One of the strange attractions of maintaining a sexualised existence, one can’t really call it a life, is the risk of being caught out by one of my lovers and/or my married partner (and I have had two wives).
At one point in the 1990s I had four sexual relationships going at the same time. Two in the Midlands where I worked in a leading university, one in Oxford and the legitimate one with my wife in Derbyshire.
In order to maintain them all it was necessary to lie to all four partners! This was made easier by the fact that I was away from home most weeks because my wife and I lived in Derbyshire where she worked at a school and I rented an apartment near to my Midlands university. Also the two university employees I was sleeping with worked in separate departments and neither of them in my department. Finally, a former London partner now lived in Oxford which was only 30 miles away!
However, in order to maintain these relationships I had to devote a great deal of energy into keeping my diary arranged in such a way that none of them ever saw me with another of my partners and that I always had a reason why I could be with them on certain nights.
To manage this I kept a diary which looked more like an MI6 kill list, or a police board after a murder had been committed with lines of string connecting photographs of the victims and possible suspects.
I also had two primitive mobile phones, one for my home life and the other for my three away from home relationships! Keeping hold of which phone I was answering and who was calling me was a nightmare at times.
But strangely these stresses were cancelled out by the frisson of danger that went with maintaining each relationship separately! I could even get a hard on as I was having a meal out with one of my illicit partners at the thought of bumping into another.
The closest I came was taking my Oxford based partner back to a midland rail station and seeing one of the university partners leaving in her car!
There is no doubt that the possibility of getting caught added to the sense of stolen passion I felt at the time! It was a kind of out of body sensation in which I wasn’t really there and someone else was playing me. Two of the women were submissives which made keeping them apart fairly easy, but the Oxford partner was dominant and also in considerable distress from a guy from London who was stalking her. So most of my spare energies went into attending to her issues.
She was the love of my life from 1980s London. A bisexual and dominant woman who I had had a ten year bedroom bondage Sub to Dom relationship, which ended in 1988, when she left me for a woman lawyer. I met my wife to be a few months later and we married in 1991 moving from London to Derbyshire in 1993 where I had a job at a Nottingham university and she at a Sheffield school. Later I moved to the leading university in the Midlands.
But in 1996 my world came crashing down because my Oxford partner committed suicide through depression. Now the dangers of discovery multiplied. I made a mistake with an email to a university colleague from home about the death of my Oxford lover and my wife found out what had been happening.
Some would call it poetic justice, and I would largely agree. I killed off my two university relationships and became monogamous for a while. My wife put me on probation and, since I still loved her, and still do, I became the faithful husband for as long as I possibly could, at least in the UK.
But at academic conferences in Europe and the US I was no more faithful than before. Still driven on my my reckless libido and the frisson of danger on which I was hooked.
This penchant for danger also extended into my working life! In my long sub retationship in London, part of my Dom’s needs and demands included dressing me in stockings and suspenders and other lingerie for bondage sessions and BDSM parties. At first it was part of her humiliation training, but I got to enjoy it as much as her.
She was deeply aroused at dressing and tying me in lingerie. As she used to say “David, I get the best of both worlds from you as a bisexual woman, beautiful female legs in stockings and suspenders and a real penis and male torso.”
After she died I was very angry with everything and almost everyone, including my university and especially it’s managerial elites. So I took to wearing silk panties under my trousers to important meetings, where the silk and the danger of being discovered gave me huge hard ons under the table.
On one occasion I wore a latex suspender belt and latex stockings under my trousers, along with the silk panties, which meant I had to walk and sit very carefully to prevent a rustling sound from latex rubbing against latex. But that was a one off as I felt more vulnerable than aroused.
But the real point is that the dangers and difficulties of maintaining my sexualised existence actually added to the attraction! I was hooked on the adrenaline rush of the very real fear of being found out, as much as on the testosterone one of having illigitimate multi-partner sex.