Saturday, February 28, 2009

Age Play (Part Five)

Part Four

Ah, part five. The final installment in the five part age play series. (Not to say that there won’t be more age play topics in the future, but certainly not for a little while.) The intention was five posts in five consecutive days. Then my back went out and I pulled a muscle in my leg, and the next thing I know I’m taking an eight day break between parts one and two. (Whoops.) Five parts in 13 days? This thing kind of feels like a stone around my neck now, and I’m very glad that I can see its finish line.

But here at the part five starting gate, we begin with yet another lack of a recap. Next week I’m going to come back (probably) and stick ‘previous’ and ‘next’ links into the age play series, so that you can easily jump from post to post, rendering the need for such things as recaps obsolete. (Ha! I have beaten you, need-for-recaps!)

I will, however, repeat the “Age Play is NOT Pedophilia” disclaimer (for the umpteenth time): Age play has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with pedophilia. Age play has nothing to do with actual biological children. It’s about adults playing with the concept of age as it relates to themselves. Legal adults pretending to be kids. And legal adults interacting with other legal adults who are pretending to be kids. Any sexual age play has no interaction with actual children.

Age Play Sex Fantasy Scenarios

If a tree falls in the forest, and the Zen people hear it, do they care about it either way? Probably the wrong question for today’s post. Here’s a better one: If I knew a woman who was both into age play and willing to have sex with me, what kind of things would I want us to do? Heh. Yeah, that’s a MUCH more appropriate question.

The Incest Concept

In the first part of this series, I mentioned the seeming predisposition toward incest fantasy in age play (at least, in the age play erotic stories I used to find online). And while I don’t have any actual interest in incest, I do have quite a few age play based incest fantasies. Being the son in an erotic Mommy/son relationship. Being the daddy in a Daddy/daughter pairing. That sort of thing. But the big fantasy has always been (and probably will always be) the brother/sister scenario.

I was an only child until I was almost 15 years old. Sexually curious since I was 10 or so. And one of the things that I really wanted from the ages of 10 to 15 (and probably even later, to be perfectly honest), was a sister. Oh, I didn’t want my parents to have another child then. I wanted them to have retroactively had another child much, much earlier. Ideally, I wanted a twin sister. But I’d’ve settled for one either a year older or a year younger than me.

Because – as my little kid/early teen reasoning went – if I did have a comparable age sister, and I was as horny as I was . . . it would stand to reason that she’d be horny too. And in my head, this imaginary sister of mine would come to the same conclusions that I would. Horny, with an opposite sex peer living under the same roof? Hmm . . . really, you can’t NOT take advantage of that opportunity, can you?

So, yeah. While most of my fantasies are little/little pairings (as opposed to big/little), if you want to really thrill me during age play, you’ll throw in a little sibling incest into the mix.

Of course, this is all abstract. Now I’ve got a sister. And while I can recognize that she’s pretty (plus, you know, a redhead), she doesn’t do anything for me. At all. Why? I can only assume that it’s because she’s my sister. (Like that needed explaining. Sheesh. Oh – I guess after the previous couple of paragraphs, it did need explaining. Well, never mind then.)

Could I have had incest fantasies about ‘my sister’ if I’d’ve actually had one my age back then? Who knows? But it’s apparently just a conceptual thing. A scenario I used to fantasize about when I was younger, and now just another story category on Literotica that I should have NO problem coming up with ideas for as I try to write stories this year.

Little/Little Fantasies

Anyway, regardless of whether or not they’ve got the ‘sibling fantasy’ template attached to them, there are lots and lots of fantasies I want to explore. I’ve already mentioned several of these fantasy scenarios based on elements from my past. The whole I’ll Show You Mine If You Show Me Yours game. (Either as it’s own thing, or as something that goes further and leads to more.)

There’s the 12-year-old’s version of losing my virginity. (Several of my classmates were losing theirs around that time – why wasn’t I?) I mentioned having lots of paper route fantasies. And the reason I didn’t go into detail is because I’ve got a post about my paper route days in the works.

Time jump up to high school, and there’s more fantasy fodder. The 16-year-old’s version of losing my virginity. (Or 17-year-old’s.) And while it’s true that in high school, it was Penny (not her real name) that made my heart swell, there were other girls that had similar effects on another one of my body parts. Rocket Girl (not her real name) was the subject of the occasional masturbation fantasy. And then there was the White Tiger (not her real name).

White Tiger paid me no attention whatsoever until she discovered that I was still a virgin. Once she discovered that little tidbit, I started to interest her a little. (Mainly as a curiosity. She wasn’t suddenly trying to actively seduce me or anything.) But there was that one time when her and a couple of the school’s stoners were in the park as I was walking through, and she came up to me – already high as the proverbial kite – and told me that they were heading back to her house to party, and that I should come with them.

I declined her offer, and she told me that I didn’t need to smoke with them, but that I should come along so that she could ‘make me a man’. Did I mention that the White Tiger was sexy as Hell? I still declined. Good Catholic boy strikes again. (Or is that, ‘Good Catholic boy DOESN’T strike again’?) Maybe if she’d made the offer when she hadn’t been stoned out of her mind . . .

20+ years later (and still not yet ‘a man’ by her definition), I think that if I had a chance to do things over again, I’d probably do them a little differently. I know that I’d definitely like to have some wild teenage sex with an age play ‘girl’ in her otherwise empty house ‘before her parents get home’ sometime.

And beyond the teen years? Taking on the adult role in an age play scenario has a whole world of possibilities.

Big/Little Fantasies

Having read lots of stories from Literotica’s “Incest/Taboo” category has filled my head with all sorts of Daddy/daughter fantasies. Seducing Daddy for any number of reasons – to keep from being forced to get an after school job, to not get kicked out of the house, or simply for shoe money. Or the more altruistic-seeming seductions, trying to become a replacement after the loss of his wife (her mother) following either death or divorce.

And not just Daddy – Uncle, Grandpa, even older Cousin. I can think of several decent (and cock-hardening) scenarios for each of those. Not to mention the classic friend of the family but not actually blood relative “Uncle”.

Beyond the family roles, there are other classic scenarios. The store owner who catches the little girl shoplifting, and exacts his own punishment. The unethical therapist who manipulates his young patient. Any authority figure with a legitimate cause to punish.

All sorts of different Teacher/Student scenarios come to mind. The old standby of the failing student who will do ANYTHING for a passing grade. Or the much quirkier concept of a teacher giving a remedial course in sex abuse prevention to his younger student. (“First of all, don’t let anybody ever put one of these . . . into here . . . like this . . . uh! . . . and then pump it in and out . . . like this . . .”)

Doctor or nurse is a good adult role for a little to play off of. That’s another potential age play/X play combo: medical fetishism combined with little Billy or little Susie’s trip to the doctor. But even without fetishistic play involving actual medical props, there’s still getting undressed and getting examined. Possibly getting probed, depending on the type of ‘doctor’, and what symptoms the little’s persona is currently exhibiting.

And any adult role is a good one if the little in question is a ‘little girl’ (late school kid through teen) who’s gotten access to her feminine wiles early, learning to use her body to get what she wants. The type of girl who, if she can’t get her way with her low-cut top and short skirt, then she’ll resort to using what’s IN her low-cut top and short skirt.

Yeah, okay, I realize that a lot of the above sounds like bad porn scenarios. But there are others. The idealistic young girl who sets out to prove the love knows no age limit. The student wanting to thank her teacher – and not taking no for an answer – for helping her pass the class and graduate. (Not a trade of sexual favor for grades, but an unasked for reward for his extra time in tutoring her until she finally understood the material.) Or lovers reincarnated at slightly different times, leaving one ‘of age’ and the other not.

Here Cums Santa Claus

And then, of course, there’s Santa play. Santa is old and immortal. And while I, personally, wouldn’t feel right about the defamation of character inherent in putting Santa in a sexual situation with anyone under the age of puberty, what you do with your age play is your business. Santa and teenage girls, on the other hand . . .

Back in December of 1990, I picked up that month’s issue of “Badger” (Mike Baron’s second greatest contribution to comic books, right after his and Steve Rude’s “Nexus”). Anyway, issue #70 was entitled “Klaus”, and by time the story was well underway, the Badge ended up going on the Christmas run with a long-disillusioned and VERY surly Santa (now simply going by Klaus).

There’s this one panel where Klaus was taking a mid-run break, sitting on a couch in someone’s England home, with a sweet young thing sprawled across his lap. Their speech balloon dialogue:
“Well, Ashley, maybe you’d better show me those worn-out panties so Uncle Klaus is sure you really need all those things from Victoria’s Secret . . .”

“Okay . . . (Tee hee!) But we’ve got to be quiet . . . we don’t want to wake Mother!”

Yikes! Naughty Klaus! And yet, if I could get me a Santa suit and a (legal) sweet young thing . . . oh my! At any rate, that basic premise makes for a great age play scenario.

And you really don’t even need the jolly fat man himself for age play encounters. Christmastime age play can make do with just invoking the name.


“Yes, little girl?”

“If Santa’s so fat, how can he get down the chimney?”

Daddy’s answer is that he greases himself up, and that make him slide right down. His little girl doesn’t believe him. So a demonstration is called for. That night, just before bathtime, Daddy’s little girl lies naked on the bed, giggling.

“Little girl, is your pussy great big, or is it tiny?”

“It’s tiny, Daddy. (Giggle) You know that.”

“And is Daddy’s hand tiny, or is it big?”

“It’s big!”

“That’s right. Now, let’s say that your tiny little pussy is our chimney. And Daddy’s great big hand is Santa Claus. Now this tube of KY Jelly is Santa’s magic chimney grease . . .”

Age play + fisting.

Age Play Porn

Thinking about age play gets me horny. Sometimes I think about age play, and find myself wishing that I had some age play porn to jack off to.

But I’m not sure that age play porn actually exists. Oh, you can find erotic stories online here and there that deal with age play. But that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about being able to pop in a DVD and watch an man and a woman dressed in age play styled clothing acting their personas’ ages, and ending up having some kind of sexual encounter for the benefit of fueling my imagination and masturbatory habits.

