The View From My Knees

One year ago, on December 5th, I posted my first entry on this blog. Since then, I’ve posted over 100 other entries, including memories, stories, pictures, and podcasts. I didn’t know what I was doing when I started, or why. I just knew that I wanted to write about sex. I’d been thinking about a girl, and I thought that getting it all out on paper would help satisfy my fantasy. I suppose it’s sort of like when you get a song stuck in your head and the only way to get it out is to find that old CD and listen to the track. But it wasn’t enough to write it; I needed someone to read it. I thought about my favorite new obsession, The Girl With A One Track Mind, and that’s when I decided to put that Blogspot account to use. I typed up my little fantasy and hit the Submit button.

The thrill of posting that first fantasy ignited something in me that I hadn’t felt in a while. I’d always loved writing, but it had been a long time since I’d written anything worth reading. As I re-read my post, I started to realize how much I liked writing about sex. Perhaps it was no coincidence, then, that my reignited passion for writing came right around the same time I was experiencing a sexual awakening. My sex life had been dormant for many years, but now I’d rediscovered myself, and I was living life to the fullest. I decided that I was going to share my experiences with whoever wanted to read them, and when I started getting feedback from my visitors, I was hooked.

Now here I am, one year later. Looking back through my blog, I can see how things have grown and changed. Some things didn’t quite work out as I’d hoped, like the podcasts, and other things have continued to get better, like Lucky’s photos. My writing has improved, although I haven’t had much time for it lately. Some of my friends have really enjoyed seeing themselves on my blog, while others have discovered things that were better left unseen. Through the comments, email, and instant messaging, I’ve had the chance to talk to all kinds of friendly and interesting people. Overall, I’d say it’s been a success, and I plan to make it even better. Among other things, Lucky and I are planning a complete redesign to make the site prettier and more functional. While we’re at it, I’d love to hear your feedback on the web site, photo galleries, and podcasts. What do you like? What don’t you like? What could be improved? What new features would you like to see? Leave me a comment or send me an email to weigh in.

In my recent post about my experience at Burning Man, I told you about one particular string of experiences. As I mentioned, this only scratched the surface of the amazing time I had at the event. Some of the other major highlights of my week in the desert were the amazing new friendships that formed. My relationships with some friends became closer, and I formed close new relationships with people I’d just met. One new friendship, in particular, left a very big impression on me. I met a wonderful man with whom I shared a very special connection. We became enamored with each other in only a few days, but never had the chance to express those feelings physically. Of all the goodbyes I said on that last day, his was the most difficult. He was in my thoughts throughout my entire 15 hour drive home, and, as soon as I had settled in, I sat down and wrote the following fantasy for him.

I should have given you a proper goodbye when I had my chance. You were bound by your wrists in front of your tent, ready to do my will or devour me – whichever I chose. But you didn’t expect either. You were content with the moments we’d already shared and patient for what might come in the future. A week, a month, a year – we didn’t know when we’d see each other again, but you knew it would happen when we were ready. I, on the other hand, am not patient. When I want something, I want it now. And I wanted you at that moment.

Our kisses felt so good, and my knees got weak when you sucked on my neck. Sneaking peeks at my campmates, I knew they wanted to leave, and my guilt was overwhelming my desire. If only I’d known how much I’d regret the choice I would make. I felt goosebumps on my thighs as I removed the bindings that had been playfully applied to your wrists. It felt so wrong to be leaving this way, with so much unfinished business. I wanted to take you inside of your tent. I wanted to lay you down on your bed, still bound, and make you watch me undress.

As I sat in the car, I imagined how I would have kneeled over you and kissed you passionately before removing your clothes. I squirmed in my seat as I thought about running my fingers, and then my tongue, up and down the shaft of your hard cock. Not having the patience for foreplay, my fantasies quickly skipped to the main event. I pictured myself kneeling over you and sliding myself down onto your cock. I’d unhook your hands so that you could run them along my body as you pleased, stopping to cup my breasts or caress my face.

I found it hard not to slide my hand up my skirt as I fantasized about riding you. I closed my eyes and saw my hips moving on top of you, my clit rubbing your pelvis with each unbelievable thrust. I would have been unable to keep quiet, and my moans – perhaps both of ours – would be heard by envious passersby. I’d lean down and kiss you passionately, sending me – us- even closer to the edge. We wouldn’t have had much time, but we wouldn’t have needed it. Before long, I’d be thrusting my hips up and down so wildly that we’d both erupt in ecstasy at the same moment. I’d feel the pulsing of your cock as you came, just as you’d feel the spasms rushing through my body.

Exhausted and sweaty, I’d lie down next to you for a few last moments together as we held each other. Unfortunately, those final moments wouldn’t last very long, and I’d rush to get my clothes back on and compose myself before returning to my camp. I’d give you one more long, passionate kiss goodbye before returning to my camp to leave. My face would be flushed, and I wouldn’t be able to hide what I’d just done, but I wouldn’t care.

The more I think about what I should have done, the more I get excited about what I will do the next time I see you. Then we’ll have all the time we need. We can move fast or take it slow. Our only obligations will be to ourselves and our own desires.

I recently read a post by Regina Lynn on Wired’s Sex Drive Daily that got me thinking about my responsibility as a blogger. In this post, Regina talks about a lawsuit in which a man is suing a former lover because she posted explicit details of their relationship in her sex blog, which was later published in a book. Even though the blogger didn’t use his name in the entries, his identity was discovered, and he feels that the blog “constituted a gross invasion of his privacy, subjecting him to humiliation and anguish beyond that which any reasonable person should be expected to bear in a decent and civilized society.” I am obviously interested in this case because it could set a scary precedent for bloggers. What would happen to our beloved sex blogs if they had to ask permission before writing about any encounter? How explicit and honest can a blog really be if the author is forced to show it to partners and lovers? I hope that we don’t have to find out the answers to these questions. Fortunately, I don’t think that the man will win his suit. But I have absolutely no legal training (unless you count that law class in high school), so my intent here is not to get into a discussion of the case itself.

What really concerns me is the comment thread on the Sex Drive post. For the readers of a sex column, I found many of the comments disturbingly harsh, angry, and misogynistic. Commenters bashed the blogger for being a slut, a blabbermouth, and a whore (this in reference to her making money off of her sexual exploits through the book). They vilify her because she is publishing, for all to see, the explicit details of what are usually considered the most intimate of acts without disclosing it to her partners or asking their permission.

After reading these comments, I suddenly became very self-conscious about what I’ve been doing for the past year. I love sex, and I love writing. It has been thrilling to put the two together, and even better to know that others enjoy my work (and my sex life). I take care to use pseudonyms for my lovers, and I keep any other identifying details out of my stories. I’ve kept my identity a secret, not for my own privacy, but for that of the people I write about. Some of my lovers have no idea that this blog exists, while others love the opportunity to see themselves through my eyes. One recent lover asked that I not write about him, while another lover and I spent hours laughing in bed after a fabulous sexual encounter as we tried to come up with a good nickname for him in his upcoming debut on my blog.

What I’m wondering now is whether I should be more forthcoming with my lovers about the possibility of an experience ending up in the pages of my blog. Should I be asking permission before publishing the intimate details of these encounters? Should my lovers have any say in what I write? And, while I rarely say anything negative about any of my lovers, how candid can I continue to be if everyone I write about has access to my honest thoughts and feelings regarding an experience?

Perhaps this is the trade-off for making these types of things public. My lovers lose a little bit of their privacy, even if their name is not explicitly mentioned, and I am forced to reveal my honest reactions to those I write about. It’s certainly something I will give some thought to from now on. Will it change anything? I guess we’ll see.