, at Scout camp, the kid in the bunk below me tried to convince me that the penis is naturally the cleanest part of the body. I thought about it, but remained unconvinced. Who knows what would have happened if he hadn't presented it in quite that way?


Brian @ Faggoty-Ass Faggot

Maybe I'm not easily surprised, or am a kinky whore, because at first I couldn't think of one thing that I had been asked to do, that I didn't consider. (Although, even though I live in northeast Ohio, no one has yet asked me for a Cleveland Steamer.) Then I remembered the night a guy chatted me up online, telling me I was hot, but then asking if I wore glasses. Turns out the only way he would hook up with me was if I showed up sans contacts and with my spectacles. The bigger the glasses, the better.

I decided that was way freaky and turned him down.


Farmboyz @ Perge Modo

One evening in Montreal I agree to go home with a man named Marc who had shaggy dark hair and the long skinny jeans of a country singer. When we got to his place, a floor through in an old townhouse, I learn he is an artist fixated on large shards of mirror glass which were leaned against the walls of every room.

Naked, we are sitting on his bed facing each other. He leans over to the headboard and selects a leather lace from aheap of them that are draped there. He ties up his dick very neatly. Another lace ties up his balls. A third crisscrosses the whole businessmaking it look like the kind of lanyard we all made during summer arts-and-crafts classes. He selects another lace and asks if he can apply it to my dick. Why not, I think, it's just a harmless piece of string, and we are afterall in Montreal (Don't ask. It made no sense.)

Several strings later, my dick and balls are macramed to match his. Then he makes me sit thigh over thigh in front of him and, mashing our dicks together, he uses more laces to bind them together. The patterns he creates are intricate and fascinating. Our dicks are hard, but slightly blue, when he decides that he wants to inhale some poppers. The bottle is a few feet away on top of the dresser. He can't reach it. What to do. We finally devise a sort of synchronized hopping that bounces us over to that edge of the bed, but he is still unable to reach the bottle. One final big bounce sends us off the mattress and onto the floor. As we are falling, I catch my reflection in a large shard of mirror and I wonder how the headlines describing this death scene will read.


Lee @ Glitter For Brains

Now. I know what I like. I like my gentlemen proud, ready, and able to leave me with an arse like a bill-poster's bucket. Any unnecessary flim-flam leaves me completely puzzled. Bondage? Well maybe. But leave a hand free so I can flick through the spring/summer collection.

Anyway, there was one time in my life when I was seeing a gentleman caller who had a Very High Opinion of himself - never more so, it seemed, when he called me over to his house for my 'Christmas Present Fantasy'.

The hints I'd dropped about a trip to Paris were as subtle as a Cher stageshow, but what I got when I opened the door was him lying naked on a rubber sheet, his gentlemanly area draped in tinsel, as he started pouring cream over himself and moaning. The moaning lead to writhing, interspersed with a 'Merry Christmas, you hot stud' or two.

What did I do? I bit my hand to stop laughing, and thought that I may as well give it a go. Although all I got for my troubles was a chance to be picking tinsel out of my crevices and smelling like off-milk for three days afterwards. I felt like a gay cheese shop. Never, ever again.


Homer @ Homer's World

I was asked to show up at a guy's house wearing my boots and white socks and unwashed feet. The guy, a 24-yr-old in the air force, wanted me to spank him and then rub my feet over his face. Afterwards he was offended when I burst out laughing at how ludicrous it was. I support our troops!


Joe @ Joe.My.God.

At a Fort Lauderdale bathhouse, I was having hot sweaty sex with handsome bodybuilder, when at the worst possible moment while I was fucking him, he looked up at me with a strange expression on his face.

In a small voice, he said, "I want to be....your... baby."

Instinctively, I knew that he didn't mean "baby" in the Barry White "Just Can't Get Enough Of Your Love Baby" sense. He meant baby, in the Paul Anka "Having My Baby" sense. For a moment I considered jumping off him and leaving, but my curiousity won out.

"You can be my baby," I said.

His eyes widened, "I can? Really? You're not freaked out?"

"Um, not yet."

He told me how being treated like a baby was very soothing to him, how it made him feel safe and protected and loved. So rather than bolting, I cuddled him and cooed baby talk in his ear while he gurgled and made baby noises. I picked his bath towel off the floor and wrapped him in it, diaper style. We laid there curled into a ball together and he snuggled against me happily.

Before I left to resume my cruising, he told me that I'd made him a very happy baby.


