Romance is apparently my current kink
Who would have thought?
No one is more surprised than I am that in this particular moment of my life, the thing that gets me off the most is making sweet romantic love to my devoted, strong, protective boyfriend.
Given my life, my work, and my general erotic résumé, you might think the thing I crave most would be more elaborate. Taboo. Theatrical even. And listen, my Daddy/girl fantasy is still alive and well. That one has tenure. It is still the thing I reach for when I want to get off quickly due to it being so reliable and effective.
But when I want something deeper…when I want a truly satisfying, full-bodied, emotionally nourishing orgasmic experience, what I want most is him. My boyfriend Nick. The man I love. That beautiful romantic bubble we create together. He touches me like there is nowhere else he would rather be. He kisses me like he can’t get enough. His strength makes me feel protected. His attunement gives my body permission to actually let go.
I have some shame around how much this does it for me because it feels boring. Vanilla. Basic. A little embarrassing, honestly. When he asks me what fantasy or desire I want to explore, this is the most truthful and authentic answer. After all this exploration and education and professional devotion to the vast complexity of human sexuality, my body has apparently decided that its current favorite fantasy is “loving boyfriend makes me feel safe and adored.”
Rude, honestly.
He’s willing to go to the most unhinged and adventurous places imaginable when we fantasize together. Multiple cocks at once? Public play? Fluids? Kink? Toys? Drugs? Aliens? Anything I could possibly conceive of to request, he’s game.
But the body wants what it wants. And right now, my body wants devotion. I love the eroticism of being chosen consistently. I crave kind of sex that starts before anyone is naked because the safety is already there. I’m driven wild by warmth, presence, familiarity, emotional depth, and the particular kind of surrender that becomes accessible when I am not bracing for impact.
That does not mean I have stopped enjoying other fantasies. I still love diving into erotic rabbit holes with him, exploring power, stretching the bounds of our imaginations, and the delicious psychological charge of a well-worn fantasy. But when I ask myself what I really crave, what I dream about, what feels most satisfying in the deepest part of me, the answer right now is almost annoyingly simple.
It is him.
Waking up next to him. Kissing him before I fall asleep. Feeling his hand on me and knowing I do not have to perform to be wanted. The ordinary intimacy of being loved in real life, by a real person, in a real relationship that includes tenderness, annoyance, laughter, repair, desire, and showing up again. Right now, my soft places want him.
And maybe that is part of why it feels so vulnerable. Fantasy can be easier to control. Real love asks to touch the places that are less curated. It brings up all the tender, inconvenient stuff: longing, fear, trust, need, and the fervent hope that maybe this time it really is safe to open.
So yes, apparently romance is my current kink. Making love to my boyfriend is the thing that gets me there the deepest. I reserve the right to become a completely different erotic creature next month, because bodies are weird and desire is a moving target. But for now, this is the truth.
My fantasy is him.
In case you missed it, my last piece was about the CNN “rape academy” article and my thoughts on that and the social media backlash as both a survivor and a trauma-trained professional. I didn’t send it out via email because I wanted people to be able to opt-in to reading it rather than having it shoved into their inboxes, but here it is if you have the bandwidth to check it out: