If You Knew Then What You Know Now
If You Knew Then What You Know Now

If You Knew Then What You Know Now

So, here’s an interesting thought exercise: What if you could go back to your youth, but with all the knowledge and confidence and experience that you now possess? What would be different if that were true?

A couple of clarifying personal factors: I did not lose my virginity until my second year of university. And I am still growing my confidence in knowing who I am, and in particular in expressing that in a relationship. 

What has become clear over time is that I am not the depraved and demented unicorn that I once thought I was. I may still have unique dimensions to my cravings (don’t we all?) but the fact that I am a submissive kinky bear in no way qualifies me as unique. Kinky dimensions of sexuality are surprisingly prevalent, and there are many more of us out there than many might expect. 

That said, I came of age before the internet, and in a period where squeaky-boing-boing bulletin board systems didn’t broadly stray into kink. Apart from occasional stray glossy BDSM magazines and the odd copy of Penthouse Variations, there wasn’t a lot of broad reassurance that being kinky is okay. 

The biggest fear in embracing my kink has always been about being judged by others, and being rejected, humiliated and shamed as a consequence. What I have finally (after oh-so-long) come to appreciate is that doesn’t always have to be the horrible badge some fear. 

If I had confessed to being kinky and submissive, about the worst that might have happened is that my prospect would have told all of her friends that *gasp!* he’s into THAT. In retrospect, that might have been useful advertising. It certainly was no worse than the rumours that got spread about me that had no basis in reality. 

The challenge is what happens when you know that you are kinky (I have done so since at least the onset of puberty) and at the same time are a “good boy” (not that kind). I went to a school where mandatory uniform was blazer, flannels and tie, and  I made it all the way up to being Senior Prefect (some of you will inevitably find this hot). I was also an altar boy (same). I got theoretically good grades (does not live up to his full potential) and rarely gave my parents behavioural cause for concern. 

Well behaved on the outside, desperately depraved on the inside. A problem that has largely plagued me from childhood through my entire adult life. 

Going back, I would have tried to accept more that my perversions were mine. That they were okay. That they would in fact be welcomed and embraced and adored by the right person. 

I would have had the confidence to say that I am submissive (and that this goes way deep). That I genuinely seek being someone’s pet, plaything and slave. That I crave and want to (within relatively broad and expansive limits) give up control. That I want to be yours. That I get surprisingly twitchy when you call me “mine.”

I would have figured out much earlier that I don’t have a punishment kink (but that maintenance spankings are more than welcome). That I’m not seeking discipline and correction (but that in the context of a defined role-play that can be all the hot). That I do want to worship and serve. That the depths to which this is true go to are surprisingly intimate levels (she knows, but I am not telling you pervs). 

I would have been proud for wearing panties (and not embarrassed for being caught in them). I would embrace getting tied up (and suggested new and interesting forms of predicament for next time). I would ask to be pegged (but beg to let me suck her off first). 

Mostly, I would have reassured her that all of this was on her terms. It was her process. And at her pace. That the point of submissions and surrender was about placing her pleasure first, always. That my pleasure was incidental (and that this being true is it’s own wholly magnificent dimension of squirm). 

That would have been an empowering and astonishing place to navigate my twenties from. And my thirties. And my forties. 

Now, in the early part of my fifties, I am relatively assured that I would have had a very different life, knowing what I know now, and having the confidence that I am learning and gaining.

If you offered this to me, I wouldn’t take it, though. If I had, I would have led a much different life. I would not be where I am today. And I would not be hers. I wouldn’t be in a place where all of the above is now true, and more. I value that most of all.

And we are just getting started. 

Prompt: Rewrite your first sexual experience as you wish it had happened.

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