Jim @ Jimbo.Info

Someone once asked me to force poppers on him. Like feed him as much as I wanted without limit. I tried, but when his breath started smelling like spray paint I had to stop. Then the stink wouldn't go away so I had to leave, as I'm not into spray paint mansmells.


John @ Johnny Is A Man

I once tricked with this HOT Mexican who kept biting me...not the hot little love bites, but seriously BITING ME on the chest, arm, etc. I asked him several times to stop, and he would, for a few minutes, then it would start up again. Finally, he actually bit me on the cheek (upper face area, not the hoo-hah). HARD. Like, ready to draw blood, hard. I was so pissed off, I slugged him as hard as I could in his sternum. He gasped for air, coughing.

"Sorry," I said. "I'm into heavy breath control."


Lady Bunny @ LadyBunny.net

I used to work on a phone sex line as a woman. (It's easy for me to "pass" when they can't see me.) I had a regular caller who would always request to speak with me because he liked the way I indulged his scat fantasy--and I ain't talkin' jazz! So I got quite creative and one day was telling him "OK, my ass cheeks are spread wide open in front of your hungry mouth and I've got a surprise for you!"

He slobbered, pantingly and about to come, "Yes, mistress!"

And I said "I've got diarrhea!"

He stopped cold and said "Hard turd only."

So specific--these fetish freaks!


Leanne @ Liliane, Bi-Dyke

You want to know the most kinky thing I've been asked and I don't even know.

Despite being in the kink community here for years, I dunno. I have been asked to dunk a guy's head in the toilet and fist him (I was topping him as a sort of "cash gift" deal, not for the love of him) and I refused... way beyond my technical abilities even if I wanted to. But I wasn't "icked"...

I think that it comes down to my first boyfriend when I was 15, who used to go "let me pick your nose, let me pick your nose" while holding his finger up threateningly in front of my face. I dunno. I have had strangers fuck me in the butt, I have had cuttings, I have played with fire, I have gone to a weird evangelist church meeting as a voyeur with my girlfriend, dressed in thrift shop flowered dresses wearing hiking boots, and cut said flowered dress off her with a knife afterwards, but nothing has icked me like the idea of his (or anyone's) finger up my nostrils. And I even pick my nose myself all the time. Lay off the nose.


Jake @ NoFo

I’ve had the requisite requests to do scat and piss (didn’t do it and didn’t do it, for the record), and I had one guy dress me up in his rubber chaps (which made my sad little butt actually look perky) before he’d bump uglies, but the kinkiest, weirdest, wrongest thing that ever happened to me was last summer when I was having a date with a hunky little blond who lived a couple blocks away from me. He had a lean runner’s build with meaty legs, a tiny waist and a killer smile. And he was blond, which always clouds my judgment. I was up for anything when he appeared at my door that night in a tight T-shirt and flip-flops. And as we’re flirting on my couch before what I anticipate will be a long night of sweaty hedonism, he suddenly asks me if I would ... um ... uh .. (this is kind of hard to get out) ... He suddenly asks me if I would support George W. Bush in the upcoming election. Some guys are too fucking weird to live.


Paul @ No Milk

I once dated this hot Marine who had a serious stuttering problem. We could barely hold a conversation. It would literally take a minute for him to finish one sentence. But I dated him, because it's what's inside that counts right? And what's inside his pants was a 10" thick motherfucker.

This is where the weirdness/kinkiness comes in. When we're having sex, he does not stutter at all. Not one bit. While we were having sex, he wanted to talk talk talk about books he read, movies he's seen, where the lint in his navel comes from. Anything. It's like he had all these words pent up and it all gushed out. I would've obliged except that it's hard to have a conversation when you have a huge Marine cock in your mouth. Ironic really. He can't talk when we're not having sex, I can't talk when we're having sex. This went on for about two months, until he dumped me.

It took him about thirty minutes to say "It-tttt-tthhhh-thhinkkk www-www-wwessh-ssh-ssh-shoulddd bbe jj-jjjust-tt ff-ff-friends"

It was very humiliating for me because I knew what he was going to say after "I ttt--". I was just trying to be polite. It's true what they say about communicating in a relationship. You really got to work at it. I know what I would do next time: learn sign language. Then it wouldn't matter if my mouth was full of cock.


Colin @ Planet CH

I once (sorta) dated this guy who had a very wild mane of hair, which earned him the nickname of Simba (as in the Lion King, all grown up). Anyway, Mister Simba gave me quite a surprise the first time we had sex -- as he was about to climax, he told me to pull on his "mane," then he let out a bellowing roar, just like a lion. He totally became somebody else. I didn't know if I had just had an experience with bestiality or not.


