May 232016

500205968I sat through an orientation, the majority of it being what the kink community is. The group of people that I shyly sat amongst talked about just discovering Fetlife, the things that they learned already, how it was all so much…whether it was overwhelming or fun they wavered back and forth on too.

I didn’t say anything. I realized that while orientations were for everyone, this one was filled with people brand new to the lifestyle. Which there was nothing wrong with, I was just a bit taken aback by it.

The people in charge of the orientation were humorous in their advice and words of wisdom. They talked to the audience as if we knew absolutely nothing – which was fair considering the majority of the people admitted as much.

I sat silently. I didn’t want to nod sagely and appear arrogant or a know-it-all, nor could I even pull off the open-eyed wonderment of my peers in the room. I wasn’t an expert – at anything, didn’t know the facility at all. But I sure as hell don’t consider myself new to the lifestyle either.

Yet, I was new to this dungeon, and assumed to new to the lifestyle.

My brain kept drifting to all my friends in my old state, all the kinky adventures. It drifted to attending all new functions of the past next to the sexy and strong comfort of my husband – a couple with all the privileges that come with it.

After the orientation, I made conversations with people – both the new people and the people who walked in for the upcoming party who seemed to know everyone else, where I felt again in that awkward “hey, I really know what I’m talking about with a few select things with really only my husband who is no longer my husband, but I can’t personally do them because I was a bottom”.

Last night hit home how strong my kink explorations were tied into my husband. Sure, I’ve played with many other people with and since him, but they were all from that group that I met with the comfort of him beside me.

I felt a bit intimidated, and homesick – for both my marriage and the benefits that it brought, and for my friends where I was known to be capable and friendly.

It’s nice knowing people and having their support. I knew of no one here.

I disengaged myself from the lobby and the conversations so that I could see how the dungeon functioned during an event. Despite my intention to sit in a dark corner and just watch the play party scenes unfold to get a feel for the place and people, a single female sitting alone earned me a bit of conversation. I had two older men approach me, one after another, both a tad assertive about pushing for play – one wanted me to take various implements to him despite my assurance that I had very little knowledge or expertise in it, the other wanted to take heavy implements to me in a way that I would not like at all. I indicated to both that I just wanted to watch, that I wasn’t interested in the impact play that they were offering, and they both, on each separate occasion, said they would come back later for me.

I know I could’ve asked a dungeon monitor for assistance, but even though I felt slightly pressured, I didn’t feel in danger or creeped out by these men, and I truly try to handle my own issues.

After about five minutes of quiet, another man slowly approached me, almost hesitant. He seemed shy, or just reserved, so I smiled and nodded – I understand what it is to be shy, though many people don’t see the inner turmoil when I struggle with it.

He asked if he could sit next to me – already a big improvement from the other two men, and I assured him he could.

“I saw you at the class,” he began barely above a whisper, eye contact sparse.

I asked him if he enjoyed the class and what I enjoyed about it. We discussed how long we had been in the scene, and what were some things we enjoyed. The conversation lasted awhile only because it was so stinted in long pauses. He seemed to mull over things before questioning and sometimes even answering. He had a slow, articulate, unhurried manner that made me feel easy in his company and reminded me a bit of Mimir – communication seemed important to him.

“Would you be interested in playing?” he softly asked after some time.

He mentioned he was a switch, but I didn’t want to top someone – that’s a rare mood for me and one that really comes about with only my husband or very close friends, so I queried: “what would you want to do to me?” There, crystal clear I wouldn’t be doing anything.


“Pads or wand?”

“Wand. And sensations play?”


“What’re your limits?”

“I have zero idea beyond nothing of a sexual nature because I’ve only done it once and with someone I was intimate with, though breasts may be touched. I don’t think I’d like my stomach or ribs zapped. What else were you planning so I can get an idea of the play you do?”

And we began to negotiate for a scene, despite my intention of only watching people play.

He seemed alright to play with because he knew most of the members (who in just listening to discussions he had experience), didn’t seem pushy, asked the right questions, seemed humble rather than egotistical, and was interested in a play at a level that I felt I was at.

I also felt some connection to him – otherwise I don’t quite care how awesome all the factors are, I need to play with the person first – not the experience and skills they bring to the table.

And, if I were honest, I really needed a scene, it had been so long and my mind and body were craving it.

*Here is the scene that we did, one that was certainly a first for me. 

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