does age matter?

A few weeks ago, a mate came over to watch a movie. He's a friend i met through slave4master so he knows fairly well what i'm like. We'd tried the Master/slave thing in the beginning but he's quite a bit younger than me and the chemistry between us meant we naturally drifted towards a more friendly situation. When he comes over he normally stays over and when he does he often wants to get off before he drifts off.

The last time he was over i was on chastity orders so i made clear to him that i had no intention of having sex. How lost can we be in our own little worlds! I guess if you're a submissive on chastity orders, sure, no sex means no sex. If you're a 25 year-old top and you're horny, those words make no sense at all. So 5 minutes later he's on top of me with his cock inching closer to my face. At first i could only laugh. This was my friend, this young kid who comes over to watch movies and chat and now he won't take no for an answer. I tried again to resist his attack but he was just amused by my resistance and in the end i gave in. i'm always the one who gives in in the face of persistence.

So i allowed my lips to part and as he realised i had conceded defeat he transitioned from his active phase to simply relaxing enjoying his victory while i did my bit. i must admit i enjoyed it. In my mind i was feeling guilty because i thought that i shouldn't have been doing that, and that if i really wanted i could have stopped it but at the same time it was so easy to let go, to service a guy who's horny and wants to get off. There's only so much i could have resisted. When he was done i respected my chastity orders but that he was ok with and didn't insist. I enjoyed the transition from the energy of sex to the calm that follows it, knowing i had helped it come about but mostly i was fascinated by having witnessed the urge that comes over a guy who wants to get off, the unswerving drive and youthful and steadfast determination to stick his cock in places. i'm fascinated when i see this in someone and often a spur-of-the-moment quickie feels more intense to me than a long planned-out session.

Quite often 20-somethings have more of a quick and "repetitive" approach to sex rather than long sessions with final climax. Some subs take that as lack of experience or immaturity but i find it refreshing and endearing, even. I find exuberance charming and spontaneity attractive. However, when i was messaged today on gaydar by a cute 21-year-old who's quite keen to meet, i couldn't help but feel puzzled working out the age difference between us.

With age it's all relative and, on the basis of that, i tend to classify people in terms of a very relative younger, older or same age as me (i.e. a couple of years either side). Of these, i can't deny i have a penchant for meeting people who are about my age. Serving someone younger can be hot, on the basis of what i've said above, and flattering, too, but i guess there's always a sense that i shouldn't serve someone who's younger, that somehow it's not right. Serving someone older, more than just a few years, on the contrary, feels like it's too matter-of-fact, conventional, in line with the natural order of things: you look up and respect someone who's older than you so you follow their lead and submit to them. But the real mind fuck is serving somebody who's about my age. That's pure embracing of my submissive self. With someone my age, things could theoretically have gone either way, we would normally be on a par but as it happens we're separated by our very different natures. I can feel a stronger bond with someone my age, it's as if he is a part of me that's not in me, an alter ego, and in coming in contact with him i am finally whole. He fills all my voids and i fill his.

Well, this is as idealised as it gets. Things are generally not this clear-cut but i can't help but ebb towards this idealised perception of things in my attempt to make sense of myself and drifting out to wherever it is that i'm going.

under the train

Yesterday someone died in my underground station. A "person under a train", they say. i don't know if it was an accident or it was suicide but the place was swamped with emergency services vehicles: fire engines, police vans and even a helicopter. The event didn't make the news as far as i can see but the situation above ground was surreal with hordes of rushing commuters walking the streets looking for a way to get to their destination as the train service was suspended.

Surrounded by this chaos, i started feeling the weight of this death several dozen feet under that very ground. If it had been a movie, the camera would have moved high up over the ground taking the opportunity to symbolise the departure of this man or woman's soul billowing up into the vast emptiness above us as we, the living, would start looking smaller and smaller, befitting our superfluousness in a world where there are so many of us. From ground level, though, the situation was one of annoyance, of people asking each other what was happening and irritated over being inconvenienced by another day of travel chaos.

With a past delightfully full of suicidal thoughts that stretch back all the way to my teenage years and a charming penchant for making things about myself, i immediately imagined i was experiencing life after my own passing away, mesmerised by the ineluctable continuing of everything else. We didn't look all that different from a line of ants that continue to carry their provisions home past the ones that have been stepped on. Personally i've never really considered jumping under a train, or off a building or a bridge. I've never considered any jumping at all in this respect so the situation was not immediately relatable but this death was so near and so present, directly touching my daily routine, that i couldn't help but feel affected by it.

I don't think i'm ever going to be able to avoid experiencing this side of life so closely. They say that a depressive personality is a hereditary condition and with a great-grandfather who committed suicide, a depressive grandfather and a fun mum that i can always rely on for casual chit-chat about all things death and tears shed over breakfast, i have no problems subscribing to this belief in my enviable position as the next in line.

So, you see, when i'm told to enjoy my submissiveness and feel happy about it, it's not that i don't want to do it – i just can't. Such a strong experience will always elicit a deep and strong response within me and my way of doing it, my way of dealing with it is this, by allowing the pain to flow through me freely without the need to stop it but leaving someone else to ensure my safety and my wholeness. My need for a stronger man near me is to be able to seek refuge. From me and from everything else.

give peace a chance

We go through life piling up experiences upon experiences that in one way or another mold and define who we are. Every once in a while we come across something or someone that leaves a definite imprint in our mental landscape. Our heads are littered (literally) with events that we sometimes can't make sense of but somehow end up indelibly drawing the map of our minds.