Erik @ Robocub

Back in the mid 90s I used to work in an office in Hoboken, NJ. There were only two offices on our floor, but basically a small compliment of male employees between both companies. And then of course there was one incredibly hot FedEx guy who would come around every now and then. There was one bathroom shared for each gender on the floor. It consisted of one urinal and one toilet stall, which was next to a window with drawn blinds. I used to go in there sometimes when I was horny. T hat used to happen often as I was in my mid to late 20s at the time. So I'd go in the toilet stall and jerk off thinking of anyone, maybe the super hot FedEx guy. I'd cum in a tissue, since I dared not leave any residue for anyone to find. Like I said, there were only a few guys on the floor.

Well one day I go in to actually use the toilet for it's intended purpose. I sit down and I look at the window sill to my right and what do I see but a huge gob of cum which is literally dripping off the ledge onto the floor. It was so surreal and I had to wonder if I was dreaming or not. But it was real. I mean this was a huge gob and it couldn't have been there very long since it was still wet. I got so horny looking at it and wondering who could've possibly jerked off and left this cum here. So I started to jerk off. I even imagined licking it up. And I definitely imagined it was the FedEx guy and I was blowing him. Just looking at the gob of cum got me so riled up and horny, I shot my load in the toilet in under a minute.

I still tell this story to friends and everyone is shocked as much as I was. But it was real and I'm glad I had the experience. How often does one use an office rest room and see a huge spooge laying there?

Stellina @ Sabred Tongue

I was sitting here thinking about all the times I have had sex, and almost all those times were sickeningly vanilla. Then I remembered my stint of selling women's underwear on eBay.

My friend told me about her friend who was selling cigar boxes on eBay, and she got a client who bought a cigar box from her, then asked her for her picture. Thinking nothing of it, she sent out her face, and the man asked her if she had any underwear that she'd like to sell. She soon found out that selling women's underwear was MUCH more profitable than cigar boxes, and of course, me being the lazy ass I am... I went to Wal Mart, bought 3 pairs of womens lacy thongs for 2 dollars clearance... and I set up my own eBay account.

I got a bid from a man named Olin. He offered 10 dollars for the purple thong. When the auction was done, Olin was the only one there, so I sent him an e-mail thanking him for his purchase. I got a response back, and he said "I hope the underwear has male DNA on them".

I thought... male dna, what the hell is he talking about. And that was my reply. He responded by saying that he hoped he wasn't being offensive, but he would give me 5 dollars extra if I had sex in that thong, and let the man spunk on the thong, because when he got the thong to his house, he wanted to suck on the spunk spot.

SO... I asked my husband if he minded. Being the money hungry bastard he is, we set about doing the deed that night. I sent the thong off the next morning, and I put a new pair on eBay. At the end of the auction, I got a bid from Olin. 10 dollars. He got the purple pair and loved them up. This time, he asked me... would I send a used condom with the panties. 10 dollars extra. And so we did. I can't imagine a person who wants to gobble cold cum out of a used condom, I just can't. I can't even imagine someone doing it fresh off the rod. I stopped using eBay because they hit my checking account when the account was empty, but I still have Olin's e-mail info. He bought a Gates of Hell (5 gates) from me after the condom thing, and I haven't heard from him since.


Faustus @ Search For Love

Oh, my. The kinkiest thing I was ever asked to do was shit in somebody's mouth. The request came over AIM--I believe there were capital letters involved ("SHIT in my MOUTH") but memory may be playing me false here. I demurred, and moments later he asked how I'd feel about at least coming over to his place, shitting in the toilet, not wiping, and then letting him rim me.

I never ended up meeting him.


Chad @ Stop Touching My Food

Nestor was a photographer, and one day he asked me if I'd like to pose for him during sex.

"Sure," I said, and he got an evil smile on his face.

"We need to get some props," he said, and started digging through his closet. He produced a pair of handcuffs, some rope, and a blindfold. He instructed me to take off my shirt, then proceeded to tie my hands behind my back before telling me to lie on the floor. My ankles were then handcuffed together, and I was blindfolded.

"I'll be right back," he said.

I was lying there, a bit nervous, a bit excited. I hadn't done anything like this before. I heard him come back up the stairs, and come in the room.

"Hi Nestor," I said. He didn't respond, but I heard his 35mm camera click a few times. He put it down, and I heard him messing around with a plastic bag. Suddenly, two cold and slimy discs slapped on my chest over my nipples.

