For someone who runs a blog about kink and sexuality and how these things meld together, I have a confession that many might find surprising: I have never actually had sex.

The whole thing makes me think about what happened in the second season of Ink Master.  In that season, one of the contestants was a very accomplished tattoo artist, but he had no tattoos on his own skin, unlike everyone else on the show.  The judges made a big stink about the guy’s not having any tattoos, but I felt that the criticism was unfair because it was ultimately his own choice about what he wanted to do with his own body, and he should not feel obligated to do something with his body that he didn’t necessarily want to just because he was “supposed to” have tattoos as a tattoo artist.  The same thing applies here.  I feel that one can be a voice discussing kink, sexuality, and the like and still never have had sex.  After all, it’s my body, and therefore it’s my choice.

I had considered discussing this topic for a number of years, and had gone back and forth on whether I really wanted to discuss this topic, being concerned that revealing this would harm my credibility when talking about BDSM and the like.  After all, one would think that a prerequisite to discussing sexuality and exploring one’s sexuality would be to have experienced having sex at some point in one’s life.  But I have never experienced sexual intercourse before, though I certainly have had sexual gratification before, both by myself and with other people.  I finally decided to write about it because I suspect that I am not alone.  I am most likely not the only one who is kinky as fuck, and yet has never “done the deed” with someone.  I hope, by discussing it, that it helps others who are in similar situations and who may be questioning things themselves.

I believe that I can attribute the lack of sex to a few different factors.  First of all, I have only ever been in two romantic relationships: one that lasted for three weeks when I was 17 and a senior in high school, and my current relationship, which I’ve been in for almost seven years as of this writing.  The first relationship, I was too nervous to even consider sex.  I was so uptight that we didn’t even kiss, so we could just forget about actually geting naked.  She had casually mentioned at some point about wanting to tie me up, but that was about the extent of it.  She ultimately ended up dumping me, and I suppose that was just as well, because looking back, I clearly wasn’t ready for a relationship, what with my being that uptight about things.

After that relationship was over, I didn’t have another one for about 17 years, and a lot of that was because I was too nervous to ask anyone out, and I found dating sites to be quite intimidating.  Those dating sites felt like I was looking for a job, but instead of making me money, it would probably cost me a lot of money in going out on dates – money that I didn’t really have to spare at that time.  I ended up sending out a lot of what felt like applications to date people, and got met with a lot of silence, and the occasional “Good luck in finding a relationship!” response (I would have preferred silence over such a thinly-veiled “fuck you”).  I never did get any actual bites, so at least my wallet didn’t suffer for it.  I eventually determined that the whole exercise in dating sites was a complete waste of time, and that my time would be better spent doing other things.  I decided that the best path going forward was to just not worry about it, and that whatever happened would happen.  In other words, dating and sex weren’t going to be a priority.  I now know that there were other factors in play that I didn’t realize at the time, which came into more focus after I was diagnosed with autism last year.  Learning that I am autistic answered a lot of questions and made a lot of things fall into place, and I feel like I’m a better person for it.

In my current long-term relationship, we’re much more comfortable with showing affection to each other than I was in that very short relationship back in the nineties.  We kiss, we feel up various body parts on each other, we tie each other up, and all in all, we have a good time.  Sexual gratification in various forms has always been a thing, but actual sexual intercourse has never factored into it.

I think that a big thing that has driven our lack of sex is that neither one of us wants to ever have children, and are vehement about that point.  Other people can do whatever they want, but we are child-free by choice, and staying that way.  I’ve considered getting a vasectomy in order to nip any possibility of children in the bud, and the idea has been that until then, abstinence is a foolproof way to ensure that no little surprises occur.  I intended to get that vasectomy done a few years ago, but then the pandemic happened and the idea got shelved, as other matters took priority.  Just using a condom is not good enough for me, since there’s still about a 1 in 50 chance that something could get created.  And I know me: it would have me worrying for weeks after sex about whether we had created a life that we didn’t intend to create, even with a condom.  So a vasectomy is really the only viable option there, since that stops the little swimmers permanently.  STDs, meanwhile, I’m not worried about because neither one of us has ever had sex before, and therefore we know that we’re clean in that regard.