About a year or so ago, someone brought me a disk full of assorted porn clips that they’d downloaded from various places online. One of those clips was from, and is the closest thing to actual age play porn that I’ve seen.

Technically, it’s incest fantasy porn (the clip is entitled “Brother Fucker”), the plot of which involves a guy convincing his reluctant sister to let him fuck her in the ass. But she’s dressed in plaid skirt and white shirt with necktie, and starts out laying on her stomach on the floor in front of the TV playing Mario Kart, knees bent, feet up in the air behind her. He’s in a t-shirt and shorts. And all throughout their encounter there is a repeated worry that ‘Mom’s going to come home and bust us’.

A few months later I got some more clips from (no more incest, but several more anal clips, and a couple of very nice footjob pieces). Same couple all the way through, apparently they’re real life husband and wife.

We Need a Porn Meme

The “Brother Fucker” clip got me thinking, oddly enough, about memes.

Someone with a blog will think up a clever question, and send it off to another blogger, ‘tagging’ him with the meme. That blogger answers the question, and then tags someone else. And on it goes.

Or like the more creative-oriented memes, like the Batgirl meme that hit the comics blog world a year or so back. The one where everyone with at least a crumb of artistic talent and a blog ended up drawing and posting their redesign of Batgirl.

I think that this is what we need. We need a porno meme. An age play porno meme. But not among the bloggers. No, we need this meme to circulate among everyone that has their own original content porn site.

Wifecrazy. Uh . . . hmm. Well, I’d like to give you a longer list of likely candidates here, but . . . if you’ll all remember, the source of my internet is the library of a Catholic seminary. I don’t think that their content filters will be a big help to me here. And I can’t remember any of the other sites that I’ve gotten downloaded clips from.

Anyway, you get my point. We should set a date several months in advance, and then send an age play challenge to everyone with their own porn site to post an age play porn video on that day.

Maybe exhibitionist amateurs will get in on the action and take home videos of some of their own age play encounters to dump into the Bit Torrent network on Age Play Meme Day. Who knows what craziness could occur?

Friday, February 27, 2009

Age Play (Part Four)

Part Three

Blah blah blah, not writing recap, blah blah blah, coming back later to post links to previous and next posts in series, blah blah blah, reissuing the Age Play is NOT Pedophilia Disclaimer [“Age play has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with pedophilia. Age play has nothing to do with actual biological children. It’s about adults playing with the concept of age as it relates to themselves. Legal adults pretending to be kids. And legal adults interacting with other legal adults who are pretending to be kids. Any sexual age play has no interaction with actual children.”], blah blah blah, why won’t anyone let me have sex with them?, blah blah blah blah blah . . .

Now on to some new babble.

Age Play and Me

From where I’m sitting, age play looks good to me. Of course, I’m not actually sitting anywhere near it. January’s age play sleepover was informative, but not really experiential. And the one Salem Littles Munch I’ve been to was four people, including myself.

I’ve been to no real age play parties (and certainly no sexually involved age play parties). Never had a dirty conversation with a female age player. Never had a clean conversation with a woman whom I knew to be into age play, for that matter.

I don’t even have an age play persona. Or personas. I’d be (or if we’re using optimism, “I will be”) a multiple persona guy. Because age play has several different categories with strong appeal to me.

And hey, since this is MY blog, and it usually a whole lot of me, me, me within these posts . . . let’s take a look at some of what interests me in this whole thing, shall we?

Not an AB/DL

The whole adult baby thing is not for me.

The adult-size pacifier is just frightening. Between my gag-reflex and my surgically repaired TMJ syndrome . . . uh-uh. No go. And diapers? Hmm. I’m a big fat man. In the summertime, I already have problems with rashes in what would be my ‘diaper rash’ zone. (Although, not nearly as much as when I still weighed 600 lbs. But still more than I’d like.) I don’t need to add urine-on-skin irritation to that.

That having been said . . . I can still see it’s appeal. Especially from the point of view of a chronically ill person with a far-too-active mind.

I can see where – if I could find a Mommy – it would definitely have it’s pluses. Being cared for. Completely. Not having to get up to use the bathroom. Not having to haul my tired carcass from chair to chair as I go about my day. Not even having to feed myself.

And most importantly: Not having to think. The thought of being able to regress to a mental state where my brain isn’t constantly playing with more ideas than I can ever use. Creating more stories than I could ever write, suggesting more blog topics than I have time to explore, tempting me with more and more shiny new concepts . . . Yeah, I think I could make use of quieting my brain for a time.

But . . . no. I just don’t see me being a diaper lover. Not an adult baby. Not even an age play toddler. It just doesn’t fit me personally. (I almost wish it did.)

Somewhere Between Ten and Twelve

Now here’s where I feel more at home. Around the end of the ‘school kid’ era and/or the beginning of the ‘teen’ category. That’s where the concept of sex all started for me. (Thank you, Penthouse!) That’s when I moved on from my platonic desires towards Sue (not her real name) to my lusty yearning for Rabbit (not her real name, either). That’s when I found out my penis had more functions than just urination.

That’s when I really, really, really wanted stuff to start happening.

The “I’ll Show You Mine If You Show Me Yours” Incident

I’m starting to realize that the entirety of what I think of as ‘my sex life’ has been a series of ‘almosts’. I almost had sex once. (Had a willing partner, but it turned out that we were geometrically implausible as sex partners.) I’ve almost had a blowjob. (Same woman – she’s sucked on my cock, but never for long enough to bring me close to orgasm.) And once, long ago, I almost played I’ll Show You Mine If You Show Me Yours.

Little Anathema lived just three houses down from me, on the other side of the street. And I was over there often. It was with her, behind a shed in her backyard, that this incident occurred.

It had been a slow progression of conversational events over a period of a month or so, all leading up to one day when we decided that we were both going to strip naked and let the other look at what we had.

I guess it wasn’t enough for us to drop pants and underwear and expose just the important anatomical selections. No, we each wanted to see the other NAKED.

It wasn’t so much that I wanted to see Little Anathema naked so much as I wanted to see some girl naked, and she was the only one I thought I could talk into it. I’m not so sure that the reverse was true. I saw Little Anathema as a friend. She, on the other hand, had a definite and obvious crush on me.

Anyway, we ended up behind the shed, and had the ‘who goes first’ conversation, settling on the classic arrangement of ‘we’ll both do it at the same time’. But before we could actually begin shedding the clothing that was inconveniently censoring that oh-so-close nudity . . . Little Anathema’s little sister Little Pest (not her real name – and did I really just use ‘little’ three words out of six immediately preceding the parenthesis? Weird.) appeared as if from nowhere, proclaiming, “I wanna play, too!”

Hmm. This did not bode well. We told her to go away. But she did not leave. She said that she wanted to see what I looked like naked. I said – as incredulously as I could – ‘what do you mean?’, and pretended that our plans had included nothing of the sort.

She then proceeded to tear off all of her clothing. And, standing there stark naked, told us that it was our turn. She’d stripped naked, and so now we HAD to. I really wasn’t looking at Little Pest. For one thing, my only concern was getting her to put her clothing back on, convincing her to go away, and then hopefully still getting to see Little Anathema’s nude body. And for another thing . . . Little Anathema was a year or so younger than me. But Little Pest was a couple of years younger than her. A naked Little Pest didn’t hold any interest for me whatsoever.

Both Little Anathema and I tried to convince Little Pest to get dressed again. We told her that we weren’t going to take our clothes off. And so, finally convinced that we really weren’t going to let her play I’ll Show You Mine If You Show Me Yours with us . . . she ran, stark naked into the house, crying, “Mom! Zeitgeist and Anathema—” (or whatever) “—won’t let me play with them!”

Yeah, that really didn’t turn out at all like I’d hoped. We were bright kids, so by time their Mom came out of the house, we were in the backyard, in plain sight, quietly playing as innocently as could be. (Such good little children. From a certain angle, I’m almost sure that you could see our halos.)

I was told to go home. And it was quite a while before I was allowed to come back. When I did, I was informed by Little Anathema that she’d been instructed to stay in full view of the house at all times when I was over, or punishment would ensue. No further opportunity for I’ll Show You Mine If You Show Me Yours would present itself.

Several months afterwards, they moved to the other end of town. Which, being a little kid around whom the world revolved, I just knew was a reaction to our attempts at playing I’ll Show You Mine If You Show Me Yours. (Actually, knowing their parents, I still think that the incident was a contributing factor in their decision to relocate.)

Yeah, I’ve seen naked females since then. (Porn has been good to me in that regard.) I’ve even seen some naked females in person a few times. I saw Dot(not her real name)’s tits and pussy. I got to see CJ (not her real name) fully naked on a number of occasions. (Actually, CJ and I have seen each other naked on a number of occasions.) And there have been a number of naked (or mostly naked) people at last year’s KinkFest, the Asylum Dungeon’s Halloween party, and a couple of Darklady parties.

But none of that has ever been the shy, curious, bargaining of nudity-for-nudity. The willingness to show mine in exchange for seeing hers. The innocent visual exploration of form, so normally hidden to prying eyes. And I want that. Age play could give me that.

Find a full grown woman who’s into age play (with a sexual connotation), and I could live out some of those early fantasies.

(Plus, Little Anathema was probably 9 or 10 at the time of the incident. Most likely flat, hairless, and poorly defined. Playing I’ll Show You Mine If You Show Me Yours now would be a much better show. Of course . . . back when I was still 10 or 11, I wasn’t yet the poster boy for obesity. Nor was I self-conscious about the size of my cock. I guess that everything’s got it’s pros and cons.)

The 10 – 12 year old persona would also let me tap into other fantasies – allowing me to act on my discontent over the fact that some of the guys in my fifth grade class were having sex, when I wasn’t. And fulfilling all manner of paper route sex fantasies.

Seventeen (Picking Up Where I Left Off)

This is the key, right here. The seventeen year old. This is why the original title of the age play post (back before I was convinced it would be a whole series of posts) was “I AM Age Play”.

If you’re a faithful reader of Time Delay, then you’ve heard this all before. But consider it in terms of age play. It is now early 2009. I was born in late 1970. Doing the math, that puts me at 38 years old.

