YVAN IN THE DARKROOM: Computer Encounters
from
Recon News
09 December 2019
Yvan, also known as member QueerYvan, is a historian of sexuality. In an ongoing series, he shares some of his favourite fetish encounters (in a whole lot of detail), as well as occasionally fill us in on the history of kink.
The world we live in is a hybrid world. Connections are not as simple as they once were. Although it is still possible to meet someone anonymously in a bar or a public toilet, suck their dick and leave with spunk drying in your beard, this is not the only way we live now. It is banal to say it, but our world is augmented by electronic devices. Cruising is not what it once was - and this, I think, is a good thing. We can still play those established games, such as go to a sex party and fuck anonymously, even one tailored to a specific kink, but euqually we can find our desired objects online. Grindr. Scruff. Hunqz, if you want to pay for something really specific. The best of them for the BDSM I seek is Recon.
On Recon, I can spend hours talking to hot men with similar filthy tastes to me. S'il veut, je peux écrire en français aussi et apprends les nouvelles phrases, comme leche mon cul. Here, someone can tell me that they want to clean out my arse with their tongue, whereas they might not be so bold in 'real life' (I say real life, but living with a phone in one hand and your dick in the other is just as real as meeting some stud in a cruising bar - just like handing me cash is just as real as wiring me 150€ to spend an hour with you.) Our realities have changed; you all know this, if you have ever met anyone off an app for anonymous sex. This does not replace real-life meetings in social spaces, it augments them. I met one of my current crushes at a queer bar in Marseille the other night, having already made clear what kind of kinks I like on an app. Now I am helping him set up a queer sex party at the end of Summer. Would he have spoken to me so warmly at the bar if he did not have a sense of who I am based on our previous - explicit - discussion? I doubt it.
It is not always easy to find someone with the same fetish as you. Even on the vanilla sex apps, where everyone is gay and no one is going to react badly to you hitting on them, it is not easy to propose something taboo to someone. Try it, if you don't believe me. Tell some vanilla-looking profile pic (or unsolicited dick pic) how you like to be beaten with a cane until the welts are purple and your eyes are wet with tears and you still jerk off afterwards, or that you like to wank guys off with tiger balm as lube to make them super-sensitive, and see how they respond. Their reactions can be offensive - even if it was they asked "Wot u into?". I know this from experience. It's boring to have to pretend to be something I am not just to find a vanilla fuck, so I don't.
Thank fuck for Recon, where all the perverts of the world can share their personal erotic visions with a sense of relative safety and acceptance. At least, that is my experience so far. I met my best sub on here - he was so good, he memorised and recited a difficult Dylan Thomas in his wonderful Welsh accent, and still I beat him 56 times with a cane for his birthday, before putting my cock on his shoulder and getting him to suck me off. I've met a bunch of other men, too. All sorts, cis and trans, tops and bottoms, old and young, hot and not (although they become hot when I know what is going on inside their head). I meet the people online that I do not meet in clubs because I am dancing instead, or if I get off the dance floor, I find the people I hardly talk to because we fuck as soon as we make contact. But for seeking BDSM hook-ups, where consent and communication is paramount to play safely and with trust, Recon has made things possible for me that otherwise would never have materialised. I am grateful.
* * *
I am at my computer, and a guy sends me a message.
--What are you into? he asks, after some comment on my profile. Better than just another average dick pic, I guess.
--Lots. Feet. Piss. CBT. Orgasm denial. Fisting. Toys. Hard corporal. Unusual stuff. I'm a top, usually, I say. But at home, I'm a hardn masochist.
It's a short list, but you know how it is. He now knows that I know what it feels like to get beaten - it instills confidence, I think.
When he asks what I mean by corporal, I tell him I like to use canes I cut myself and floggers that I make myself out of old bicycle tyre tubes. Kink doesn't need to be commodified, and besides, my rubber floggers are beautiful creations, more personal than shopping online. He wants to see pics, so I send him some of me - in leather chaps, nude, caning someone's arse, fisting someone, covered in welts from the sadist I live with. He seems impressed, and tells me more about his desires.
After a few messages, we start to get inside each others' erotic minds. He does not know my name, but I have told him how it feels to stretch someone's arse around my wrist before I fuck them, just because I love to fuck a gaping arsehole with its soft folds, to hear his soft moans after the intensity of opening him up so he can now just enjoy everything, the sounds of lube dripping out of his hole onto the floor. I am expansive. I like details. When I am turned on, I write better. I write specifically for him. I write to make him want to give me exactly what I want. This doesn't happen when I meet someone in the bushes in the dark in a park. There, I just get a blowjob and walk off. Here, I am telling him exactly what I want. Isn't the sex I have after blowing his mind going to be better than if I just blew his dick, after all? It is for me.
And I love telling him to tell me what he wants. Exactly what he wants. Not a word, a description. I want him to explain what he needs, the precise level of intensity he is looking for. The better I know him, the better I can fuck him up. The better he can trust me because I know what it is he seeks. I know that new things can be explored in person, but this detailing of desire, mine and his, with photos and filth to keep me excited before the meeting, makes it all the more real: because he is telling me how far he wants me to go, directly and explicitly, I know I can be less timid. I am all about consent and communication. It's hot. The more I know, the better it is, for BDSM, anyway.
He sends me pics of himself. In one, he is in a sling with a man's arm in his hole. In one, he has two dicks, one black and one circumcised and brown, in his gaping mouth. In one, he is dripping wet and swallowing some liquid. There is one in which a thick steel chain had been pushed into his arse, I have no idea how far but the illusion of eternity gives me a hard on. In another, which I find more interesting, he is suspended, half-naked, by his wrists from a tree outside in a forest. He has been beaten hard. The skin on his chest and his back is red from the flogger that he tells me he was used by his top. The next photo was a continuation in the scene. He had been whipped with a single tail, and had red marks across his back and torso. I was getting excited.
--What happened next? I asked.
I have my cock in my hand, because I had already wanted to fuck this sexy creature, and now I am finding out that he likes to play like I do.
He sends another photo. The camera has moved. It is a closer frame now, and now I can see how the pink marks from the whip stand out against the green of the Spring leaves. The person beating him was the person taking the photos, so I have to imagine how his suffering unfolded, each new picture a break in what was clearly an intense, long scene. Clearly sometimes the photos in this series were used as humiliation. Close-ups showed the rope tied into his mouth as a gag made him drool, and the snot ran freely with his tears as he had clearly been used hard. I could see he'd been spat on but couldn't wash it off, so the saliva dribbled down his eyebrow. In the next picture he was clean again, but wet. In the next his trousers were around his ankles, his balls were tied-up to lead weights which dangled heavily. The red string was a nice effect, I thought. I could imagine the drag every time he jolted from a hard lash. At one point, a stray whip mark had lashed across his cock, and the welt was photographed. His once white arse was deeply red with whip lashes, and with the thick heavy red marks of a stick that had been cut from the tree he was tied to. He told me the rest could be seen on video, and sent me a file.
The rest of the scene was porn to wank to - a hot older guy in jeans and boots fucking the hell out of his slave, suspended and broken in the woods, just a hole and a collar. After his dick was sucked to get hard, he bent his slave over and fucked him deeply. For amateur porn shot on a phone, it was hot. After the top came, he took the camera to inspect this trashed figure hanging by his wrists from a thick branch. The welts were sore, I could see. He told his slave to open his beaten arse, and filmed the spunk dripping out of him.
--What a filthy cunt this guy is, I thought to myself. I liked him. I wiped my spunk off my fingers and texted him to ask him to see me the next day.
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