Thursday, March 13, 2008

Vanilla Boy.

Whenever I talk about BDSM, Alan squirms. (I don't ever talk about what I've done with Benny specifically, that would be sort of nose-rubbing.) His whole face scrunches up and he waves his hands at me in this frantic "no, NO" gesture. It's hilarious.

We were watching TV and the Travel Channel showed fire cupping being used in Chinese traditional medicine.
"I actually learned how to do this once," I said.
"Hmm, interesting."
"...At an SM class at the Wet Spot."

But even though he hates hearing about it, he doesn't mind me actually doing it. Which is horribly sweet.

And for all he pretends to be squeamish, he doesn't seem to have a problem with holding me down or biting me or pinching my nipples or spanking me. Apparently if there's props involved it's BDSM and thus ickypervy, but as long as you're only restraining and hurting a girl with your bare hands it's just good ol' rowdy fun.

There are bruises on my chest from my vanilla boy.


  1. I told you he was trainable. :)

  2. Trainable in the good way, not in the "70's term for retarded people" way, right?

  3. Sauce - Well, he's not "a trainable," just... amenable to acting as sadistic as possible without actually figuring out what he's doing.

    Sometimes I feel a little bad, like a foot fetishist who doesn't really take his girlfriend shoe shopping out of the generosity of his heart, but hell, as exploitative relationships go I think I can live with this one.