However . . .

When I was 17 years old, I got sick. Really sick. Debilitating illness. It took five years to get a diagnosis (Chronic Fatigue Immune Dysfunction Syndrome). And since then, I’ve had any number of other woeful notations settle into my already ‘interesting’ medical files.

So: 17 years old. Chronically ill. I drop out of high school and pretty much live like a shut-in for the next 20 years. A few of my friends from high school still come around to visit and hang out. Johnny Dirtnap (not his real name), until he puts that bullet in his brain in 1995. Casper (not his real name) until he disappears into his own life in about 2000.

And, yeah, the insanity that was Dot’s entry into and exit from my life took place during the illness. As did my association with CJ. But aside from those few friends (for as long as they stuck with me) and family members, it’s been just me. Isolated. Little if no social development from the age of 17.

There’s this whole ‘clever’ birthday card philosophy that you aren’t 50 years old, you’re just 29 (with 21 years experience). Or that you’re turning 39 for the 11th time in a row. (My dad claims to be a multiple 39 year old, and thinks it’s the funniest joke in the world. But then Dad’s got a few screws loose, so . . . ) But I think I’ve got a semi-legitimate claim to being a 17 year old. When I was 17, someone pushed the ‘pause’ button on my life. I’ve had 20+ years of static since then. I’m a 38 year old 17 year old. Yikes.

And now we come to the sex-based part of this age play persona . . .

When I was 17, there were two basic types of women I was attracted to. Girls my own age (a range of about 16 to 20), and older women (figuring about mid-30s here).

The bad thing is that these are still the age ranges of women I’m really attracted to. And what’s even worse, is that that’s how my mind still thinks of them. I see a really sexy profile picture on FetLife, then check her age and discover that she’s 34, and the first thing I think is, “Ooh – an older woman . . . hot!” It takes me a few moments to realize that this ‘older woman’ is actually four years younger than me (which usually sets me off on a few minutes of internal “Oh, my God, the last 20 years of my life have been wasted!” depression).

The problems with me being a biologically 38-year old (chronically ill and obese) man with an eye for the 17 year old female has it’s own problems that are obvious. Even just ignoring the legal question, it’s perceived as just plain creepy.

Anyway . . .

The next subheading is “Thirty-Eight (Rolling)”, and as I sit here writing about my potential age play personas, to a large extent (not counting for the moment the previously discussed 10-12 year old) it’s really the 38 year old that is the persona. The 17 year old? That might actually be the real me.

Thirty-Eight (Rolling)

The adult. Given how often the concept of little/little interaction is ignored during any informal age play census, it’s the adult (or “big”) that is usually considered to be the other half of the age play equation.

The teacher. The coach. Scout leader. Babysitter. Parent. Other adult family member. Parent of your best friend. Or any of a number of other options.

Right now, I’m the thirty-eight year old. Last year I would have played the thirty-seven year old, had a chance for this sort of age play come my way. Next year, it will be thirty-nine. And so forth. It’s a rolling age. Probably easier just to label it ‘adult’, but since I put an age or age range on the previous two, I thought I should follow suit here as well.

And, yes . . . I do have sexual age play fantasies that cast me in the role of the big.

The incestuous Daddy/daughter relationship, for one. Which is something that I’d probably have to approach as an abstract concept to get around the hardwired rules against child abuse in my brain. But that grown woman . . . in schoolgirl plaid, clutching a teddybear, and presenting a child-like demeanor and calling me ‘Daddy’ . . . yeah, that’s got some definite potential there.

I’m always fantasizing about having a relationship. The girlfriend, later wife. That’s a common one. Fantasies of having a collared submissive, or a slave – those are some of the better ones. But I also tend to wonder about what it would be like to have a ‘little girl’. To be the daddy in someone’s age play relationship.

I could take on the 10 – 12 year old age play persona and do a lot with it. But when I think about doing kinky age play sex as a little, whether it’s with other youngsters, with an abstract Mommy, or with another big, it’s just a series of scenarios. A bunch of little scenes.

If I were to ever be in a 24/7 age play relationship (or even something approaching that) I don’t think it could be me as a little with an ‘older’ Mommy. The school kid era is a nice place to visit, but I wouldn’t wanna live there.

No, if I was ever in an ongoing, long-term big/little age play situation, I’d have to be the big. It would be the adult me and an age play ‘girl’.

Okay. One more to go, and then we’re out of the age play series and back to the usual miscellany.

Part Five

Thursday, February 26, 2009

The Road to KinkFest - 29 Days and Counting

Holy Crap! Less than a month left now. Still many, many things to do. And now only roughly half the time in which to do them since back when these ‘Road to KinkFest’ reports first started.
KinkFest 2009 – SOLD OUT!

Well, the PLA (or whoever the Hell is in charge of this thing) has announced that they’ve stopped taking membership applications for the event. KinkFest is now officially sold out. (Which makes me OH SO VERY GLAD that I picked up my membership nearly a month ago.)


On the transportation issue, if all else fails, my sister has (tentatively) agreed to come up and bring me back home if there’s no other option. But I still haven’t officially managed to score a ride up to the event. I’m not overly worried about it, though. Something’ll work out. The wishy-washiness that is Zorch’s scheduling ability hasn’t yet confirmed him being out of state during that week, so I still might be able to get him to ferry me to and from the event. (Although, Zorch being Zorch, I might not get confirmation on that until the last possible minute. Fuckin’ Zorch.)


People have started posting requests for hotel roommates during the event on FetLife’s KinkFest group (along with some of the other Pacific Northwest oriented groups.) I’ve responded to a few of these. One of them I wasn’t quick enough for. Another one I turned out to be the wrong gender for. (Which was sad, because I was hoping that we’d get to know each other during our in room time, hit it off, and she’d agree to play with me in the dungeon. She’s not only hot, but there’s a lot of correlation between our fetishes.)

Anyway, fearing that I wouldn’t make anyone’s roommate cut before the hotel ran out of available rooms at the convention rate, I went ahead and reserved a room, then posted my own ‘looking for a roommate’ notice. I’ve had one bite thus far (which really, is all it takes), and we’re conversing to make arrangements and whatnot. Hopefully, this means that somebody other than me is definitely paying for half of the room I’m staying in. Yay!

Right now I’ve got enough incoming money earmarked for my half of the hotel room. Membership is already paid for. So now my remaining financial worries are food money for the weekend, and spending money for the vendor’s area.

Anyone interested in making a donation to the Help Send Zeitgeist the Clown to KinkFest in Style (or At Least More Style Than That of a Poverty-Stricken Lummox) Fund can send an inquiry to Zeitgeist_the_Clown at Yahoo dot com. (The obvious substitutions need to be made in the aforementioned email address for optimum functionality. Hopefully swapping out the “@” and “.” in the listed address will keep the robots from trying to sell my cheap Viagra.)

Play Partners

My goal of lining up a play partner (or play partners) prior to the event is still nowhere in sight. And after all that work I’ve put in over the past week and a half, sitting in my chair with a fucked-up back, a pulled muscle in my leg, and a bad cold – going nowhere near the internet and contacting NO kinky potentials. Sheesh! (Oh, wait – now I get it! I was supposed to be doing the OPPOSITE of that! D’oh!)

Saturday night I’ll be sitting at home. Probably either working on a post for the following week, or trying to write some erotica for Literotica’s 2009 Lit Survivor Competition. (Or, even more likely, watching DVDs of House.) Why? Because I don’t drive.

Don’t drive, and don’t live close to anyone who’s traveling in the direction that I want to go. Saturday night, I should be going to the Asylum’s monthly play party. It’s their pre-KinkFest party, and despite my tendency to just sit on the sidelines and watch silently, I tell myself that if I were to go, I’d talk to people who were going to KinkFest. I’d meet people, and I’d line up a play partner or two for the KinkFest dungeon. (Not to mention possibly getting a little BDSM action right then and there at the Asylum.)

I’m still hoping to get some prearranged activities lined up before hand. But time’s running out. 29 days and counting down.

The Schedule

The workshop schedule looked the same yesterday as it did when I talked about it last time. (At least, the workshops that I plan on attending were still all in the same place.) I’m keeping my fingers crossed that it stays that way.


I was thinking about trying to procure some kind of fetishwear prior to KinkFest. (This is, for the most part, a whimsical idea. I intend write a post next month about fetishwear, and the working title of this potential masterpiece is “UFOs, Bigfoot, Atlantis, and Affordable Size 4/5X Fetishwear for Men”.)

Despite the obvious problems in dressing up for kink, I wanted to at least make an effort. I was thinking about trying to pick up a (cheap) black leather vest. I found an online biker goods store that had a 4X plain leather vest for $30. (No, I wasn’t sure where the $30 would have come from, but this was still all a work-in-progress in my head at that point anyway.)

I was almost ready to talk to my aunt (who occasionally buys me clothing if she finds something in my size on sale at Fred Meyer), and see if I could come up with a reason (without mentioning my attending a BDSM conference) why I might legitimately need a black leather vest. And then something occurred to me. If I got this vest, I’d have to spend the entirety of KinkFest standing behind something. Because – as a 450 lb man – the entirety of my from-waist-to-ankle wardrobe selections consist of sweatpants.

So, I’m trying to picture this. Black leather vest over black t-shirt. And as the field of view tilts down . . . faded and ratty black sweats. Yeah, it doesn’t scream Dom as much as it just makes me giggle a little. So . . . no fetishwear this year. Maybe if I lose another massive chunk of weight before NEXT March, then we’ll look into the fetishwear thing for KinkFest 2010.

The Top Ramen Horror Continues

I’m trying to find alternate means of coming up with money for KinkFest than just slashing my (already pathetic) food budget. But I’m needle-phobic and chronically ill, so trying to sell my blood is probably a no-go. And since I can’t get anyone to have sex with me for free, I doubt I’d be able to find paying customers if I turned gigolo.

But in the meantime, I continue eating bowl after bowl of Top Ramen in an effort to save money. With the occasional frozen pizza or egg sandwich thrown in to keep me from going completely insane.