"First, you need some tits,'" said Nestor. Turns out, he put two slices of bologna on my chest.

"Huh?" I asked, before he took his bandana off his head and gagged me with it.

"No talking." I heard him get something else. "Now you're going to have a vagina."

He undid my shorts, pulled them down a bit, took some Reddi-Wip, and made a triangular patch in my crotch.

"Mmmf!" It was cold!

"No 'mmfing' here, I'm not done." He then strategically placed some pickles all over my chest, then ungagged me. I heard him pick something up, then place it back down. I felt his lips touch mine, and as I started to kiss him, he released a mouthful of milk all over my face.

"Blaph!" I coughed and gagged, and splattered milk all over my face and chest.

"Perfect." He started snapping pictures for a few minutes, then I heard him take his clothes off. He then proceeded to have his way with me until I drew the line at Nestor sticking a cold Vlasic dill spear up my ass.

"Nestor, if you stick that up my ass I'm gonna poop that pickle across the room. I'm not kidding." I do have my limits.

"You're no fun," he responded.

He proceeded to loosen my restraints, and we had the kind of sex two young guys, ages 19 and 20, have in the middle of the summer, unsupervised, in America's midwest. Hot, uninhibited, passions unbridled, and because of all the food that covered me, a bit sticky as well.

And that's the last time I ever foodfucked. I guess it's just not my thing.


Victor @ V-Hold

I had a real tough time thinking up something kinky. Either nothing phases me or I am getting old. One thing that came to mind: I went home with a couple and boyfriend #1 had me eat boyfriend #2’s ass out and then spit the juices back into boyfriend #1’s mouth. Using the references of #1 and #2 just makes this story all the more sickening.


Van @ Vanguard, A Miscellany

We'd gone out on three or four dates, and nothing indicated the extent of his paraphilia. He was two years younger, cute with a Texan accent. We were the same height 5'9", but I outweighed him by at least fifteen pounds. He used every excuse to touch my arms or my chest, letting me know how intrigued he was with the fact that they were larger than his. I appreciated the lean runner's frame with its abdomen carved from stone.

As before, we went back to his apartment, but he seemed nervous this time. Finally, he let me know what he was so nervous about: "Ever since I saw you, I've been dying to wrestle you."

"Um...OK," I responded and let him know that I was OK with a little tussle.

He left the bedroom, telling me to stay until he was ready. After about fifteen minutes, he called from the living room, "Come in here!"

And I stood in shock at the site before me. The living room had been transformed. All of the furniture had been moved into the dining room, and in its place were huge blue tarps that had been laid over the carpet and taped about a foot up the walls. He stood in the center in a wrestling singlet, holding another singlet out to me with one hand, and with the other he doused a large bottle of Johnson's and Johnson's baby oil over his head.

"Um...OK."


Mark @ Zeitzeuge

While hanging out at a local gay watering hole, I wasapproached by an extremely handsome, stocky, hairy,goateed man who started speaking to me in German. Knowingsome German myself, we conversed for a short time. He told me I looked German and assumed I was from his homeland. Well ok, whatever. Finally switching to English, he tells me he works forLufthansa Airlines and is on a layover.

It's two day sbefore New Years. We hit it off incredibly. Beautiful man with a beautiful accent. I was in heaven. We head over to a more dark and secluded leather bar for more drinks. While we stood there chatting, he kept telling me how much he liked me. Then he proceeds to tell me that he thinks I will be "heez nechs lova!" and wants me to fly to Germany with him the next morning and live on the Rhine River at his home. He reaches in and hands me $1000 in cash and tells me to think about it while he goes to the bathroom. I'm baffled. I should have ran.

He comes back and immediately says, "Ah, before ve fly out tomorrow, I must tell you dat I'm into Peeg sex."

I was very new to the whole leather scene but I told him I had no intention of having sex with Farm Animals.

"Oh nicht, NICHT! I like PEEG Sex! DIIRRRRRTY Sex! I vould love to poop and hazzu pee onz mee doring our PEEG Sex."

I stood there. Mouth open. Handed him the 1000 bucks back and said, "Well, I've experienced the peeing part, but like hell I'm taking a dump on you or you on me. But I appreciate the offer. You're very sweet."

I calmly walked out the bar, then RAN to find my friends.

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(From Joe- Big thanks to all my blogger pals for particpating! And attention Joe.My.God. readers: Please email me privately at JoeNYC@gmail.com if you'd like to be included in an all-readers version of this post. I'll be posting your contributions next week. Thanks!)


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