Random thoughts on arousal

Something I have struggled with greatly over the years has been coming to terms with what arouses me.  By struggled, I mean, I have never come to terms with it.  In my youth it was the cycle of masturbation followed by shame followed by denial that would just loop over and over again.  As much as I had hoped that my fantasies would become more normal over time, the opposite happened and the extremity of my perversions only grew stronger. 

This continued for years.  Unable to cope with fantasies I knew were deviant and abnormal, I would go into a frenzy, feed the beast, and at some point of wallowing in shame I would try to purge it from me.  As this began at a young age, the prospect of serious dating was a bit terrifying.  As much as I wanted someone to love and be in love, I dreaded what would happen if I was unable to perform sexually to more standard sexual situations. 

I know that many individuals wired for kink are able to maintain their sexual vigor with vanilla sex.  I envy those people.  I'm guessing that those of you who find yourselves in a boat similar to mine have probably struggled with similar feelings.

I don't expect this to ever really change for me.  It doesn't really matter to me either.  I never plan to vanilla date ever again and being kink-shamed by a Domme actually feeds my submissive mental space. 

I will fully admit that I have a brazen double-standard when it comes to being comfortable with kink.  When I have chatted with dominants about this topic, I have no problem with and genuinely feel that their arousal to non-standard acts is what makes them special.  It's sexy, attractive, and unique.  Their kinks are normal, desirable, and the way things should be.  They should make her proud to have them.

On the other hand, my arousal is weird.  My kinks make me feel like an abnormal and perverse sexual deviant, as well they should.  I should be haunted and tormented with constant reminders of how different I am and should feel lucky every day that a woman exists that tolerates me when the rest of the world would not.  While some have tried to comfort me about this over the years it never really convinces me otherwise as my psyche seems to be absolutely convinced of it.  The closest to comfort that my brain seems to accept without resistance is the notion that my arousal doesn't matter since my penis belongs locked in chastity and doesn't deserve to have orgasms anyways.

This might not be a bastion of my own mental health but it seems to work okay in my brain.