Age Play (Part Three)

Part Two

Aside from reissuing the Age Play Is Not Pedophilia disclaimer [Age play has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with pedophilia. Age play has nothing to do with actual biological children. It’s about adults playing with the concept of age as it relates to themselves. Legal adults pretending to be kids. And legal adults interacting with other legal adults who are pretending to be kids. Any sexual age play has no interaction with actual children.], I’m not writing recaps of the previous installments in this series of posts.

Once all five (or four, or six, or whatever the final count ends up being) posts in the series are up on the blog, I’ll go back and post ‘Previous’ and ‘Next’ links in the Age Play set, so that you can more easily jump from one to the other. But the thought of trying to write recaps makes all the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

Age Play and X Play

Sometimes, age play is fused with another kind of role play. When I was at Inky’s age play slumber party last month, I got to see photos of some AB parties that Inky and Baby E (not his real name) had attended in the past. And a lot of the people at those parties were biological adult males whose personas were those of baby girls. Age play and gender play, rolled into one.

This is also where we run into the concept of nested roleplay. Personas built like those Russian nesting dolls, one inside the other.

30 year old Maria plays 8 year old Mary. 8 year old Mary plays the kitty-cat Ginger. At first glance, it just looks like Maria doing pet play, pretending to be a cat. But it’s actually something far more complex than that.

Adults don’t pretend. That’s what we’ve been taught to believe. Adults can lie. They can ignore. They can write stories. But none of that is ‘pretending’. Because pretending is something that adults don’t do – unless they’re interacting with little kids, and then it’s just something that they’re doing to humor them. The adults aren’t actually pretending, they’re just helping the kids to pretend. (The concept that the facts of the previous sentence would indicate that the adults are pretending to pretend would be lost on them.)

So, for a lot of people, they don’t pretend. They can’t pretend. I’m not saying that they’re not capable of it, I’m saying that it’s something that most people simply can’t bring themselves to do. Like committing murder, or voting for Ralph Nader. Yes, it’s physically possible, but you just CAN’T do it.

Role play during sex is easier. It’s behind the closed doors of the bedroom, so no one will ever know except you and your partner. (Unless either you or your partner are blabbermouths . . . or bloggers, which is kinda the same thing.)

Kids, on the other hand, pretend all the time. Let’s pretend. Make believe. Good guys and bad guys. Let’s run a nice clean political campaign. (Hee hee! Not even kids play that one – it’s way beyond simple suspension of disbelief, even for the imagination of a child!)

Kids pretend. Age players want to reclaim aspects of childhood, which mean that littles should strive to pretend, too, right? And therein lies the age play combination plate. A little age play, and a little of this. Maybe a little of that. And some of these kinks and fetishes for good measure.

Pet Play

I’ve seen kids on all fours insisting that they were dogs. Sometimes in English (“I’m a dog!”). Other times in dog (“Arf! Arf!”), refusing to break character to explain themselves if you didn’t get it from the barking.

I’ve never witnessed adult petplay. (At least, I don’t think I have. I’ve seen a few people on all fours, being led around the KinkFest dungeon on leashes. But I think that was just plain old collar and leash fetishism.) I have, however, heard (or read in posts online) people talking about how ‘even if they were into that’ it’s not something that they could ever bring themselves to do.

Okay. So, a lot of adults just couldn’t bring themselves to pretend to be a dog. Or a cat. Or a pony. Or somebody’s pet alligator.

But a kid? Kids do that stuff all the time. And if kids do it, then littles no doubt do it.

So if an adult is interested in pet play – but wouldn’t ever do it – and is compelled to do age play . . . then why wouldn’t their age play persona pretend to be a pet?

It’s like the early days of Spider-Man. Peter Parker was shy. Quiet. But once that mask went on his head, then he could crack wise, insult villains, and even mouth off to Peter Parker’s boss. Why? Because Spider-Man could do things that Peter Parker couldn’t.

Spider-Man is a persona. And age play is a mask. A little can do things that an adult (note the use of the word ‘adult’ instead of the corresponding ‘big’) cannot. Like running around on all fours barking.

Gender Play

I’m not really sure how old I was when it started. Five or six, maybe. But there came a point at which I started playing with my cousin a lot. Actually, it’s not so much that I was playing with her as it was that she was spending a lot of time over at my house. And actually, she wasn’t so much my cousin as she was just me in a wig.

How a wig ended up in my toybox, I couldn’t tell you. But somehow one did. A brown, curly wig. For awhile, it was just a generic hairy monster. (And the world’s worst hand puppet. Scuttle along, scuttle along. Roar.)

But then one day I put the thing on my head and went downstairs. I went into the kitchen, where Mom was doing dishes. And when Mom saw me, she asked, “And who are you?” At which point I introduced myself using a female name (a name I can’t remember, which bugs the Hell out of me), and told her that I was ‘my’ cousin. And Mom, God bless her, ran with it. Whenever I wore the wig, that’s who I was.

In my memory, my cousin hung around for a long, long time, but I have reason to doubt my memory on that. For one thing, if Dad would have ever caught me pretending to be a girl, he would have gone ballistic. (I do remember that whenever my cousin was around and it was time for Dad to come home, Mom would tell her to go upstairs and tell ‘me’ to come down.) I figure that it probably went on for about a month or so. I know that at one point the wig simply disappeared. I thought that I’d misplaced it. Lost it. I have a feeling it was taken from me. Anyway, the cousin went away.

And that’s one of the things that children sometimes do. A lot of parents freak out when kids play a form of ‘make-believe’ that puts them in opposite gender roles, but there are apparently child psychologists out there who assure us that it’s a normal developmental phase.

And when done in an age play context, this could be another case of an interest in crossdressing that you can’t bring yourself to indulge. But something that can affect the dress-up and make-believe of your age play persona.

It could be a female with a tomboy persona, or a male with a ‘sissy’ persona. (Little boy who ended up as a living doll for his older sister, who was really hoping that Mom would have had another girl.)

Or, it could be as simple as the type of gender diverse individuals you find in the world bringing their own gender identities into their age play roles.


CosPlay nested within age play is called ‘playing dress-up’.

You can lay in supplies for this at Goodwill, or in Wal*Mart’s clearance aisle the day after Halloween. Pretend Mommy and Daddy keep you supplied in neat costumes. Or . . . are you thin? Go pick up some Plus-Size/Big and Tall clothing and recreate the whole Dressing Up In Mommy And Daddy’s Clothes game.

Of course, outside of nested play, there are other interesting CosPlay/age play combinations.

Are you male? Is your head either bald or shaved? Heh heh. Get yourself some black short pants, and an orange-yellow shirt with a thick black zig-zag stripe down near the bottom. Then you can do some sexual age play that will make cartoonist Charles Shultz turn over in his grave.

Buy your partner a blue dress (is it a dress? I can’t believe that I don’t have any visual reference for Peanuts here amongst my stacks of crap!) and a black wig. Maybe throw in some fantasy rape. Act out what happens when Lucy pulls away the football one time too many, and Charlie Brown finally snaps.

Or, go the less classic, more modern route. Instead of Charlie Brown and Lucy van Pelt, be Calvin and Susie Derkins. (Or combine CosPlay, age play, and furry, and have a Calvin/Susie/Hobbes three-way. Why, yes, there IS something wrong with my brain, whyever do you ask?)

And while I don’t condone re-enacting Harry Potter erotic fanfic, I suppose there’s nothing I can do to stop you.

The Age Play Yo-Yo

You know what else little kids do? They play house. (No, not House. They don’t pretend to be irascible diagnostic medicine specialists addicted to vicodin. They play house, with a lower-case ‘h’. Try to keep up.) Little girls convince little boys to play husband and wife with them (actually, it’s usually ‘mommy and daddy’ to a doll).

Little kids role playing grown-ups. So what happens when you have age players playing house?

Grown-ups role playing little kids role playing grown-ups. (Yowza.) I said that there would be nesting going on in today’s post. You don’t get a lot more nested than this.

What do little kids really know about being adults? They’ve got jobs, so they’ve got money to spend. And they get to drive cars. Woo-hoo! Being an adult must be great!

Of course, real adults know better. They know about responsibilities. Bills. The price of gas and insurance. Not enough time in the day. Stress. Prostate cancer. More problems than you really want to think about. Escape into age play seems ideal. But playing house? Playing grown-up? That gives you the chance to play the uber-simplified, idealized version of an adult that you always figured you were going to grow up to be.

I sometimes think of it as ‘Jet Pack Theory’. Our future was supposed to be filled with food pills, flying cars, and personal jet packs. An ideal life, but one that didn’t happen. Just like the idealized adult life our younger selves assumed we’d have, but didn’t.

Other Simplified Roleplay Scenarios

Other things that kids play: Cops and robbers. Cowboys and Indians. (Both of which are classically rife with bondage possibilities – the robbers tying up a hostage, or the cops slapping the robbers into cuffs. The Indians tying someone to a tree.)

I played Spacemen and Aliens when I was a kid. Same basic game, but with a sci-fi twist, and based largely on a set of plastic soldier-like toy spacemen I got for Christmas one year. There was also a lot of Superheroes and Supervillains being played.

(Then a couple of years later I discovered Dungeons and Dragons, from which point forward most of my roleplaying activities took place seated at a table with a handful of dice and a player character sheet of some sort.)


Kids will play just about any damn thing. Why? Because kids have wild imaginations. Who else but little kids can go on a crazy adventure in a cardboard refrigerator box?

Unless you have a legitimate reason to be using your imagination (being an artist, or a writer, or having a similar occupation or hobby), it tends to atrophy in adults. They get jobs, stop thinking outside the box, and start watching reality television.

Age play is an excuse to try and rebuild your imagining skills.

[Now that I think about it, it really wouldn’t surprise me if I were to learn that (non-sexual) age play had become a mandatory activity as part of creativity exercises at high-level corporate retreats. Man, someone should put me in charge of high-level corporate retreats.]

The Intersection of Age Play and Other Facets of BDSM

And then there’s all the other stuff that age play might cross over with. There’s lots of BDSM stuff that can get thrown into the mix.

