I had wanted to write about this topic for a while because it had left a big, positive impression on me. For those who are looking for pictures in this post, you’ll be disappointed (I do have an Instagram feed…). If you care to hear my perspective of having met regularly with someone before and after he had prostate cancer, read on.

Just to get one thing out of the way, I’m not a medical expert, I don’t know much about the psychological impact of being diagnosed with prostate cancer. This is not my area of expertise. What I do know is that catching prostate cancer early can be a life-saver. The person this is about was in his early 40s at the time. Much too young to even think about prostate cancer. Nevertheless, at least in his case, it was a no-brainer to remove the entire prostate as quickly as possible; at least a no-brainer from the medical perspective.

What I also know is that removing the prostate radically changes a perfectly well endowed man future sex life. Literally overnight, a man in his prime wakes up with an unresponsive dick, will never again ejaculate, and it can be a very long time before some form of orgasm and sexual function is restored. I won’t go into the recovery and what the prospects are for restoring some sexual function. Instead, I’ll focus on what it did to our regular dates.

I had seen him regularly for about a year, when I learned that he had cancer. Up to that point, our dates were always a lot of fun, but pretty much what you would expect. Modest levels of kink and domination, more play than serious BDSM. The level that is typically for an escort/client relationship where it is never possible to establish a truly trusting relationship.

Then, there was silence for several months and I assumed that I would not hear from him again. At the time, I was still working as an escort in Europe. While I was a bit disappointed, it made perfect sense — why pay thousands of Euros for a day or two with an escort if there is not even a sliver of hope to end the date sexually satisfied. Probably, I assumed, there was also a sense of embarrassment. Who wants to go out with an escort, when no amount of trying is going to give him an erection?

Turns out, I heard from him a few months after his surgery. It was sweet. He asked if we could book a date, even though I should not expect him to be able to engage in any type of sexual activity. He was healthy, and said he had an excellent outlook for beaten cancer. But when it came to his dick, I should expect absolutely no response. I never thought of our relationship as one where I expected him to perform sexually. He was the one who was paying, and while we had gotten to know each other quite well, I was providing a service to him, not the other way around.

The first time after his surgery, we met for two days in Rome. He went out of his way to make everything special. We stayed at the Hotel Hassler, right on top of the Spanish Steps, and he even arranged for me to arrive a day earlier so that he could get into the room when his overseas flight arrived early in the morning.

At first, I didn’t realize what having a prostate removed really meant. I was naive enough to think that I could get his blood flowing and his limp dick would come right back to life when he saw me. Wrong. After just a few minutes of playing with his penis, which looked by all accounts completely healthy, he asked me to stop. Instead, we talked.

He knew it would take a while, perhaps years, before his sexual function would come back. The little blue pills might help a bit, but it might never again be the way it was before. That was cool with me. I enjoy dates without sex as much as with. If necessary, I could always take care of myself 😉.

That’s when he caught me completely off guard by asking about the kinks that I wanted to experience. Kinks that I had thought about, but never acted on. Obviously, he wanted me to start, so that he could talk about his own kinks. With conventional sex off the table, it was all about getting into the mental games, the sensations beyond experiencing an orgasm. Thrills that he might never have experienced otherwise.

I won’t share my list, I’m more on the fetish side, but here is his. We’re no longer in touch, but he gave me permission to use my experience with him if I ever felt like doing so. Privacy remains of course protected. (Reader warning, there is some intense stuff in here – ):

  • It started harmlessly. He was really into pushing my willingness to be his submissive in public. Not just any public area, but high-end, classy hotels and restaurants. No hiding in corners, out in full view.
  • Then it got more unusual, although still fairly normal in the grand scheme of things. Watersports were a big kink for him. Basically, urinating on me, using me as his toilet (no scat – shit). He was also big into combining kinks. More on that another time.
  • After I was OK with those, he got into heavier kinks. Turns out, one of his more taboo kinks was to inflict pain. That’s of course a huge topic and I wasn’t sure how to respond to that.
  • He went on. Seeing his submissive cry from exhaustion, pain, or fear. Crying itself wasn’t going to do it. It had to be the result of suffering inflicted by him. That sounded creepy to me.
  • Then he showed me a story on one of the BDSM sites. It was short, started out really hot, but ended up being a snuff story (the submissive dies and not by accident – fiction of course ).

At that moment, I was really glad we were sitting in a very exclusive hotel with security cameras and plenty of people around. It was not just creepy, I was afraid he would actually want to act out his kinks (if that is even what you can call it). My reaction was predictably luke warm.

We did (almost) nothing during the entire time we had in Rome, but talk about what was behind his kinks. He was actually much more sane than it first appeared. Sexually, there were a lot of things he would never experience again. Making me swallow his cum, or even seeing a nice facial shot was never going to happen again. He had never really thought about sex in ways that did not end up in an orgasm. This was his attempt to throw out wild ideas, just to provoke a reaction.

Some of his ideas were obviously beyond any limits. But they still got us talking about taboo topics. I’ve always had a fascination with being crucified. Not to the point of actually having nails hammered through my wrists and dying of asphyxiation, but playing out the scene in my mind was incredibly hot. So I started opening up about what I wanted.

We didn’t have the same ideas, but by putting his kinks in the most extreme way possible, he opened up the door for me to share some of my kinks that I would normally have kept to myself.

Over the following year, I saw him several times. He was still not at a point where he could sustain an erection. To be honest, that was perfectly fine with me. Instead, every date we had pushed the limits of some of our kinks one step further. Slowly, with a lot of communication and consent.

I never knew what would happen next, that’s what kept the dates fresh and exciting. By knowing where our limits are, and how broad the range of our kinks was, it had turned somewhat predictable dates into ones that I will never forget. He may not have regained his sexual abilities, but his creativity in pushing the boundaries of our kinks more than made up for anything we could have done otherwise.

Yes, we all like to read and imagine how great sex can be with our ideal partner, or more often our imaginary partner. In reality, we often live much more mundane sex lives.

Having the courage to talk about kinks, no matter how extreme, how bizarre, maybe even crossing the line if they were played out, is healthy. Pursuing only half the kinks imaginable is still infinitely more satisfying than experiencing 100 percent of what we talk about, when that’s not what we really want. Talking about taboo topics, personal kinks, takes courage; in any relationship.