Tales Of A Sub (revised):

An Exploration Of Sexuality

Prolegomenon/Disclaimer

My life. My crazy, packed, emotional, occasionally reckless roller-coaster of a life, is one I have deduced is now a good time to begin to put on record. Why, I hear you & indeed myself screech?! A good question & one which I have managed to rustle-up at least a few possible advocacies.

My immediate sense is one of reluctance and fear, because to inflict these musings on the world I worry may come across as a bit conceited. Who the hell do I think I am and mores the point, why would any other right-minded human, being in possession of even their most basic of wits, be in the slightest bit interested, bothered or concerned with my ramblings? That peeps I can but leave only to yourselves to decide. This is predominantly a therapeutic exercise in "getting things off of ones chest' with occasional smatterings of licentiousness. If this creates irritation or a sense of exhaustion in you then I can only apologise. You are though of course at liberty to cease reading at any point :)

As the title of these chronicles suggest, the premise is primarily concerned with one of our most visceral of baser-instincts-

("The active part of man consists of powerful instincts, some of which are gentle and continuous; others violent and short; some baser, some nobler, and all necessary".

Francis W. Newman.).....

Yes.

Sex.

That old old but still quite ripe chestnut. Why sex?

Well, my sexuality has been an integral part of who I am since very early-doors and one I feel I now have enough material to credibly consider this venture.

Life has been far from just one massive, grotesque & perpetual search for the next big orgasm but there has been enough of it which may be deemed of enough interest to shine some light on.

Before you jump to any assumption's this will be nothing other than a blatant, unadulterated rant and outpouring of impure pornographic filth, I will briefly clarify.

This is not intended to be a porno-tale per se, more a recollection of perverted times gone by and more importantly the effect they have had on me more generally, though if you conclude that this proves to be nothing more than coarse vulgarity & feel overwhelming nausea and a sense of total moral outrage then so be it. Whatever the case, my motivation, along with the example's cited above, is to at the very least provide a little light-hearted and maybe even at times insightful reading for anyone wanting to explore the BDSM realm, enlighten a smidgen and if I'm very lucky, bring about a few positive outcomes and clarity in some of your own experiences.

Caveat 1

It goes without saying this monologue will at times contain frank, open and often graphical descriptions of a carnal nature, all of which stem from reality as I'm not inclined to or even currently capable of writing fiction. I maintain one writes best when its something of which one has some knowledge.

It will sometimes contain references pertaining to sadomasochism & have degradative intimations ......................

( so"Sadism" and "masochism", in the context of consensual sexual activities are not strictly accurate terms. Strictly speaking, a sadist is someone who enjoys causing pain regardless of whether the "victim" consents to it. Likewise, a masochist is someone who fantasizes about or enjoys being beaten, sexually humiliated, bound, tortured, or otherwise made to suffer in all situations. Within BDSM, a sadist will not inflict pain on people who have not consented. Most masochists do not enjoy pain outside BDSM---Wikipedia).

If you feel offended, I intended to stir no such feelings of repulsion within you and as you reach out speedily for the nearest antiemetic, I wish you well as you undoubtedly cease to read and continue on your own merry way :)

Also, LADIES BEWARE! This is an account that emanates from a gay man, in his mid-thirties. You have been forewarned :)

Caveat 2

I am a stickler for trying to ensure respect towards others, so all references to any person mentioned forthwith will have their identities totally concealed, safeguarded and have any possibility of themselves being identified, completely eradicated.

So with this in mind, I begin to recount a sometimes passionate, frequently deviant but always instinctive of lives.

Tales Of A Sub: An Exploration

Of Sexuality

Chapter 1:

The Earliest Signs Of Aberrant

Behaviour

"Lust's passion will be served; it demands, it militates, it tyrannises"-

Marquis-de-Sade

Gay. Poof. Faggot. Queer. Homo. Arse-bandit. Shirt-lifter. Batty-boy. Cock-sucker. This litany of signifiers is unforgiving. They are all used (in the main) to describe, indicate (and at times just assume) what a man may or may not be getting up to 'behind closed doors' or 'in the sack' (though quite often actually outside 'the doors' and far from 'the sack' but let's not get pedantic). At the risk of stating the blindingly obvious, it all boils down to the inference and motivation some people have for using them. They may be used dyslogistically, to demean, demonise, ridicule, and insult, yet others (in this case the homosexual himself) may use them in a lascivious manner, as a confirmation to said 'batty-boy' of his status in a given sexual scenario ie: 'suck my dick 'you queer''.

I was catapulted into the demonised category from a very young age. I'm not certain when exactly my sexuality began to dawn on me and when eventually I acceded and reconciled myself to it but I think it was around 11 to 12 years of age. You might think this would have proved to be an intolerable and hard-to-stomach position to find oneself in at that stage of life. It was a bit of a chore at first, yet in some way and for some reason, I was fortunate enough to have a certain degree of confidence and comfort that my sexual proclivity was nothing to be ashamed of and had some instinctual awareness that any problems with it would emanate from other people's judgements and prejudices, rather than from the deep recesses of my own perspective. The propensity to feel sorry for oneself, in the main, managed to elude me- a lucky card to be dealt with, I have since maintained.

This example of the 'arrogance of youth' opened the floodgates for the remainder of my school days to sadly be relentlessly inundated and inflicted with the taunts, jibes and stupidities dished out mercilessly by the vast majority of my contemporaries. Kids will always have the capacity for cruelness. And when I say relentlessly I mean it. T'was a lonely existence, save for the amenable, friendly and supportive relations I enjoyed with the majority of staff members. To them, for this, I remain forever indebted. Literally every minute of every school day for the most part of 6 years, was I subjected to their contumeliousness's. As a result, my final grades (except music & English) suffered immeasurably though since then i have done my best to re-educate.