We already mentioned the bondage potential with Cowboys and Indians/Cops and Robbers. But there’s also the Discipline aspect of the classic B&D. Things like a schedule of chores, dinnertime, bedtime. Did you wash before dinner? Did you brush your teeth before bed? If not, there are always punishments that can be handed out, buster.

A D/s age play relationships could be easily summarized by the phrase “Young lady, so long as you’re living under my roof, you will do what I say, is that understood?”

And as for S&M . . . well, you’ve got the whole spanking-as-punishment thing going on. There’s also the emotional edgeplay of introducing pain into an age play relationship to walk the fine line of consensual nonconsensual physical abuse play. Not for everybody, and probably a bad idea for people who were raised by actual abusive parents.

Kids are always getting into stuff. And ending up covered in stuff. Either filthy or colorful. Or both. Playing with liquid latex ‘finger paints’ is a fun idea for body paining fans. Those who are just into the whole wet-and-messy scene can indulge in that as a prelude to bathtime. Food fight, anyone?

Kids are also always falling down and scraping their knees, elbows, and other exposed areas, which makes for a good link with abrasion play. Cuts (cutting), scrapes (abrasion), bruises (deep marking), and sometimes even more serious injuries (bloodplay?) are typical of wild and crazy children running around, screaming like maniacs, bumping into things, and falling over.

And afterwards, a Band-Aid or three to cover up the boo-boos. (Which is also a fetish of sorts. Johnny Dirtnap had that one. Always said that there was very little in this world sexier than a woman wearing nothing but a single Band-Aid. When they started running commercials for the birth control patch – a Band-Aid like device whose purpose was inherently sexual – I thought he was going to cum in his pants.)

I’ve noticed that some toddlers consider running around naked to be one of the greatest joys in life. And while older kids usually wear clothes, they tend to avoid shoes and socks in summertime whenever possible. So exhibitionism, voyeurism, foot fetishism, it can all tie into age play.

Hair fetishism is a good mix with age play. Every thing from littles in pigtails to mean boys pulling hair.

If you really work at it, you can probably find a scenario to connect almost any fetish to age play. One little is so determined to win at hide and seek that he’s not going to call attention to his hiding place no matter what happens. Not even when the little girl – obviously desperate and with no bathroom around – finally goes around the corner to a secluded spot and relieves herself right into the bush he’s hiding in. Age play + Watersports.

Okay. That’s it for now. More tomorrow. (Well, more age play post tomorrow. More blog post in about, uh, four minutes or so.)

Part Four

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

Age Play (Part Two)

Part One

Back problems. Leg problems. Rhinovirus. Hippovirus. Low flying UFO scattering my chickens all over the neighborhood.

Okay, that last one isn’t entirely accurate. I don’t have any chickens. And now that I think about it, I’m not sure that there’s such a thing as a hippovirus (although, if there was, I’m sure that I’d be the one to get it.). But the rest of it has kept me from sitting at the computer and writing blog entries. And even if they hadn’t kept me from writing, they’d’ve still kept me from climbing that fucking hill to get to the library to actually post blog entries. That’s why this is so incredibly late. Sorry.

* ** *** ** *

This is where the recap would go, if I was going to bother to do a recap. Instead, once this series is finished, I’m planning on coming back and editing these posts to include links to the ‘previous’ and ‘next’ posts in the series.

I will, however, go ahead and repeat one of the disclaimers from the Part One: Age play has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with pedophilia. Age play has nothing to do with actual biological children. It’s about adults playing with the concept of age as it relates to themselves. Legal adults pretending to be kids. And legal adults interacting with other legal adults who are pretending to be kids. Any sexual age play has no interaction with actual children.

I felt that needed to be restated, in case you missed Part One, and didn’t want to go back and read it. (Also, age play has nothing to do with dissociative identity disorder, more commonly known as multiple personality disorder.)

Investment in Role

For some people, age play is just another one of a handful of things in their sexual fantasy toolbox.

For example: Lingerie, bondage, role play, costumes, age play, feathers, talking dirty, blindfolds, porn, and fantasy rape. See? It’s in there, but so are a lot of other things. It doesn’t really stand out. It’s just one of a bunch of different options for whoever’s list that is.

For these people, there might be an outfit or two. She might have a little school girl outfit. He may have saved his letterman jacket from high-school football. Maybe there’s a teddy bear that gets pulled off of a shelf on age play night.

But the roles – if they go as far as to have put any thought into roles other than just ‘younger’ – are disposable. Be a little schoolgirl for the night. Fuck the little schoolgirl, then throw her away. Go back to being a 27 year old woman and go to sleep with a post-orgasmic smile on your face.

But then you’ve got the people for whom their age play isn’t just a casual thing. People who are invested in their roles. People with recurring characters in their fantasy play.

The same name each time. The same backstory. (Always evolving, always growing.) The same cast of ‘off-screen’ characters. (“Why are you crying?” “My brother was mean to me!” If they have a brother once, they’ll always have a brother.) These roles aren’t easily disposable. (Nothing you put work into ever is.)

And sometimes, it goes from being a role, to an actual persona. It’s not so much a role you play as a personality you develop. (One you choose to develop – not a disorder like the DID/MPD label that some people try to slap onto age players.) A personality that they can step into, wear like a second skin, and don’t even have to think about. No need to study your lines, like a role – you’re not playing your character, you ARE this character, as well as being your usual self.

The full-on age play persona is far more than just one choice from a list of kinks.

Of course, for still others, their age play persona doesn’t stem from a kink list in the first place. There’s simply no sexual component to it at all. (Yet another group of people who probably won’t have sex with me. Sigh.)

Persona Building

There’s this guy named Terry Bollea. I don’t know if you recognize the name or not, but he’s pretty famous. Not as ‘himself’. Not as Terry Bollea. But as his persona, his alter-ego. As Hulk Hogan. Terry Bollea went through several different ring names before ‘becoming’ Hulk Hogan. I suspect that those were all just roles he was playing. But once he started being Hulk Hogan, it quickly developed into a persona. Terry Bollea didn’t just play Hulk Hogan. He WAS Hulk Hogan.

Jim Henson (may he rest in peace) was a real person. He always insisted that Kermit the Frog was just one of a number of puppets he performed. (Or, for the purposes of this post, just a role he played.) Most of the people who knew him, however, said that Kermit was a persona. Jim’s alter-ego. (Weirdly, Kermit was a persona that survived the death of his . . . what? Host? Yeah, let’s go with ‘host’. Anyway, once Jim Henson died, Kermit was still a merchandisable image and therefore considered a legitimate character for use by whoever owned the Muppets at the time. Kermit, now ‘played’ by Steve Whitmire – among others – is no longer anyone’s persona.)

In their beginning, personas are developed much like roles are constructed. Certain things are needed. A name. Personality. Cast of characters – either how your persona interacts with real people, or fictional ‘off-stage’ people that your persona has interacted with in it’s history. Oh yeah, and a history. Background, backstory, what-have-you. Race, class, hit points, armor class, feats and skill points, – wait, no . . . those last six were all D&D. (Sorry.)

Oftentimes, picking a name is the first step.

Some people pick the childlike diminutive of their adult name – Joey instead of Joe, Katie instead of Kate. Others choose a different name altogether. Sally instead of Miriam. Billy instead of Steve.

You could pick a name you’ve always liked. (“Why, or why, couldn’t my parents have named me Rufus?”) Steal the name of your grade school best friend. Ask your lover what their favorite name is, and see if that clicks with you.

Once you’ve got a name, the next logical step is determining what age category your persona is. AB? Toddler? School kid? Brain in a jar? Teen? Post-teen/pre-adult? Adult? [If you answered ‘Brain in a jar’, then you chose the trick answer, and owe me $50. Gotcha, sucker!]

Then it’s a question of who you want to be. Let’s say that you’re 30 years old, and your age play persona is going to be 9. Some aspects of the persona’s personality are generally obvious. Open up your personality control panel, and move your ‘maturity’ slider way down. Move your ‘silliness’ slider up a ways. There are classic personality differences between the young and the old that are almost stock.

Really think about who that 9 year old is. What does your persona want to be when it grows up? Is it the same occupation that your 30 year old self has? (If so, congratulations on landing your dream job.)

History. Where did he or she come from? What were the first 9 years like? (And while you’re looking at history, who are the major players in your persona’s life? The same family members you had at that age? Or even the same family structure? This could be starting over for you – pick what you want. And if you’ve got an age play partner, are they taking on a parental role? If so, work with them to get their persona integrated into your own backstory. And no, this doesn’t have to be a complex thing. It can be, if you’re detail oriented, but it can be as simply as getting the names right, and having a couple of pleasant shared stories from the past.)

Once you get this all put together in your head, you can get a better grip on who your persona is. (And fun little things like what they know – versus what they are completely ignorant about, and need Mommy or Daddy to teach them.)

I don’t have an age play persona yet (something I’ll talk about later on in a later installment), but if I did/when I do, I suspect that everything that that persona knows about sex is information he learned from his best friend (who learned it from his older brother, who got the info from locker room talk). Mostly accurate as far as what goes where, but still a woefully incomplete sexual education that will need filling in by either a patient older tutor, or by trial and error with a same-age experimenter.

Multiple Personas

Well, since I used Terry Bollea/Hulk Hogan for an example earlier (and here’s hoping you’re all familiar enough with pro-wrestling to understand this reference), Mick Foley is a person. Cactus Jack, Mankind, and Dude Love are all personas. One wrestler, three different ring identities. All of which are radically different from each other.

I’m another decent example. Zeitgeist the Clown is at least somewhat persona like. (He’d be more so if I had more internet time for him to stretch his wings.) But that’s not the only persona I’ve ever used, either online or in the print zine community back in the day.

Sometimes, a single persona just isn’t enough. This is true in age play. Having a fully developed six to eight year old persona is fine, if that’s all you want to do. But if you’ve got an equal investment in being an early teen (say, thirteen to fourteen years old), then having that second persona allows you to pursue both age category interests.

Variable Persona

And other times . . . well, some people want multiple age categories, but only the one persona.

