by Dan Savage
Too many people believe that a vanilla type and a kinkster can never live happily ever after. Others are convinced that anonymous internet hookups always end in tears and positive HPV test results. Where do people get these false impressions? Reading columns like mine. Contented couples—twosomes who have successfully incorporated one partner’s kinks, internet hookups that stay hooked—don’t need my advice. To counter the false impression created by my column, I invited contented kinksters and happily partnered sluts to send in their happy-ending stories.
Last week, we heard from straight readers; this week, gay, lesbian, bi, and trans readers share their happy endings. Enjoy.
I was an inexperienced 19-year-old girl from the suburbs. After dating for a few months, my boyfriend told me that he was bi. I freaked out. I struggled with the normal question: Is he gay? But my boyfriend was extremely open and honest, we had a great sex life, and I loved him—so I decided to see where this would go.
About a year later, we started fooling around with other guys (my idea), mostly bi guys who gave us equal attention. It’s the hottest thing ever. I was young when we got together and so I’m enjoying playing around a bit, and it turns out that he has a bit of a cuckold fetish. This has brought us closer and helped us let go of ALL inhibition during “normal” sex.
I am marrying the amazing bi guy with a cuckold fetish and I couldn’t be happier.
In Love With A Kinky Motherfucker
I’m a submissive gay boy. I tried dating vanilla tops, but it didn’t work. One night, I initiated a conversation at a club with Mr. Nice. I was actually cruising Mr. Nice’s friend, because his friend looked more hardcore—shaved head, torn jeans, leather jacket. Mr. Hardcore turned out to be Mr. Vanilla. I was disappointed, but I enjoyed the company of Mr. Nice so we occasionally hooked up for vanilla sex. It didn’t work when he tried being dominant, so I had some one-off dates with experienced dominants.
About a year later, Mr. Nice decided to do sex work—as a professional dominant. Learning “on the job,” Mr. Nice transformed himself into Mr. Raunch. And last month, in front of a group of close friends, we celebrated our four-year union—as Master and servant.
My darling husband came out to me a few years ago: He wanted to be a woman, but didn’t want to lose me, his wife. We’re STILL together after all of it—happy and loving, and still enjoying each other sexually. I hope all your success stories involve even half the affection and fun that we have together. Sign me…
Grateful, Generous, Giddy
I was a “bathhouse Billy.” At least three nights a week, I went to the gay bathhouses and took on an awful lot of men. There was one guy I saw at the baths all the time who was so painfully shy he hardly ever came out of the locker room. One day I went to visit a friend and who should open the door? Mr. Shy. I asked him out. One thing led to another and we moved in together. It has been 30 years now. He changed me…
Still A Billy But Only At Home
I used to be incredibly embarrassed by my foot fetish. But the four wonderful guys I’ve dated during my relatively short 28 years on earth have gone out of their way to reassure me that it turns them on to see ME turned on. Now I make no apologies and I make sure to do what I can to turn on my boyfriends and hookups. Sex is so much better now that I’ve relinquished that shame.
Kinky In Minneapolis
I’m femme, she’s butch, we’re dykes. Before we met, my “husband” had ended a sexless relationship of many years and knew she wanted to be more true to her passionate sexual self, but had never considered even the mildest BDSM. I brought up the subject of my ordinary kinks (spanking, daddy/girl role-playing), and she responded like any good lesbian feminist. We talked—a lot. She didn’t want to hurt me, be violent, or act out artificial roles. I questioned whether BDSM had been an unhealthy substitute for intimacy in my previous relationships and might be unnecessary in the context of our new profound love. She questioned her resistance to doing things that would get me wet.
Eight months later, she spanked me for the first time. Then she started referring to herself as “Daddy” while fucking and spanking me. We don’t only have kinky sex, but we have plenty of it. We had a big wedding and we’re living happily ever after. I might have married her even if she wasn’t so GGG, but the self-examination, self-disclosure, and risk taking we’ve done around my kinks has been a very significant, possibly essential, part of the intimacy we’ve created.
My first boyfriend and I were together for three years. It wasn’t a great relationship—we weren’t compatible, he cheated, we fought—but I was too scared to DTMFA. Finally, he dumped me for someone else. We continued to live together, which made it hard to resist continuing to have sex, which created lots of gay drama. Eventually I moved out, met someone else, and began the relationship of my dreams.