Despite their vile diatribes however, I was not to be muffled or fettered by their pathetic rantings. In fact, all the abusive bombardments, I now realise, were to hold me in a goodstead (indeed i turned them to my perverted advantage-more of which later) and prove helpful in dealing with any bullies I might encounter in later life. A welcomed irony if ever there was.

So it was that I refrained from the temptation of withdrawing and concealing my true identity & began quietly but assuredly coming out to myself and the rest of my world (though having my parents be made aware of my orientation was a dilemma put off until some time later but this is an aspect which i will refrain from venturing into for now, until such a time may demand it).

From the off this, affirmation of sexuality was entered into a tad trepidatiously but I continued to run with it, with 'the wind in my sails and a beat in my heart' ( I don't know where that came from-I can find no reference to it on the web but I must have heard it somewhere) and began to develop in terms of confidence and somewhat tempered pride. For this, I guess I should thank my genes (though from which side I am not certain- probably maternal if I had to bet).

How did this sexuality begin to manifest itself? Well, obviously there was a penchant for males but certain ones in particular. From the outset I was attracted to guys that tended to look a bit mean, like they would show little mercy and appear to have the inclination and ability to kick the crap out of you. The reason for having such a thirst is still a bit of an enigma to me (though research has provided some clarity but I'm unconvinced by Freud's theory that's for sure).

My earliest recollections of attending to these desires are of times when I would, eg: borrow (unbeknown to her of course) my sister's latest edition of Smash Hits magazine (thank you Mr Tennant) and search for images that would fit well with my imagination. Some bad-arsed pop star, sat on a motorbike wearing a leather jacket, for instance. You get my drift I hope. Also, albeit for a brief time, I even jerked off to pics of women and again, in keeping with the men, they had to look dominant, in control.

This submissive inclination continued unabated throughout early teen years (& persists still today--more of which to come) & as time went by my mind conjured up yet more fetishistic-scopophilia.....

("Scopophilia was developed in the psychoanalytic theorizing of Otto Fenichel, with especial reference to identification. Fenichel maintained that "a child who is looking for libidinous purposes...wants to look at an object in order to 'feel along with him' -Wikipedia/Fenichel "Theory" p.7)

This extra erotica included an overwhelming fantasising of guys that could possibly be smokers. Again, where this originates from is a mystery & it too still lurks prevalently inside me today but complaining I'm not :)

There would be certain lads at school that not only fulfilled 'the mean-looking thug' criteria but that they would also, somewhere in the cesspit of my imagination, look even better smoking a fag. This fantasising reached heady-heights when I began spending PE lessons skulking around the changing room and sniffing certain boys clothing to ascertain if they were indeed in the habit of puffing. This loitering was often accompanied by furious masturbation.

So it continued....only ever increasing in intensity....

I would have to make do with mere wanking for a considerable time yet, until early '93 ( just after turning 16) at which time, (thanks to what was then a very revolutionary idea of a "gay-youth" pen-pal scheme which came to my attention--I forget the nitty-gritty of how though it may have been via the "national lesbian & gay switchboard" who I spent many an hour talking to. But I digress. I'm just grateful for the schemes existence), I met a cute 18 year-old (let's call him Stephen).

One day, he came and picked me up discreetly from home, when all were out and whisked me off for a drive, along with some much needed talk and mental sustenance. This brief liaison culminated in what would be my first ever snog and a really passionate "frenchie" (eek!) it was too if I remember rightly. Not only did his technique blow my mouth AND mind but I think I put in a rather good performance too, haha! Would love to hear his say on the matter mind...:)

A small amount

of time later, I began to frequent the "gay-Mecca" that is Brighton (I hail from the south-coast so the town was only a short train ride away). Somehow, I would get away with trolling the bars and it was in one of these establishments I stumbled across my inaugural one-night-stand. My memory of this is not that potent, except to say I (yes ME!) ended up paying for a hotel room for the two of us. Now, it's a well-known passage of rites that the "losing of ones cherry" should be a moment incapable of forgetting but it's with some melancholy that my recollection of the moment is too hazy (that may say something of him, though I won't be so unkind as to say for sure) but I reckon it happened that night.

An encounter which prevails mightily in the memory however (the chronology is questionable but it's around the same time) was one that took place in the cottage of a particular pub. It was a weekday afternoon and I got chatting to a tall, handsome preppy-haired guy, I would say in his mid twenties and he happened to be wearing some hefty black steel-toe capped boots, which he, (in a most welcomed way by me) cockily/sexily/ & with a modicum of arrogance, took comfort in resting on my legs. After a while it was suggested we retreat into said WC to which I was keen to oblige though not at all certain of what may lie in store for me. Nonetheless, the excitement for me was palpable. Once we'd relocated, things began. I don't remember every single moment but I do recall that he wasn't in a mood to show me any clemency. A lucky draw for me it turned out. My enduring memory of is of finishing up lying on the toilet floor with him subjecting me to blow after blow of his intensely aggressive and powerful boots, grinning all the way and I lapping it all up whilst in the company of a (highly predictable) hard-on. He shot his load, put his meat away and then simply left the room, whilst I remained pathetically, yet oh so satisfied, on the floor, revelling in the possibility that from that point onwards, life may be adorned with unashamed perversions and deviancy.

And it was to be proved true, though this peeps feels like a good and natural time to take stock, have a breather and then continue later with these recollections, as I explore and muse some more about this obedient, glad-to-suffer and eager-to-please submissive's life.

I hope I haven't bored too many of you to extinction. Tell me what you think, if you want.

Until the next time, when I will explore the antics which were had around my coming of age. Bye-bye :)

Yours, Sub.....