A little girl with an age range that covers both toddler and early school kid. With her position on the grid dependent on how she feels (and what she wants to do) at any given time.

Wardrobe, Props, and Sets

Is just ‘knowing’ that you’re currently a baby, or a kid, or a teenager good enough to satisfy the needs of the persona? Maybe. Maybe not. I’m sure it is for some. Others need props. Triggers.

And even if you don’t actually need things like props and wardrobe . . . come on, who doesn’t like toys and playing dress-up?

The Age Play Clothes Closet

Serious age players are big on wardrobe. Obviously, AB/DLs are diaper-wearers. But they also like the baby clothes that go with them. Onesies. Footed pajamas. Cute little overalls with cartoon characters on them. (All, of course, in adult sizes, usually custom made)

School kids can be found dressed in school clothes. Either the kind of things that Mom buys in late August for them to wear on the first day of school, or school uniforms, depending on where the persona is said to be going for their education. Sport team uniforms are also a good choice for this age play range, as are scout uniforms.

And as for teens . . . well, it all depends. I suspect that one of the major trends would be toward something I can only think to call rebellion-wear. Ripped jeans. Skirts that are just a little too short. T-shirts that straddle the line of inappropriateness. (Or smirk rudely while standing firmly on the wrong side of that line.)

And speaking of t-shirts (and other clothing with images printed thereupon) – licensed character motifs seem to be a common sight in the wardrobes of some age players. This kind of themed clothing for the younger littles (AB/DLs and school kids) include Sesame Street, the Muppets, Winnie the Pooh, Mickie Mouse, Donald Duck, the Disney Princesses, Curious George, Thomas the Tank Engine, Peanuts, Garfield, Bob the Builder, Looney Tunes, Dora the Explorer, Barney the Dinosaur, Babar, and any other character from children’s-oriented entertainment that you can think of.

Moving up a notch to the school kid/teenager overlap, the themes change to include things like Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Transformers, Star Wars, Comic Book Super-Heroes (Batman, Superman, Spider-Man, the Hulk, and any other popular Marvel or DC character), and video-game characters (from the kid-friendly Mario up through Resident Evil and beyond).

Teddy Bears (and Elephants, Turtles, Aardvarks, Walruses, Buffaloes, etc.)

Stuffed animals. (Or ‘aminals’, depending on the speech capacity of your age play persona.) A key prop among age players.

(Oh, here’s some more information about me. I want to get into age play, and I want to do it primarily for its sexual aspects. That’s not the information, you all knew that already. Age players are big on stuffed animals. (As are furries, but that’s a post for some other time.) I am not, however, interested in any type of sexual interaction with stuffed animals. In fact – and this may seem weird, but here it goes – stuffed animals are one of my HARD LIMITS. They’re a sexual deal breaker. I’m a fairly open-minded guy, but one of the times when I find myself closest to adopting the “your kink is NOT ok” mindset is when I’m thinking about people who fuck teddy bears and their plush brethren.)

Kids today (and, of course, modern littles) have access to things like Build-a-Bear. Which, makes me all kinds of jealous. When I was younger, teddy bears didn’t have pajamas. Or pants, shirts, and jackets. They certainly didn’t have boxer shorts.

A favorite plush (to sleep with, to confide in, or just to drag around everywhere you go) is an important tool. It’s someone you can age play with when there aren’t any humans around to participate.

A teddy bear (or other form of stuffed critter) is sometimes just a soft knick-knack, gathering dust. But other times? Other times it’s an imaginary friend with a real body.

The Age Play Room

What happens when you’ve got a one-bedroom couple living in a two-bedroom dwelling? (Or a two-bedroom family in a three bedroom dwelling, or something with similar mathematic consequences.) Sometimes it means that there’s a whole room given over to storage. Sometimes that ‘extra’ room becomes an office. Other times it’s the guest room. There are seventeen gazillion different options for it. But when age players have an extra room in their house or apartment, it oftentimes will become the age play room.

I’ve heard stories about AB/DL houses with a ‘baby room’. Compete with an extra large, extra extra sturdy changing table. And an adult-sized crib with colorful mobile overhead.

If your persona is older, then the extra room becomes a school kid’s bedroom. Toys, books, a desk (for homework or for coloring), and so on.

But really, when you get right down to it, it’s not having the physical space to play that matters as much as having the mental space.


BDSM activities (and some of the things that generally get placed in the BDSM category, simply for a lack of anywhere else to put them) tend to deal a lot in ‘headspace’. During a heavy scene, a submissive or bottom will sink into something commonly called ‘subspace’.

Originally, subspace was a reference to the physical and mental state a sub attains during heavy pain play. The psychological response of the mind separating the sub from their physical environment, usually making them withdraw inside themselves, oftentimes making them go all babbly and incoherent. (Huh. My pal Zorch isn’t into BDSM at all, and yet, from what I just described, he’s in subspace all the time. My friends and I have just always called it ‘being in Zorchland’.) At the same time, there’s a physiological response – a rush of adrenaline and the release of endorphins – to the pain.

But I’ve also heard about a type of subspace from people that don’t do the whole paddle, whip, and flogger stuff. Subs who get off on submitting to their Doms, and enter into this second definition of subspace by being ordered around by someone they’ve come to trust as having their best interests (both physical well-being, and what they need to get from their BDSM activities) at heart . . . and then following those orders without question.

They describe this form of subspace as feeling ‘small, protected, and owned’. Definitely more psychological than physiological under this definition. But still obviously a real definable state to them.

Now, while I’ve never seen the term used, it only stands to reason that there exists a ‘littlespace’. A point at which pretending to be younger than you are becomes something else. More than ‘just’ pretending, for one thing.

Last month, when I spent the night at Inky’s age play sleepover, Baby E (not his real name) was talking about how he would sometimes regress (mentally and emotionally) to the state of a two-year old. Sometimes with the aid of a toy used as a kind of meditation device, other times just when he felt completely comfortable enough to let it happen on its own.

The next day, on the way to the age play munch, I got to see it happen. (Actually, I saw that it had happened. I missed watching the actual transformation, but one moment he was an adult, and the next time I looked at him he’d become a baby.)

Most of his verbal skills were gone. Once we got into the restaurant he tried to put anything he could get hold of into his mouth (silverware, crayons, etc.), and Inky not only ordered Baby E’s food but also fed him. He spent some time fascinated by my voluminous facial hair.

Baby E’s regression would be at the extreme end of what I imagine littlespace to be. Closer to the other end of the scale (and probably more easily obtainable to most people) would be something like coloring with crayons and feeling the relaxation hit you, coupled with the realization that “this feels right to me”.

And Speaking of Space

This may seem like a completely arbitrary ruling, given that I’ve cranked out 6700 word long posts in the past, but . . . I’ve decided that this is the point at which we’re out of space for today.

I’ll be back tomorrow (no, really – I’ve got tomorrow’s post already written and everything) with part three of the Age Play series.

Part Three

Monday, February 16, 2009

Age Play (Part One)

It’s Age Play Week here on Time Delay. I had originally planned on this material running during the first week of February, but other stuff happened instead of me getting it written, so it ended up getting (what else?) time delayed until now.

I had hoped to have the entire series finished before I posted any of it. Guess what? That didn’t happen. My plan was for marathon writing sessions over the weekend. Instead I screwed up my back on Friday, making it horribly painful for me to sit in front of my computer. (It’s getting better, and I’m hoping to produce more than just a single post a day so that I finish the series a day or two before the final installment needs posting. But, no promises.)

At this point, it looks like a five-parter, but it could easily go either four or six, depending on whether I’ve got enough topic, whether I’ve got too much topic, and – as always – the whims of fate.

Fantasies and Other Preconceived Notions

I can’t really tell you when age play first made it onto my radar. I know that back in the early to mid 80s, I saw an issue of Penthouse Letters with a pictorial of a woman named Wendy Welles, who at 21 years old was 4’7” and weighed 75 lbs. It included pictures of her in braided pigtails, stripping out of little girl’s clothing. And sitting naked on a hobby horse.

But age play was probably something I found reference to on the internet years ago which got my attention, and upon further research, made me horny.

Sexual roleplay is one of those things that just feels right to me. And the age play subcategory of that . . . oh, yes please. The thought of having sex with a grown woman pretending to be a little girl? (Anything from that always sexy white-shirt-and-plaid-skirt schoolgirl outfit to pigtails with a teddy bear under one arm and a thumb in her mouth.) It makes me hard just thinking about it.

The thought of a sexual encounter with someone while I pretend to be a twelve-year-old, sexually curious boy? Either being caught peeping as a means of an anatomy lesson, or the classic paperboy’s fantasy of getting a blowjob for a month’s subscription to the paper when the lady of the house can’t find her checkbook. Or any number of other scenarios.

And best of both worlds, my ‘little boy’ playing with her ‘little girl’ and having the encounter turn all the right kinds of naughty.

That was my initial understanding of age play. And, just like my initial understanding of BDSM (as explained not very long ago in my “BDSMI” post), age play turns out to be a much more diverse subject than just another way for people to fuck.

The Standard Disclaimers

There are also some preconceived notions about age play that seem to crop up among other people (usually those who aren’t interested in it at all, but find fault with it nevertheless). It’s been my experience that it’s rare to find any material on age play that doesn’t include a blurb addressing at least one if not both of the big ones. And since that is the custom, then I, too, shall comply.

Age play has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with pedophilia. Age play has nothing to do with actual biological children. It’s about adults playing with the concept of age as it relates to themselves. Legal adults pretending to be kids. And legal adults interacting with other legal adults who are pretending to be kids.

Any sexual age play has no interaction with actual children.

The other major accusation leveled at age players is that they all suffer from dissociative identity disorder, or DID (which is still sometimes better known as multiple personality disorder, or MPD).

A few of the major case studies of DID/MPD patients include an ‘alter’ (one of the multiple personalities living in their head) that was a child. Largely because of this, a lot of the fiction involving DID/MPD also usually includes a child alter. So when you have an adult who exhibits a persona that insists it’s a little kid, some numbskull is obviously going to jump to the conclusion that it’s a mental illness. And a specific mental illness that they saw an episode about in a lawyer or doctor show, at that.

