Vanilla Is Just Another Flavor

And it’s a classic for a reason

Last night, I asked my husband to tie me up.

We were midway through our foreplay. He had gotten me off a few times with his fingers, and I did my best to satisfy him with my mouth.

But now I wanted to feel controlled.

He pulled the straps of our restraint system from under the mattress. He secured the cuffs around my wrists and ankles. I was helpless, with nothing but my voice and his care to protect me.

He pulled my shirt up with a hard tug, revealing my tits and making me feel exposed. And after rubbing my clit to give me two more orgasms, he undid the cuff that held my right hand in place. His hand grabbed my wrist and pulled it down by my pussy.

“Touch yourself.”

With my other three limbs mostly immobile, I rubbed my clit while he circled the bed and watched me, making me feel even more naked than my bare skin already did.

I heard him drag the box of sex toys out from under the bed. I tried to guess what he was getting, but I couldn’t — it could be anything.

A few seconds later, he took my hand again and placed something in it. It was a lubed up dildo — the purple one we call the ghost dick.

“Fuck yourself with it,” he told me.

I felt him standing behind me, watching me push the dildo in and out of my pussy while he stroked his cock.

The commands kept coming.

“Fuck yourself deeper.”

“Don’t you dare slow down.”

“Make yourself come one more time.”

I obeyed all of them without saying a word.

Then, he took the dildo from my hand and replaced it with my favorite toy — a pink rabbit vibrator. I normally use it while lying on my stomach, but I was still tethered to the bed and couldn’t turn over. He teased me, telling me I’d just have to figure out a way to use it while lying on my back.

This time, he was more hands-on. Instead of using his words to help me get off, he used his fingers to assist the vibrations. And when I was getting close to coming, his other hand pressed against my throat, choking me gently and giving me a head rush along with my orgasm.

After that, he dug out a soft flogger we got recently. He tickled me with it while I squirmed in my restraints, begging him to stop.

Once he was done tickling me, he used it for its intended purpose — slapping it softly against my stomach, my thighs, my nipples, and around my pussy.

Then he released me from the straps, but it was only to tie me with another restraint, one that attaches to my feet and keeps my legs pull up high and spread wide.

He fucked me in them for a while before tearing the cuffs loose and pounding me hard until we were both spent and exhausted.

It was one of the kinkiest nights we’ve had in a long time, but it only happened because I asked him to tie me up. The bondage, the power exchange, the choking — they’re not things we do by default. We have to be in the right mood for it.

Often, we just cuddle and fuck. Or he’ll give me a sensual pussy massage until I come so hard I laugh uncontrollably. Other times, we’ll just watch some porn and then masturbate side by side.

That’s why I can’t look down on vanilla sex. Even now that I own two paddles and recently pulled my husband’s hand to my throat so he’d choke me while we were having sex, I’m still holding on firmly to my vanilla side.

I love variety, and I’m not willing to give up on it just because I’ve tried new flavors.

The Girl with the Cuffs

I didn’t always feel so secure about the kind of sex I had or wanted. When I was a teenager, I hated the idea of anyone thinking I was vanilla. That would be like admitting I was boring.

I dressed in punk clothes and wore dark eyeshadow. I secretly hoped it gave the impression that I was a freak in the sheets.

But I didn’t want to take a chance, so I drove around town with a pair of handcuffs hanging from my rearview mirror. I talked a big talk, too.

Anyone hooking up with me would’ve been able to see right through that front, though.

I had sex in the least kinky way imaginable. Most of the time, it was missionary with my shirt on.

If I was with a guy who had less experience than I did, I’d get on top instead. But that was all the variety I had. It was still pants off, shirt on, and a little quick humping.

Eventually, I met a guy who introduced me to rough sex and anal. He mistreated me and dumped me, but he also gave me my first taste of what it’s like to be dominated.

And then I met another guy and did my wildest stuff yet. We had outdoor sex, group sex, and even more anal sex. The girl with the cuffs and the dirty mouth was finally living up to her image.

But when the honeymoon period ended, so did the crazy stuff. As I settled into a long-term relationship, we started having vanilla sex. Some manual, some oral, and a few standard positions. If he was lucky, he’d get a bit of tit fucking.

It’s all I wanted, but there was a little part of me that was a little embarrassed to be so vanilla. What if people found out how boring I was in the sack?

When I look back on it now, though, I realize that my embarrassment didn’t make any sense. I was having great sex. It was almost always better, more intimate, and more pleasurable than the things we experimented with before.

Sex in public places had its thrills — but it was always a quickie with barely any time for an orgasm.

Group sex could be fun, but it often just ended up being awkward. It was something to tick off the bucket list, not necessarily something to deposit in the spank bank.

And every time we did something kinky, we’d always go back to having our usual vanilla sex for a while. No matter how far we pushed ourselves out of our comfort zones, it always felt good to find our way back to it.

Find Your Flavor

I’ve had some very bad vanilla sex. I had it with boyfriends who didn’t care about getting me off, with guys I hooked up with at parties who cared even less, and with my very skillful husband on nights when we just couldn’t get anything right for some reason.

But I’ve also had amazing vanilla sex. Over the last year, Mr. Austin and I have intensified our flirting and foreplay, communicated our desires more openly, and keep switching things up so much we don’t even have a routine anymore.

We’ve been trying some kinkier stuff, too. I’m learning just how hot and exciting it can be — but also that it could easily get boring. If you don’t stay connected and creative, floggers and restraints can become dull and routine, too.

There’s nothing inferior about vanilla sex, and loving it doesn’t make you a prude. So, if you’re vanilla, be proud of it. You can have a varied and exciting sex life. You can have the kind of sex that leaves you panting, sweaty, and puts your bed frame to the test. And there’s nothing shameful about that.

Besides, most of us don’t give up on vanilla sex even if we have a kinkier side. It just becomes another flavor that we enjoy when we feel like having it.

Last night, I asked my husband to tie me up. But tonight, he offered to give me a pussy massage, so that’s what we’ll be doing. (I’ve never turned one down.)

It’s going to be long and sensual. It’s going to be kind of romantic in a pussy-rubbing kind of way. And it’s going to end with a strong orgasm and lots of cuddling.

The blindfold, the flogger, the restraints — they’re all going to stay under the bed.

And that’s fine. They’ll be there when we need them.

This evening, we’re going to enjoy our vanilla fun instead. And it won’t be any less sweet.

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