That’s a happy ending, but where’s the dirty part, you ask. Well, after I moved out, I didn’t talk to my ex for months. He broke up with the guy that he had dumped me for and started seeing someone new (and much better for him). We gradually started talking and hanging out again, he got to know my fantastic new boyfriend, and I got to know his, and the four of us are now great friends. One weekend we took a trip to a nearby big city, got a hotel room, and consummated the friendship with an intense, several-hours-long fourgy. An entire bottle of lube was used, and after our final moans and grunts, we heard clapping from the hallway.
Gay Couple Friends
I met my boyfriend on manhunt.net. We corresponded for a month before meeting, because we were both out of town. I was so anxious that somebody else was going to get that hot piece of ass before me. When we met the first time, we hooked up that same afternoon. Now we share a home—I cook, he cleans—and he’s introduced me to his family. Not to mention I get to pound his hole every day. Despite how we met, he’s the best partner I’ve ever had: understanding, loyal, and too cute for words.
All the queer happy endings that didn’t fit in the print column can be found below. Next week, we return to our regularly scheduled programming: unhappy endings, hookup disasters, and my very special brand of sometimes spectacularly unhelpful advice.
I was at a science-fiction convention, wandering between a free-cappuccino booth and a free-hard-cider booth, a little drunk and a little buzzed, when an amazingly HOT man wandered into my blurry field of vision. My first thought was, “Wow, his boyfriend is lucky!” Built, 6′ 3″, and furry as a walking carpet—just my type! He walked over and introduced himself. One thing led to a delightful other and our evening would have gotten us arrested in most of the U.S. As I helped put away the ropes, leather cuffs, and other accoutrements, I somehow forgot my wristwatch.
The next morning, I realized I’d forgotten my watch at his apartment and called to see if I could pick it up. I was stunned when his boyfriend answered, amazed when he knew who I was, and astounded when he invited me over for dinner! We talked for hours, the three of us, and I ended up staying the night.
It’s been 11 years, and we’re still together. The three of us couldn’t be more different physically, mentally, or emotionally. I’m 5′ 10″, moderately furry, devoutly pagan, and never met a kink I didn’t like. D is my big hugglebear, Catholic, and enjoys most of my kinks, tender and savage by turns. J is 6 feet, smooth, an excommunicated Mormon, and an incurable romantic and prankster with a Santa Claus fetish. We enjoy sex with each other, and all have fuckbuddies outside the relationship (playing safe, thank you!)—and nobody is jealous. The one thing we all have in common is that we’re GGG—both in the bedroom and in the living room. We celebrate what we have in common, explore our differences, fight hard, play hard, love harder, have Christmas with everyone’s parents in rotation, pay our taxes, vote, and run our credit-card bills too high. Just like everyone else.
So, all you gay-hating, one-man/one-woman, don’t-ask/don’t-tell, missionary-position-only hypocrites: eat your jealous hearts out!
Loud And Proud
I recently spent a boatload of money to obtain a master’s degree and had to move out of state to do so. Unbeknownst me to, the university was raising tuition by 38 percent my first year, and my second year I was denied in-state tuition. Pile that onto a bunch of medical bills I had to pay for surgery right before I left. The loans and savings only went so far, so I decided for the hell of it to put myself in the “erotic services” section of Craigslist.
Well, fast forward to now. I was able to get a decent job and no longer have the need (nor desire) to be an escort. However, one good thing about doing the work was that I happened to run across a very great guy in April and we have been seeing each other for the past month and things seem to be going great. Yes, it is a little strange considering how we met. At the same time, I’m not sure if we would have met otherwise, and he doesn’t seem to have any problems with how we met. I decided that I shouldn’t either.
So, I hope this is one of the many happy-ending letters you will receive this week.
Former Sex Worker
I’m a kinky, bi, semisocialist girl who took a chance on a vanilla-type guy I met through mutual friends. He’d had only two girlfriends before me, while I’d had… let’s just say I was relatively experienced. He’s much more politically conservative than I, and our backgrounds are different in many ways. But we have very similar values (although the way we express them is quite different) and our lives work really well together.
The sex is great. When we were dating, I was pretty direct when I told him what I was into (bondage, corsets, spanking, floggers, etc.) and eventually he let me play with his ass and use various sensation toys on him. He has a cute butt and great nipples. He has become quite a good top for me. Since he doesn’t go for public-play, he lets me go to play parties without him (I keep my panties on).
My folks love him and his family likes me, too. We’ve been married just over a year and together for almost five years. It just keeps getting better.
Lady Offers Valentine Experience
A few months ago I wrote to you about controlling a fetish. I’d found myself attracted to bigger guys than usual and was afraid I was bound for a life chasing after Jabba the Hutt. I’ve learned to love the big boys and found that they’re quite flattered by the attention, which turns me on even more. I tend to go for the former-football-player type, but now just about any beefy guy with a smooth body can get me hard just by walking by me.
