“You were raised in an extremely conservative environment. Name someone who was raised more conservatively than you were.”

“Bristol Palin?” I guessed. He gave me that look and pointed out that my sex education wasn’t that different than hers.

It was a bit strange to realize the totality of my formal sexual education was abstinence only. Sex was bad and wrong before marriage. Sex was bad and wrong inside marriage unless procreation was involved. Sex was for procreation, not recreation.

The irony is that despite the emphasis on abstinence my sexual experiences were not delayed much compared to my peer group, even those neighborhood kids that weren’t indoctrinated by the Catholic church. There have been lasting effects on my attitudes towards sex and not all of them healthy.

One of the enduring lessons is that we don’t talk about sex. We don’t discuss sex. A girls job was to say no. I was never given the tools to negotiate or discuss mutual pleasure and enjoyment. To explain the mechanics Mom gave me “Preparing for  Adolescence” by James Dobson. He had all of about 3 sentences relating to sex within marriage and none of them were very explanatory. Orgasm was never mentioned, just that when having sex they moved against each other until they both felt “very good.”

That was about the extent of my sexual education from my parent, with one fairly major exception. There was a lot of talk about saying no, about sex being bad and how getting pregnant would ruin my life. Birth control was never discussed at all.

One of my few distinct memories of talking about sex was a discussion in my godmother’s kitchen. Discussion is probably the wrong term, it was more a lecture. I certainly didn’t get a chance to express and opinion. The subject was the consequences of having sex. When mom was done explaining how I would be punished if I ever told them I was having sex, my godmother piped up and assured me that when mom was done I would then be turned over to her so she could kill me. Not really a good way to encourage open sharing and constructive discussions about sex.

I still have a lot of hangups around talking about sex. I’m working on being able to talk, and this blog is actually a part of exercise. It’s not easy for me to blog, even pseudonymously, but it’s somewhat safe and I think it will help. Having a understanding lover helps immensely. I know Cam would like for me to talk more about sex. He asks “what do you want” or says “tell me what to do to you.” But if I say “i can’t” there are no negative consequences. When I do answer I get what I want, which is the best type of positive reinforcement.

My name is Fiona and I am a product of abstinence only education.

I don’t have many answers to any of the questions, which is why I think I abandoned the blog for months last year.

Right now, I’m trying to find my way. I don’t talk well about sex at all. Want to watch Fiona vapor lock? Ask her “what do you want?” in the middle of sex. On one level I’m hoping that writing about sex and what I like I’ll work through that difficulty talking about sex. I’m hoping I’ll find my voice and see the path I need to take with it.

On one level I know I have like zero readers and this is nothing different than writing on my own machine. On the other… eh. If I find my voice then there’s history for any readers who may show up. It’s also a good place to comment on other posts I see online (like the g-spot study).

Besides, the discipline of writing, even random writing, is good for someone like me who hates to write. Having a place to call my own and write whatever I want is good.

In addition to being busy and stressful, I’ve also had a lot of responsibility. I am somewhat of a control freak, so the responsibility isn’t bad, but in terms of my sex drive and libido it can be. When I get like this, I can’t shut my brain off enough to really get into sex.

I’m sitting here, though, fantasizing about the thought of being tied down. Flogging. Limit pushing. A place to physically struggle and thrash around. Work off this nervous, stressed energy.

The strange thing is, if asked I’d say I didn’t want this. I don’t want to have to give up the control I’ve been holding over myself the last few months. I don’t want to lose control. I don’t want it.

Except I do want someone to take it from me. To lose myself in the moment and only have to do what I’m told. To drown in sensation. To drop the rational part of my mind, just for a little while.

The thought makes me hot, even as it scares me.

Cuddling is great. We were lying naked in bed last night watching a movie and I cuddled up with him. Skin to skin contact felt great. It was wonderful to feel his body against mine. But, getting relaxed and turned on? Not so much. I am not sure what to do.

It’s not this hasn’t happened before, it has. Usually I can get back into the groove with some vibrations, but I can’t get there right now.

Not a huge amount of fun here. I’m tense and stressed and considering going for a massage just because the achey pain after the massage has to be better than the tension. But then I remember that I’m feeling weird about touching and wonder if a massage is the right thing.

Blech.

I was sitting on the couch playing with the rope, looking at knots the other evening. Cam sat down next to me and held out his arm. “It’s easier if you tie around something.” Well, he didn’t have to ask me twice. I tried some simple knots and rope cuffs around his wrist. Neat! I can tie knots. Even neater was the feeling. It’s strange how something so minor as wrapping a rope cuff around someone’s wrist can bring out some rather toppy thoughts.

It’s even stranger given most of my fantasies and thoughts about ropes and bondage involve me being the one tied up. But his wrist, it was so small, so vulnerable, so there. Opened a whole new realm of possibilities.

Part of the idea was to connect with the more flirty and less … let’s be frank … old bit of my personality. It’s still there, it has to be, but it’s also been hidden behind the more serious concerns of life.

I expect this will be a work in progress. That part of my personality will come out as I write and have an outlet for it. The key to that is, of course, posting regularly. I suspect daily postings are a bit optimistic, but 2 – 4 times a week sounds doable.

That being said… he knows me so well.

“Can I get you anything,” he asked, as he was coming out of the kitchen.

“No, I’m fine.”

*crinkle*

“Oh, you have chocolate. If you’re offering chocolate, that’s DIFFERENT.”

*he hands over the chocolate he brought for me*.

Yeah, that’s our life here.