Some time ago i read a story online on the nifty archive. I think this story has marked me quite dramatically. It's called "puppy love". It's about a guy, Pete, who over time discovers, then is overwhelmed by and eventually comes to terms with his submissive nature. All this, aided by Matt, his dominant counterpart with whom he gets involved in an initially undefined relationship that simply develops naturally around the spontaneous dispositions of the two characters.

i have to say, the thing that has struck me most in this story is how Pete retraces the same mental path over and over. In experiencing Matt's dominance and unwavering definition of how their unusual relationship is going to work, he goes around in circles submitting to him, experiencing the overwhelming flow of emotions his submission stirs up in him, finding joy in his owner's protection, then rationalising the unfairness of their relationship, freaking out about how he can let himself be subjected to this kind of treatment, feeling jealous of the fact that Matt also has a girlfriend, acting out to reaffirm his own independence, only to finally come face to face with Matt and re-experiencing the weakness in the knees and the calm of his surrender and find security again under his owner's wing. The whole story is a constant replay of this cycle marked by the peacefulness and happiness that Pete feels when with Matt and the desperate loneliness and anger he experiences when his owner leaves him to go off with his girlfriend.

This struck me because i find myself going through similar ups and downs that make it very hard to have much of a clue about what i actually want. And in the process i end up confusing those who come in contact with me with mixed messages and so much uncertainty.

Last night i made a bit of a fool of myself in one such situation, giving one signal one minute and an entirely different one the next. And i hate this feeling where i feel like i'm wasting someone's time with all this crap that's in my head.

Of all the things that Neil told me there's one that keeps resonating in my head: i don't give my submission a chance. i don't know if this is true. There's certainly other people who would firmly agree with him. I thought i was healed, that i wasn't afraid of ownership anymore. But i am. And there's this fear of disappointing, of taking a commitment i'll end up not being able, or willing, to keep, and again feel like a fraud, like i've wasted someone's time. So i keep gravitating towards the idea of ownership unsure as to whether i actually want to land.

message personnel

Au bout du téléphone
Il y a votre voix
Et il y a les mots
Que je ne dirai pas
Tous ces mots qui font peur
Quand ils ne font pas rire
Qui sont dans trop de films,
De chansons et de livres
Je voudrais vous les dire
Et je voudrais les vivre
Je ne le ferai pas
Je veux, je ne peux pas

Je suis seule à crever
Et je sais où vous êtes
J'arrive, attendez-moi,
Nous allons nous connaître
Préparez votre temps,
Pour vous j'ai tout le mien
Je voudrais arriver,
Je reste, je me déteste
Je n'arriverai pas
Je veux, je ne peux pas

(uri)nation

i can't piss in front of people. i realised this several years ago coming to this country where urinals are almost ubiquitous.

i think i used to be able to when i was younger, before i somehow began associating so much with the act of urinating until it became something that i felt was, in certain situations, precluded from me. Of course i do evacuate but i just can't stand next to other guys in a public toilet and piss, no matter how badly i need to. Just like with fucking or other activities involving others and that are geared towards climaxing, it's something in relation to which i feel more comfortable being in a supporting role – and if that's not the case, i just feel uncomfortable and out of place.

i guess it's linked with what i perceive as making a man a man, what makes me admire men and want to serve them. i do love to look at men piss, especially those who do it so well, without thinking much of it, as though it were something easy to do. Or those who are comfortable being serviced and having their pleasure taken care of. They whip their cock out and use it comfortably – something i cannot do.

This is probably one situation where being too much in my own head is having the better of me but i can't really do anything about it. It's not like i haven't tried. i still try to, sometimes, if i'm alone in a public toilet, i make a point of using the urinals instead of the cubicles and if someone comes in after i've started i can generally see it through. But just as i get cockier and try that with someone else standing not too far from me, there's just no way i can relax whatever muscle i have to relax to get the flow started.

Do i mind? Well, it certainly would be practical in certain situations, like when i'm bursting and there's no cubicle available but, the way i see it, this is yet something else that reaffirms me in terms of what i am and what is meant for me and clearly standing next to other men pissing as an equal in a men-only environment is not for me.

the new

Starting again to see someone new is worrying but exciting. Worrying because these days talk of ownership seems to have the same effect on me as talk of commitment to your average stereotyped 20-something straight guy but exciting because it's meeting someone new and because it's someone exciting.

The first post-online-chat encounter is possibly one of the toughest situations to go through. The person in front of you is both familiar and unknown, a stranger you thought you already knew so much about. I've found myself in one of these situations enough times to know that you leave with a completely different image in your head than what you came with.

But images i have my head full of. All the people in my past are still lingering under my skin. I feel them and i'm very aware of them. D is the one who has fully owned me, L has broken my heart, C has showed me that a Master could care, and Mr Glasgow has given me this perfectly idealised fantasy, albeit self-admittedly erring somewhat on the cyber side of things, but matching like clockwork all of my needs and desires with his own.

i come out of all this enriched if somewhat burdened with past lives and heartaches. Letting in someone new can't be forced, it can only be felt and it's when you come out of that first encounter that you either feel it or you don't. What do i feel? i don't know. I'm following my senses and i slowly put one foot after the other, maybe skipping once or twice.

What i know is this time the new fascinates me and draws me to him, but i'm unable to understand, let alone verbalise, what exactly i'm expecting to find with him other than something new: something that i don't yet know.