My First Reflection.

To newcomers I extend a grateful thank you for taking the trouble to find me. To properly understand what my blog is about then I would recommend reading the earlier posts by scrolling down. Please enjoy! 

The Touch Of Another series of blog posts has been made up of my recollection of events that took place when I was 18 maybe 19 years of age. I see them now, more years later than I care to disclose, as the most important influential experiences in my sexual life. Maybe beyond the sexual. At that age I was a blank canvas. Of course there was the peer pressures that we all live with at those tender ages, but my sense of curiosity was not tainted by years of social conditioning to conform to an “acceptable” template.

That very first encounter with another man was completely fundamental in my developing an nonjudgmental attitude towards sexuality, not just my own but to others as well. At first that was obviously not the case… I was infested with guilt. At that age I even felt self loathing after masturbating never mind the whole minefield of having sexual relationships without there being “love”, and with another man? That was off the scale in the family I was brought up in. I was the only pupil in my school class who was excused from ‘sex education’ at the insistence of my parents, and with no regard for the impact that had amongst my peers.

Several years passed before my sexual identity began to crystallise. I use that term intentionally because just as crystals form, my exploration developed in clusters, dependent upon one simple factor. My arousal. To me, arousal is the most intoxicating sensation I have ever experienced. We are talking sexual arousal here and not a neuroscientist’s textbook interpretation. For them arousal is neurons firing off neurotransmitters and an increase in cortical activity resulting in alertness… any form of alertness, not necessarily just sexual arousal. Whilst this clearly is the case physiologically, it means very little at all in our day to day lives…. The direction of my exploration was dictated by what aroused me

My sexual arousal is a state which is utterly all consuming. Once triggered, my mind is not my own. Patrick knew that when he was grooming me in the rest room of our workplace. He had set me traps. My blushes and shyness were the clues he needed, and pounced as any predator does. Once snared I was putty in his hands. But what he didn’t know was that once I had been liberated from my initial trepidation I would become hugely empowered by my abilities to give pleasure. Where Patrick craved the end game, I was enthralled by the foreplay, the buildup.   

Margaret understood me. For her it was about her arousal as well. That was why she wanted to see me with Patrick. She craved the heroin like ecstasy of her heightened alertness. That is how it feels for me. That different plain you find yourself on when you are totally in tune with your arousal. Like a hunter I suppose… the joy is in the excitement of the hunt and not the pulling of the trigger. That’s all over in an instant. To me the state of arousal is the hunt and where I derive most pleasure, far more pleasure than through orgasm alone.

The look Patrick had in his eyes when he had first got to grips with me. Pure hunger and lust. At that point I knew I had control. Of course Patrick knew he had found his prey but for me I knew he was cock-struck… I had what he wanted. Likewise with Margaret. I knew as I watched her fingering her pussy that it was through my actions which had brought her to that state. 

Then there was the physical aspect of it all. The tastes. The sensations that I was inducing and also receiving. The intimacy which I had been brought up to believe only came through a heterosexual monogamous relationship. There had been nothing remotely like it before in my young state.

At that time, my pleasure was overshadowed by a deep sense of guilt. I knew that it felt wonderful, but the pain of the guilt was dreadful… but neurotransmitters had done their job, I was addicted. With the guilt came an excitement. Overlaying the guilt was a sense of  breaking the rules, being bad, deviant… different. Unbeknown to my parents, they’re own behaviour towards sexuality had a fundamental role in the feelings I had.   An entirely new aspect of who I am was emerging.

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