Loving All Fat Fuckers
Seven years ago or so I was a closeted gay guy in my late 20s, and a virgin to boot. My “kink” if you will was a preference for older guys. After much mulling it over, I decided to contact someone in a classified ad on the internet to give the whole gay-sex thing a whirl.
I’d had my eye on a guy for some time who lived in the city I’d previously lived in (I’d recently moved about 500 miles away). So I finally got the nerve up to e-mail him, and we met in person a month or two later when I was visiting. We had a lot working against us: a 30-plus-year age difference, a long-distance relationship, and a first relationship. Now we’ve been living together for six years, out and (relatively) accepted by our respective families.
The Younger Man
Nearly eight years ago I started dating a guy who I would be with for five years. Shortly after I started dating him I met his best friend—a real hottie! The guy I was dating convinced his best friend to act as bait in a little game of “let’s trick him into thinking you want to hook up with him so I can catch him trying to cheat on me.” The game was poorly played and didn’t work. I stayed with the untrusting asshole and shunned his best friend.
Four years dragged by with Asshole and I gradually became less annoyed by his best friend. Eventually the best friend needed to get out of a bad living arrangement and asked if he could move in with us for a while. I grudgingly agreed. He and I spent a lot of time together while Asshole was at work. It didn’t take long before I realized that he saw what an asshole Asshole was, felt sorry for me, and thought I should be sainted for putting up with it for that long.
I decided Asshole’s best friend wasn’t so bad after all. I told Asshole it was over, he moved out, and the former best friend and I became an item shortly thereafter. We married on Valentine’s Day 2005. We’ve had our ups and downs, but I’ve never been happier. I cherish every moment we have together and only wish I’d had the sense to make a move on him eight years ago.
No Clever Acronym
I met my true love two years after divorcing my wife. We met at a bathhouse. I was there because I was too drunk to drive home and nothing else was open, he was there after ending a yearlong relationship and only wanted to get laid.
After messing around a little, I asked if he cared to go back to my place. He accepted halfheartedly. He made it very clear that he was only interested in a one-night stand. After an evening of mostly talking we found that we had little in common, but politically, socially, and intellectually we were very compatible. As I cleared the breakfast dishes, he handed me his phone number on a scrap of paper and told me to call him sometime. We saw each other again and again that week, and I was smitten. I told him, “I keep getting the urge to tell you that I love you.”
After meeting my best friend and getting her stamp of approval, he joined me at my birthday party. I wasn’t out at the time, so he was introduced to most of my friends as the boyfriend of the woman that lived next door to me. He wasn’t willing to waste time with someone who wasn’t at least working on coming out. Before I knew it, my list of 40 friends that I planned to come out to was sitting in front of me. As I worked my way through the list I was shocked by the lack of rejection. Not one of my friends had a hard time with me being gay. Almost three years later, I’m out to everyone except at work, and I’m accepted as part of his family to the point that his nephews call me “Uncle.”
When people ask how my husband and I met, I say with a grin, “His ex-wife introduced us.” It’s true. Of course I don’t mention that I was spending lots of time in ropes with her hand up my twat at the time.
See if you can follow this: Ted and Alice were married and polyamorous. Bob also lived with them in their home, and he was Alice’s boyfriend/submissive. Then there’s Karen, Bob’s girlfriend (he’s the Top in that relationship). Alice also loved Pat, who is an FTM transsexual—but that’s a whole ‘nother story. Ted (who is now my husband) and I sat up late talking one night after Alice and Bob wrapped me in Saran Wrap and blew my mind with a Hitachi Magic Wand (yes, there are pictures). We hit it off and started dating and when he and Alice decided to call it quits, we married a year later.
We met in our junior year at a liberal-arts college in quasi-rural Arkansas. We met when a mutual friend of ours called me a few days after a formal dance and informed me that her friend wanted to, as she so delicately put it, “fuck my brains out” and that she was sending him over to my dorm room in 20 minutes. This sent me into a frenzy of cleaning usually reserved only for a parental visit. Some liquor, a few hours of Angels in America, and one pair of handcuffs later we had blissfully fallen for one another. We have our ups and downs like any couple, but he’s gotten into my kinks (bondage and dom/sub-play) and I’ve become an avid fan of anime because of him. Two-plus years later we’re still going strong.
Indeniably Nerdy Loverboy Very Excited
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