Each of us also has a few “yuck” factors when it comes to sexual activity.  She doesn’t like semen in any way, shape, or form.  She finds it gross, and doesn’t want it touching her, anywhere.  I remember how grossed out she was early in our relationship after a fun little session where we played with rope, made out a bit, and then she watched me masturbate to completion.  The spooge came out a bit more forcefully than I had anticipated, and a few drops of it got on her face (we were lying next to each other facing the same direction, if that tells you how far my penis shot it), along with a couple of other places that I didn’t intend for it to land.  I felt badly about it, because it was not my intent or desire to get any on her, since we had not discussed that beforehand.  Then I have a bit of a “yuck” factor of my own when it comes to touching certain areas of the body with my bare hands.  If I’m touching anywhere that could be considered “nether regions” on anyone’s body other than my own, I will typically put gloves on.  When I play with a male friend of mine, if I touch his penis, it’s going to be with a gloved hand.  Same with my partner.  While I’ve fondled her in the nether regions through clothing plenty of times, I’ve only ever played with her in the nether regions not through clothing once, and I was wearing gloves for that.  Without gloves, I will typically stay well clear of the pubic region.  If I feel pubic hair, I back off immediately, because no.  Gloves make me feel a lot bolder because I’m not actually touching what I’m touching, nor am I getting my hands dirty.  I have a big thing about keeping clean, and having gunk on me drives me nuts.  As it is, after masturbating, I will immediately hop in the shower and fully clean myself up.  Likewise, performing any sort of oral stimulation on her down there is a hard limit for me because of similar “yuck” factors.  I’ll put my mouth on other body parts like breasts, but generally speaking, as far as my tongue is concerned, I’m staying above the waist.

Then there are my own insecurities about it all.  I’m worried about my ability to perform.  I’m worried that I might not be able to keep up.  I’m worried about not being able to finish.  The last thing that I would want would be to be in the midst of sex, no one has gotten off yet, and then realize that I’m completely exhausted and can’t continue, and then end up laying in the bed, crying because I failed.  Of course, that assumes that I can even bring myself to start at all.  I’m really concerned that we’ll have planned a time to have sex, everyone’s naked on the bed and ready to go, and I end up so nervous and uptight and scared because of the various mental hangups that I’ve been having over it that I can’t bring myself to actually start, like the child who is too afraid to go off of the high dive.  In other words, get up on the board, look down, realize that there is no way in hell that this is happening, and then back away.  And I feel like if that occurred, it would also end up with my lying on the bed in tears, again feeling like a failure.  Both of those potential results scare me, and these little insecurities are really distressing.  In a way, it was easier when I was single with no relationship prospects, because I didn’t have to worry about any of this.  After all, if there’s no one to do it with, it’s a moot point, because I’m not getting laid even if I wanted to.  In that kind of situation, sex is more of an abstract concept.  It’s like, I’ve heard of it, and I know that it’s something that other people do, but it doesn’t apply to me specifically.

The reason that I bring all of this up is because my partner has indicated recently that she wants to have sex, and it’s forcing me to confront all of these insecurities that I would rather not deal with.  I would be perfectly content putting sex off indefinitely, and therefore leaving these insecurities as question marks rather than potentially finding out that I am really bad at it, or that sex is just awful.  I also feel like the first time should be special, and I don’t want to do it solely out of a sense of obligation in order to not disappoint her.  In that situation, she might appreciate it, but I wouldn’t, and it would make it into something unpleasant.  As it is, her mentioning that she wants to have sex makes me want to do it even less than when we didn’t worry about it, because the prospect of sex just terrifies me.  It makes sex feel more like a bucket list item, i.e. I did it, and now I’m done.  It feels wrong to think of sex as a bucket list item, and I’m afraid that it might turn into that if I try to do it before I’m ready.  And who knows when I’ll be ready, if ever.

