I’m torn. I’m deeply torn. As you know, I have a fondness for rather rough, kinky, nasty sex. Ever since I was a young boy, around 8 years old, I’ve had dark sexual fantasies involving everything from rope to leather to multiple dominant partners. I’ve embraced these fantasies in various times throughout my life, - most whole heartedly when I lived in San Francisco – but I’ve always had a feeling in the back of my mind that it was all a clever distraction to prevent me from getting what I really truly wanted and needed. Affection and Love.

Sure, there is a certain level of affection that comes along with the flogger striking my backside, that gentle (to intense) “kiss” of the leather as it contacts the skin; but am I risking the opportunity to find true and honest love? Will my heart still skip a beat without that electro contraption attached to various parts of my anatomy? Can passion simmer between two people without physical restraints?

I’ve recently had an experience that has forced me to pause and ponder just these questions. I’ve had the good fortune to experience some rather intense sexual situations in the weeks since International Mr. Leather departed the shores of the Chicago River. I won’t go into details, but the videos (if there are any, I really couldn’t tell you) would require a plain brown box with no cover art. In contrast, I met a gentleman recently that has cast a spell over me. I’m not complaining, mind you. I rather like what’s happening. I won’t call it dating, because I’m not sure what it is. I’m very much attracted to him both physically and intellectually. (Great body, intelligent, amazing kisser, all that)

The part that has me pondering my darker side has to do with this passion-restrained “dance” we seem to be doing. The first time we met, upon parting, there was a light, slightly awkward kiss. I thought about that kiss for hours afterward until the vodka lemonade prevented me from thinking about anything. The second meeting brought yet another “stolen” kiss. Then last night, I felt something that has been missing from my life for so long, I thought it was no longer possible for me. I felt passion.

I felt a fire ignite within me that consumed my doubts about my body and my flaws. I only wanted to kiss him more, to explore him and discover what points would make him squirm and what would make him smile. At one point, I actually said “I kinda want you to think about me this weekend.”

Whatever becomes of this, and I’m not making predictions or plans, it is nice to know that the passion I felt with him at that moment didn’t require physical restraints or safe words.