The closest I came before that was reading some of my Dad's Gor books and finding trashy magazines my younger brother had hidden. These were geared to men's fantasies of course. 

I'm still learning what my inner most desires are. Bondage certainly, I'm not sure about spankings or a lot of the other "traditional" pain/ pleasure ideas. I am willing to experience most of these things. Except something like being whipped, that would be very painful.  …more

I began my BDSM journey, I now understand, as myself. I'm still myself. Along the way I looked into different roles and labels and tried to fit myself into them. That was a mistake, a misplacement of myself. But, it was interesting and all adds flavour to the journey, making it a chance to discover who I am.

Here are conversations I had through forums and email and a post I wrote at points during my discovery. (It will be at least two posts).

I've been trying to think of a simple way to explain how I feel to be a switch. I thought about buttons, the kind you find with your partner to drive them wild with lust. Well, in my case the buttons connect to a switch like a train track. Depending on which buttons are pushed my switch changes from the submissive track to the Dominant one. Other ways to look at it: I want to wear someone's collar and belong to that person, I also want someone to be owned by me and wear the collar I give them.  My bondage fantasies are about being taken captive and taking a captive of my own.  …more

I'm watching TV... not really paying much attention to it.

My little man brings in the coffee. He's wearing that cute little apron we found last week. That's all he's wearing. I watch his bare feet, then up along the backs of his legs to his butt cheeks as he walks away, off to do the laundry.

Weekends are nice, when you're a Domme. What new little torment can I think of for my little man...?

I hear the washing machine start up. Then the clothes dryer starts up. I like the smell of fresh dried clothes and how nice and warm they are when they first come out of the machine.

"Little man...?" I call to him.

His head pops around the doorway, ""Yes, Madam."

"Bring those towels from the dryer, here."

In a minute he is back with the towels, not yet folded. I press one to my face, so warm and soft. There are not half a dozen towels in the pile, but I only need one more. No point in making him re-wash all of them.

Standing up, I take off my shirt, slip my pants down to my ankles and step out of them. From the bottom of the pile, I pull out the warmest towel and set it down on the couch behind me, spread out. Before I sit down I pull off my panties. When I sit down I feel the warm towel on my butt cheeks, it's soothing and comfortable.

"Kneel before me, boy."

He does, his face looking hopeful. His breathing has changed, but I'm pretty sure he hasn't noticed all these little things about himself. His eyes are on my boobs, the only part of me still clothed.

I smile at him then lean forward to kiss him and give his bottom lip a little bite. "Unfasten my bra."

I flip my hair forward, making sure it brushes his face and chest. His hands are sure and quick at the hook and eyes behind me. I hold the front of my bra rather than let it fall off too easily. Leaning back I smirk up at him as I wiggle myself forward inching my hips to the end of the couch. He has to back up before my knees push him away.

"This towel is so nice and warm on my bum. Feel my bum."

His hands start on my knees, one on each side. He slides his hands down my thighs, his fingertips gradually slipping lower until he is cupping my hips. "You feel very nice." He says.

"My boobies are a bit cold." I whisper.

"May I kiss them?" He asks.

"Not yet. Open my legs and kneel between my thighs."

He knows what to do, what I want. His hands slide back up to my knees, on the outside of my thighs. At my knees his fingers slip between my knees, pushing them apart slightly. Then he runs his hands up along the inside of my thighs, gently pushing my legs apart. I'm already wet and I know he can smell and see how much I'm enjoying this. I relax back against the couch, letting my thighs fall open farther.

"Now you can kiss my boobies."

I know this is not exactly what he wanted at that moment. The flicker of disappointment on his face makes me laugh quietly.

My bra is removed, but he holds back a moment, admiring the curves of my breasts and my nipples. He presses his face between my breasts, kissing the valley before moving to the peaks. I pretend not to notice his hands, placed on top of my thighs with his thumbs just brushing the lips of my pussy. The almost there touches are making me want more.

By now he is kissing and sucking one breast and then the other. He makes those funny little noises and I can see the apron has started to tent out in front of him.

"Stop." He freezes in place. "Lean back so I can see you, lift your apron so I can see your cock."

Reluctantly he removes his hands from me and lifts his apron. "Should I take it off?"

"No. It looks cute covering your happy, little cock." He lets the apron fall. "What may I do for you now, Madam?"

"You may kiss and lick my pussy and suck on my clit."

"Thank you, Madam."

"You're welcome." It really is nice being a Domme on the weekends.

Twitter / Search - #ThingsMenShouldntTextEachOther.

My brother would get furious at our younger sister for calling him "gay", "queer", "fag". She would make this a game when he had friends over. My poor brother would try not to rise to her baiting him. But, like anyone who is tormented relentlessly, he did come to his limit. He would jump up, she would run, he would chase her (the odd thing was that she still would not shut her mouth and kept taunting him even while she was running away).

Anyway, my weird family history aside, being gay was not okay. Men were sensitive to the issue, still are. For all I read about accepting homosexuality there is still a lot of discomfort with homosexuality. I can understand. I don't fully accept it myself.

I'm not about to bash anyone and I don't have a phobia about it (homophobia is a childish argument). But, it does not feel like something natural and right to me. I don't make an issue of it. It's a point where I just agree to disagree.

Today, reading the above hashtag on Twitter I got to see that things are not much changed from when I was in high school and my sister would torment my brother with those words. Men still feel uncomfortable, sensitive to the questioning of their manhood. That's a shame. I personally believe men are about the same as they always have been.

The issue of homosexuality really is quietly intruding into my own family these days. I have a nephew in high school. He has had to face the questions about his manhood. Is his voice pitched a little too high? Is it ok if he likes to dress up in a suit and add some blonde to his hair? Are his feet not big enough? (We don't talk about any other measurements...).

His peers decided he is gay at some point and have not let it go. It's not that he is one of those kids being bullied (at least I don't think so) but in his group of friends they joke about his sexuality. Meanwhile, this is a kid who is not having sex (we have talked about this and I choose to believe him). To that group of kids being gay is more about fashion choices, body language and physical characteristics than sexual partners. It's more about the image which gay men have been given by the media than about the reality of liking men/ your own gender sexually.

Take some time to read the posts on Twitter, made by men. Almost everything added to this hashtag is about the issue of homosexuality and being a man, being man enough. Write about men, our brothers, Fathers, nephews, sons, etc. What is the role of men in our culture? What would you like men to feel about themselves, as men?

Note: If anyone uses this post to make a stand about homosexuality I will delete the comment. This is about men and manhood (choice of sex partner is not relevant to the issue of being manly/ man enough).

I can't find Linda Orlando (she originally posted this as a course on Suite101). The link with her name comes up broken, 404. I think I talked to her once, when she was starting the topic there. At the time I was in flux with Suite101, either leaving or thinking of returning. In the end I left it behind. I might have talked to Linda more if I had stayed. But... that's how it goes. I don't have permission to post this, but it was a freely given erotica writing course on the site. I'd like to see the content kept available.

All my original content written for Suite101 has disappeared into some mysterious abyss and I never made a cent for any of it. Not getting paid bothers me less than the fact that everything I wrote is gone. I seem to be silly about keeping a copy of what I write. I don't start keeping copies until it's all about to disappear, if I get the early warning. That doesn't always happen. Beware ye writers!

I don't know when the formatting was lost. …more