Dark Passengers Series

My Dark Passengers

I debate what should be revealed here. Certainly, by posting the old series, I’ve exposed a part of my psycho-sexual history that’s probably a wet dream to any therapist. Of course, this is a sex blog and not my normal blog.

Correction: I don’t have a normal blog. However, other outlets for the writing beasts inside have a place to occupy.

Back to my considerations of unleashing the other beasts of my past explorations. Those explorations — in particular two such thought-provoking time periods — begin to form the mosaic of my sexual being.

The first is a topic that, surprisingly, was unearthed by a female Dominant — although she has considered herself a switch. Her blog, Making Boys Blush, provides for an interesting read. For me, it’s the submissive straight or bi men in her life. She herself admits I’m a little more ingrained in a “sick twisted-ness” that she finds fascinating.

That brings me to my past when I too indulged in a bit of the BDSM lifestyle. Actually, it was more than a bit. I spent a little more than a year immersed in it with full force. I explored some elements of myself still disturbing to this day. And I wonder the impact it had. Yes, that photo is me in some rubber gear in a dungeon.

As I have mentioned, my appearance is now and always has been unassuming. Back when I lived in D.C., I used to frequent the Eagle, the only leather bar in town (as it seems to be with every city). I think the Eagle is gone now, but in its day, I found it enjoyable. This somewhat lanky, awkward guy in black jeans, a black t and black boots walked through the door with the only thing that seemed to betray him was the bookish glasses, neat haircut and pale white skin.

The leather community proved to be a place where I found respect. In a leather bar, your status had nothing to do with the size of paycheck or biceps and your status in the overall gay community had little sway. In fact, the true nature of a leather bar could be found deep within the community itself, only hinted at among the drag queens (those who dressed as butch as possible but hardly anything was butch about them) and curious frat twinks.

I recall one night I was standing next to a boy I knew and we were chatting. One of his friends stopped by and ignored me mostly to chat up his friend. The boy attempted to introduce me, but the friend had no interest. Again, I blend into the woodwork — or in this case, the black-painted walls.

The friend spilled his guts, telling the boy who he was about to depart with for some fun. And he turned to walk away when the boy called out, “This is…” followed by my online name at the time.

The interrupting guy stopped dead in his tracks. You could see something probably akin to a chill run up his spine. He turned around, nervous, glancing at me and then the boy.

“That’s… him?” he stuttered.

The boy nodded.

“One… could you both wait here a moment?” he said and pushed his way into the crowd.

I shrugged and continued my beer. A moment later, he was back, apologizing and shaking my hand.

I did not fuck him that night and I didn’t the next. In fact, for the next few weeks, he courted me as I allowed it. In fact, I even had him procure me a fuck before I allowed him to serve me. Among that community and in that moment of time, I was infamous — at least in a small circle.

So I debate how much of that to share here. How much of that exploration advised the place I am now.

The second Dark Passenger I am considering is even further back in time. One of deep places in my psyche that I’ve began unearthing of late.

Around the age of 9 or 10, I was molested. As horrible as it sounds, many times I chose to allow myself to have sex with this much older man — up until I was 17 — right about the time I found the gay community in the nearby city and could drive there on my own for the sexual curiosities. Even then, I was used (and knew I was being used).

Yes, I love the show Dexter on Showtime. But when he speaks of his Dark Passenger, I actually see Dark Passengers for me. I see more than one. And I am thinking of introducing them to you. There will be more hot stories and a few not so hot.

You tell me. Comment back. Should I?

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