So: The vast majority of age players are NOT pedophiles and are NOT afflicted with DID/MPD. Got it? Good. We continue . . .


Age players are role players. The roles they play are either younger than they are, or people with authority over young people (parents, teachers, etc.). On one level, it’s no different than when a bored and horny couple decide to play pirate and wench, or warden and prisoner.

Sometimes it’s just very casual play. “Hey, honey? Do you want to be little kids tonight? We can play ‘doctor’.” And then the next time that role play comes up, it’s something else.

A lot of the non-casual age play isn’t so much your garden variety role play as much as it is something that I’ve started to call persona play (a concept which, yes, will indeed get it’s own post at some point in the future). You’re not just taking on a role, but you’re actually adopting a (or an additional) persona. It’s more than just a role. It’s based in part on your personality, feelings, wants, and desires. It’s consistent unto itself, and a character that you can step into when you want to. Step back out of when playtime is over.

The Roles

There are two basic roles in age play. Children and adults. (Although I rarely ever seen them referred to that way. It’s more likely to see terms like littles and bigs. Or kidz and adultz. Inner-child or inner-kid is one I’ve seen used quite a bit. I’m assuming it’s the whole distancing the play from accusations of pedophilia that ‘requires’ the use of terms other than ‘children’ and ‘adults’.)

While lurking on some of the FetLife age play groups for research purposes, I’ve seen a variety of different theories about how many categories of ages there are for age player. Everything from three (baby, kid, and teen) up to much longer lists divided by combinations of age, progression through schooling, and other variables. Of course, I’ve also seen the point of view represented that things like this shouldn’t be separated into categories at all. Sometimes these theories are part of a discussion, sometimes part of an argument.

But in Lee Harrington’s “The Toybag Guide to Ageplay”, he initially breaks it down into six basic age categories, and I’m going to be using that structure (as much as I’ll be using any structure) for this series of posts.

These ‘ages’ (which I’ll discuss in more detail shortly) are pre-verbal, toddler, school kid, teenager, post-teen/young adult, and adult.

Play Styles

There are different styles of age play, the full realization of which gives me BDSMI flashbacks.

Sometimes regression ageplay is there to bring out a person’s healthy inner child to play. Other times regression ageplay therapy is there to deal with an actual dissociative child personalitiy (in which case, there is some DID/MPD going on, but I wouldn’t classify those cases as being people who choose to do the sort of age play that I’m talking about here).

Some age players just like the thought of reliving their youth, and keep that play separate from their sexuality.

Then there are those that like the naughty sexual stuff. Starting with encounters between littles and bigs. Spicing up your sex life by acting out a student/teacher fantasy is a form of age play. Horny middle-aged dad and the hot teen baby-sitter is another. (The teen/early adult babysitter and little boy with a crush is another dirty little age play fantasy.)

Sometimes sexual age play hinges on incest fantasies. (It certainly has in almost all of what little age play erotica I’ve read.) Two adults playing out a ‘daddy/daughter’ relationship sexually. Or ‘mommy/son’. Aunts, uncles, grandparents, etc. All fair game for fantasy scenarios.

Little kids trying to act ‘all grown up’. And what’s more grown up than an activity than carries an ‘Adults Only’ label on it?

And while I’m told that it’s far less common (which really surprises me, as I kind of figured it would be at least as prevalent as little/big sex, if not more), you also have littles having sexual encounters with littles.

Recreating early efforts of playing doctor and other ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours’ games . . . and carrying them further than just showing. ‘I’ll let you touch mine if you let me touch yours’ becomes ‘I’ll suck yours if you lick mine’ becomes ‘do you wanna fuck me’?

Teen-based littles experimenting with their newfound sexuality . . . being very quiet in your girlfriend’s bedroom and touching her breasts for the first time. Carefully sliding a finger inside her. Or fumbling around in the backseat of a parked car. Taking a hard cock in your mouth and sucking on it, just like you’ve heard about the older girls doing. Or very, very nervously going all the way for the first time.

Age Play Motives

After looking at the various play styles, the next question is play motives. Not how do you play, but why? What’s in it for you.

Vacationing in Youth

There are a lot of people who were never as happy as when they were a child (which is a good enough reason for age play right there). Being young and playing with their friends was the most fun they’ve ever had.

(There are also people who, as adults, never have more fun then when they’re having sex. The overlap between these groups explains another motive for little/little sex. Getting the best of both worlds by regressing to childhood and having that wonderful sex with your ‘little’ friends while there.)

Toys, playgrounds, running around outside, other little kids/littles to play with, and so on and so on.

RetCon Play

Of course, for some people it wasn’t so much toys, playgrounds, the outdoors, friends and so on as it was poverty, alcoholic parents, abusive parents, sexually abusive step-parents, foster homes, and suicidal ideation.

For these people, age play isn’t so much a means of reliving their youth as it is an opportunity to rewrite it into something better. Happier. More pleasant. Less nightmarish, at the very least.

Sometimes – if the proper resources and relationships are available to them – a person who’s had a traumatic childhood will relive various childhood experiences under the protection of a guardian of their own choosing (one who oftentimes becomes their ‘mommy’ or ‘daddy’ – or ‘auntie’, ‘uncle’, and so on)

This relationship is known as reparenting, and runs anywhere from an occasional thing to a 24/7 style parent/child association. The little will often dress exclusively in children’s style clothes, play with toys, do chores, and have a set bedtime. It sometimes becomes a permanent lifestyle at a static age. Other times it is a project that ‘ages’ their little back up toward adulthood, with their age-played ‘childhood’ becoming their new, non-traumatic pleasant background.

Second Chances

Much like Jim Kirk (ooh – geeky Star Trek II reference!) I was never a boy scout. I wanted to be a boy scout, but there wasn’t a scout troop in my area growing up. One time Dad and I went to Goodwill, and I found a Boy Scout handbook. I asked him to buy it for me, and he told me, “No. That’s for boy scouts. You’re not a boy scout, so you can’t have that.”

(Fifteen years or so later, my brother and sister both wanted to get into scouting. There were still no scout troops in our area. So Mom and Dad contacted the Cub Scouts and Girl Scouts organizations, found out what was needed . . . and then started their own troops. Hmm. Thanks a lot, Mom and Dad.)

Truth be told, as much as I wanted to be a scout back then – and as much as I still want to have been a scout back then, if for no other reason than that I’d know how to tie knots now – it’s not really something that I’d want to try and get in on as an aspect of age play now. But it does make a good example of the kind of thing that you miss out on for one reason or another in your childhood that really pisses you off. The kind of thing that age play can let you play around with now.

Born at the Wrong Time

The VCR became a success when I was in the sixth grade or thereabouts. It wasn’t long after that that I got my first computer, which was a Commodore 64. I also had a small portable cassette deck – and it and my record player are how I listened to music. I had friends who had the Atari home video game system, and I was incredibly jealous of that. I remember when we got our first answering machine. Our first microwave oven.

Al Gore hadn’t gotten around to inventing the internet yet. There was no such thing as voice mail. Or CDs. Or DVDs. Or celphones. Or the Wii. (There wasn’t even the bare bones Nintendo NES back then.)

Kids today have all the best toys. Which means that littles today have the opportunity to have toys that they’d never dreamed of having when they were actual biological children.

(Plus, on the age play as a sexual activity front, kids seem to be experimenting with sex at younger and younger ages, according to all the alarmist studies that make headlines on slow news days.)

Teen Sex (Without Guilt or the Philosophy of ‘Saving Yourself’)

Growing up, I was a good Catholic boy. I couldn’t have teenage sex, because if I did, God would do bad things to me, or something. (Plus, I spent my teen years emotionally hung up on first Rabbit (not her real name) and then Penny (not her real name, either.)

If I didn’t have the unrequited love or the Catholic guilt stuff working for me, I’m pretty sure that I could have gotten laid. I think that if I had actively pursued Rocket Girl (not her real name), it would have gotten me some action. (The same story with the Evil Spider (not her real name), but sex with her would have caused way too much drama, and lost me several friends.) There was a possibility of a one-night stand kinda thing with Crackers (not her real name), whom I only knew for the space of a week. And I’m pretty sure that I could have had Little Anathema (not her real name) if I’d’ve wanted. There were a few girls who were clearly interested in me. Including one actual woman who didn’t realize I wasn’t a legal adult yet.

If I knew then what I know now, I would have most likely made an effort to get into the pants of each and every one of those people (except the Evil Spider).

I can fully understand the desire to play a teenager. Experimenting with your sexuality. Without guilt. Without the notion of saving yourself for marriage. And with adequate protection.

“I’ve Outgrown Nothing, Do You Hear Me? Nothing!”

When I was a kid, I read comics and I played with action figures. I watched cartoons. I colored in coloring books. And the number of stuffed animals I owned? Yikes!

I don’t really ever lay on the floor playing with my toys like I did when I was a child, but none of the action figures I’ve bought in the last ten years are still mint-in-package. And they can be found in strange poses all over the place (sometimes with word balloons thumb-tacked to the wall above their heads).

I still read comics. I still watch animation. I don’t color very often, but every couple of years, I’ll pick up a coloring book, or be given one for Christmas. (And the number of stuffed animals I own? Yikes!)

There’s all this stuff that you are supposed to ‘outgrow’ at a certain point. Some of which you do automatically. Some of which you choose to, often regretfully. Some of which you pretend to. Some of which you don’t . . . and don’t openly.

Age play can serve as an excuse to dabble in these lost hobbies and practices. Coloring, for example, seems to be an almost universal age play activity. I’d imagine that immersion in 12-year old culture is very appealing to geeks and fanboys with the age play interest. Comics, action figures, etc.

How Old Are You?

The youngest level of age play is pre-verbal. (Both this category and the next one fall under the umbrella categories of ‘Adult Babies’ or ‘Diaper Lovers’ or AB/DL, a desire that is officially labeled ‘infantilism’ by the paraphilia people.) Pre-verbal are young babies. These age players seek out guardians that will take care of them completely. Bottle feeding, diaper changing, etc. They don’t speak in language (although they’ll cry and make the kind of nonsense noises that some babies make). They don’t walk.