If it tells you anything, I would be a lot more comfortable laying on the bed next to her and getting her off with a dildo rather than directly having sex.  In that case, I wouldn’t have to touch anything that would make me uncomfortable, because the dildo would be going in the places that make me all squeamish, my hands stay above the waist, I don’t have to worry about any performance issues, and she still gets off by my doing.  Likewise, one of my favorite experiences with sexual gratification was when she got one of those Tenga vacuum cups at an Asian store and then used it to get me off.  I enjoyed that thoroughly.  Considering that the lube was inside the Tenga cup, no one had to get their hands dirty.  Even better was that since the spooge afterward was contained in the Tenga cup, she wasn’t grossed out over that.  Cleanup was easy, too, since you just slide your dick out of the cup, put the lid on it, and then throw it away.  I enjoyed that we did it together, which puts it on a higher tier than masturbation, even if only one person was receiving sexual gratification from it (but she did enjoy participating).

Meanwhile, I don’t quite know how I want to categorize all that I’m feeling and going through.  I did a little bit of research on things, and I feel like aegosexuality and genophobia both check a lot of boxes to the point where it could reasonably be either one, or perhaps a combination of both.  For those not familiar, aegosexuality is a sexual orientation, considered a variation on asexuality.  Basically, it’s the idea that while someone has no desire to engage in sexual activity themselves, they still have fantasies and other sexual desires.  In other words, the sexuality is there, but there is always a level of separation between themselves and the sex.  I suppose that’s sort of why I would feel more comfortable pleasuring my partner with a dildo than actually having sex.  It maintains a certain level of separation between me and the sex via a device.  After all, the dildo is going where I am not willing to go, myself.  I also find it curious about what I prefer to consume as far as adult content goes. I don’t care at all for mainstream porn. I don’t need to watch a video of other people having sex in order to become aroused.  In fact, I find watching people have sex to be boring, as well as a bit tasteless, bordering on crude.  I will, however, get off to media related to people getting tied up, with no explicit sexual activity in the content.  If there’s any actual sex in a bondage video, I’m probably going to turn it off.  I don’t want to see someone get tied up and then fucked.  Just tie them up and let them wriggle around for a while, and I’m good.

But I do get the feeling that there is a fear of sex that’s factoring into things, considering all of what I’ve described above about why I am reluctant to engage in sex myself.  When I did some research, it definitely smells like a specific phobia.  When my partner told me that she wanted to have sex, it’s made me even more resistant to the idea of it, and it’s really started to occupy a lot of space in my head, as simple avoidance just became a lot harder.  I don’t want it occupying this much space in my head, but I can’t seem to shake it.

The prospect of potentially having sex really does terrify me, but it does make me wonder if any aegosexual tendencies that I may have are actually avoidance tactics from a phobia.  And that’s important, because one is a sexual orientation, and the other is a fear.  One can be overcome, and the other is a matter of how you’re “wired”.  It’s kind of like how a person who is LGBT isn’t that way by choice.  They were born that way, and nothing can be done to change that, and trying to change it is just going to mess the person up in a major way.  Fear, on the other hand, is something that can be worked through and overcome, and so it’s a bit of a conundrum.  If it’s fear, I kind of want to clear it up so that I know where I stand.  As things exist right now, I do find sexual intercourse to be a bit repulsive, but I don’t know if that’s a matter of how I’m wired, or if it’s just the fear and anxiety talking.  It also makes me wonder whether my delaying getting a vasectomy is an avoidance technique to cope with fear of having sex by building walls between myself and the activity in question, or if it’s just an innate lack of interest in ever having sex, meaning that a vasectomy is a moot point if I’m never going to do anything with it anyway.

And don’t get me wrong – it is nothing personal against my partner.  This is very person-agnostic, i.e. I would have the same hangups if it was that girl that I dated for three weeks in the nineties, or anyone else.  But it just kills me to have these sorts of hangups about sex, because I love her very much and want to make her happy, and I feel like I’m letting her down because of this.

No one said that understanding one’s sexuality was easy, and I think that this discussion bears that out.  Clearly, I have my work cut out for me, as I try to figure out how to make some sense out of all of this.