The next level, and other half of the AB/DL group, is the toddlers. They alternately speak in either baby talk or a limited vocabulary language, and can walk awkwardly around. They are still in diapers, and take both bottle and some solid foods. They still require more supervision than any of the age play categories above them.

Next you’ve got school kids. Anything from kindergarten on up through about the fifth or sixth grade.

Then come the teenagers. Twelve or thirteen years old through seventeen or eighteen.

The post-teen/young adult category is the nebulous buffer zone between being a teenager and being an adult. That time when you’re old enough to vote and die for your country, but not old enough to legally drink. The college era, before you set out to start your career and your own life.

And then there’s adulthood. This is a great big whopping category that’s probably filled to the brim with subcategories all it’s own. People involved in age play who take on the roles of the caretakers fit here. The mommies and daddies. Teachers, and other non-relative authority figures. But the biologically fifty year old men who play the role of the 25 year old – they’re still playing adults, just younger. Or going the other way, the person in their 20s taking on the grandparent role.

Anyway, that’s it for the moment. More tomorrow.

Part Two

Friday, February 13, 2009

L.O.V.E. Fantasies

Well, it’s happening again. Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day (or, as it’s also known, the 45th day of the year that I spend sitting at home alone and wishing that I had a girlfriend).

Hearts, flowers, Cupid’s bow and arrows, the box of chocolates, Valentine’s cards, candlelit dinner, bottle of champagne, tokens of love, holding hands and gazing into one another’s eyes, moonlit walks, etc. Romance. Love.

I want that. I want all that. I’ve got a healthy romantic streak running through me. Romantic, poetic, chivalrous, and dedicated. It’s there. It’s just gotten kind of . . . buried.

Bad luck with women. No luck with sex. My health problems haven’t helped matters any. Nor has the social or financial fallout of twenty (plus) years of being chronically ill and practically a shut-in.

I do want love. Requited love. I want a woman to share my life with. I want a woman in my life who makes things like Valentine’s Day actually mean something, instead of being just another day. Or a day to make fun of, using comedy to mask my pain.

But that’s not what you came here to read about. ‘Time Delay’ isn’t a mushy, syrupy, pining-for-love blog. It’s a kinky sex blog. So . . . yes, I want love. But I also want to fuck. Oral, anal, vaginal . . . fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Groping firm tits and pumping my cock in and out of every tight hole she’s— What? Too far, too soon, after ‘hearts and flowers’? Yeah, okay. Probably true.

Anyway, I was just trying to illustrate that today’s blog post isn’t going to be about my love fantasies. Today’s blog post is going to be about my L.O.V.E. fantasies.

L.O.V.E. Fantasies?

Yes, I want love, but the older I get, the more that my obsessive-compulsive brain decides to focus on sex. “Gotta get you some,” says the OCD-addled brain. “Gotta get laid. Gotta lose that ridiculous virginity you insist on hauling around with you everywhere you go.”

It doesn’t seem to matter what I want emotionally. What I want for the long run. There’s just this compulsion to lose my virginity. It’s gotten to where having sex isn’t really even the goal any more. Just the need to have had it that first time. To be able to say, “Yes, I’m sexually active.” I need somebody to pull my ‘intercourse tab’ and start me up.

So when I was trying to figure out whether or not to do something with a ‘love’ theme for the post before Valentine’s Day, it occurred to me that since L.O.V.E. is spelled (more or less) the same way, I could probably get away with that instead.

(Yes, it’s what you’ve all been expecting and fearing. Today’s wordplay come to you in acronym form.)

L.O.V.E.: Loss-Of-Virginity Encounter. The L.O.V.E. fantasy is simply me musing about getting my metaphorical cherry popped.

Questions About Type

“What’s my type?”. Who (not as in a specific person, but as in a general ‘type’ of woman) do I want? That’s a difficult question to answer.

I could give you a whole raft of ideal physical specifications. Hair color (red tops the list, but really anything other than blonde is ideal), breast size (small to medium, unless she’s a BBW, in which case we go proportionately larger), and so on. But in all honesty, I’m more attracted to personality, intelligence, commonality of interest, and so on.

But that’s what I want in a woman that I want a relationship with. A girlfriend, a play partner, a friend-with-benefits, etc. Which is a different criteria than the minimum requirements for what I want in a woman I’m interested in for L.O.V.E.

So, when it comes to the one-time act of losing my virginity . . . what’s my type?

Consenting adult human female. (Okay, so, it’s probably a little more specific than that. But at this point, not a whole Hell of a lot.) Right now, if a woman were to come up to me and express an interest in taking my virginity, there are very few things that would cause me to turn her down.

Disease would be one. Even with protection, my completely fucked-up immune system would keep me from accepting the offer of, “I’d like to have sex with you – and, oh, by the way, I’ve got [fill in the name of an STD here]”

And I’d like to think that I’d still decline the invitation if she were a white supremacist, or a devil worshipper, or something equally on my social no-no list.

There are other factors that might prevent me from having sex with a woman, but that wouldn’t stop me from giving it my best effort. Size, for example. I like BBWs. But I’ve learned the hard way that Big Fat Man + Tiny Little Penis + BBW = Abstinence. I’d love to have sex with a BBW, but the extra layer(s) of flesh tend to keep our interlocking parts just far enough away from each other so that they don’t actually interlock.

The Least Unlikely Opportunities

There aren’t really a lot of times or places in my current life that would be realistically conducive to this sort of thing. There aren’t many women in my life, and the majority of the ones that are happen to be related to me by either blood or marriage.

So I try and find the places where it’s most likely that I might end up getting laid. And when it occurs to me that I’m not really ‘likely’ to have sex regardless of what I do, then I start looking for the occasions and locations that are the least unlikely.


When I first started investigating BDSM, and trying to break into the local community, my reasons were doing so were always capped off with, “. . . plus, maybe I’ll finally lose my virginity.”

I spent most of last year’s KinkFest obsessed with the concept of finding someone interested in having sex with me before discovering that most of the people there were the type that kept their BDSM and their sex separate. Chocolate bar still in wrapper, peanut butter jar shut tight . . . no tasty Reese’s for anyone.

(I’ll be trying to focus on the Bondage and Discipline, Dominance and Submission, and Sadism and Masochism at this year’s KinkFest, and try to ignore the absent Masturbation and Intercourse.)

The Darklady Parties

One of the places that seem as likely as any are the ‘sex-positive’ parties thrown by Darklady. So, I spend a fair amount of time fantasizing about losing my virginity at the next Darklady party. (‘The next’ being a rolling description. I’ve fantasized about having sex at both the Halloween and New Year’s Parties. It didn’t happen either time, so now I’m fantasizing about getting some action at the next DL event I attend.)

I was actually planning on attending festivities thrown by the Dark One tonight, but that fell through when my pal Zorch called to reverse his offer to play chauffer and get me to Portland and back. (His job interfered, and he suddenly no longer had the night off.)

Which really sucks, because I was seriously looking forward to this little event. “Darklady’s Don’t Be Afraid of Valentine’s Day Quickie Dating”. This is her first experiment with bringing the popular ‘speed dating’ concept to the local sex-positive community. And the inherent structure in her quickie dating set-up includes a forced socialization that would keep me from wallflowering my way through the first half of the event until I built up enough courage to start talking to people.

(I talk a good game sitting behind the keyboard. And I used to talk a good game back in the late 80s/early 90s. But I’m not used to actual social interaction anymore. All my face-to-face conversational skills have atrophied. Plus I’m ugly and stupid and nobody likes me and – whoa! Take a breath there, Zeitgeist. Your self-esteem is running amok again. Reel it back in.)

Anyway, her next party is in late May, and is her umpteenth (8th?) annual Masturbate-a-Thon party. I don’t know if intercourse will be encouraged at that one or not, being a celebration of masturbation and all. But I plan to be there, regardless. (Assuming I can find a ride.)

The Johnny Dirtnap Method

I’ve started contemplating seeking professional help. By which I of course mean hiring a prostitute.

And I’ve noticed that recently the concept has somehow entered my brain’s fantasy rotation. When I stop to think about it, the fact that I’m actually considering trying to save up money so that I can lose my virginity to a prostitute fills me with self-loathing. [Which has nothing to do with any bias against either prostitutes or those who engage their services – I’m sure that it’s just unresolved issues I’ve got with the whole
Johnny Dirtnap situation, and his plans to get me laid via sex-for-cash.]

Other Fantasies

I do have some very specific L.O.V.E. fantasies. Things I’d like to do, ways I’d like to do them. Scenarios. Role-play set-ups. All kinds of things.

I’ve got age-play fantasies that are conducive to L.O.V.E. (Everything from the classic I’ll-show-you-mine-if-you-show-me-yours to the traditional teenage first sex encounter play.)

I wouldn’t mind losing my virginity to a humiliation girl. (Not THE Humiliation Girl, just a humiliation girl. Although, if my original HG could be found . . . ) Someone aroused by being ‘forced’ into sex with a 450 lb behemoth like myself. Someone who would get off on having me do the nastiest things to her.

The classic male fantasy of the threesome. I’ve got several variants of this one that would be perfect for a loss of virginity encounter. But primary among them being me, a nice, thin, fuckable girl, and a sexy, lusty BBW to play with besides.

Of course, being at least a little bi-curious, I’ve also got the other threesome fantasy. Finally have sex with a woman, and also satisfy some of my curiosities with a little experimentation.

I even fantasize about one of the women from my past coming back into my life for a one-night stand. Sue. The long lost Rabbit. Penny. Dot (God help me). CJ.

And then there’s that romantic streak. I could lose my virginity this way, I wouldn’t mind losing it that way, blah, blah, blah. But what I want – what I really WANT – is a lover. In all senses of the word.

As much as I just want to crawl on top of someone and fuck them, deep down, I really do want to lose my virginity by making love. Sink my cock into someone for whom my cock is in synch with my heart.

Oh, crap – bad poetry is starting to happen. Okay, time to sign off.

Enjoy St. V’s day.