Someone once asked me how I discovered my fondness for kink. I discovered it the way a lot of people do – through porn. A great many people, especially radfem women, decry rough porn as misogynistic, detrimental to women, and so forth. And while some of it may certainly reach that level, I still think it plays an interesting and, I’d argue, beneficial role in the exploration and development of the sexual fantasies for many people (of all genders).
As I progressed through my first three boyfriends during high school, I enjoyed the vanilla sex that I had with each of them. It was connective sex – sex for the purpose of strengthening a relationship. With my second boyfriend, I’d added anal penetration to the mix. Those of you who’ve been reading me for any length of time know of my love for anal fucking; I have some of my strongest orgasms being buttsexed. During this period of my life, all of my sexual feeling was concentrated in two spots during those sexual encounters – my brain and my crotch. I yearned for more, though I was unable to articulate exactly what I was missing at the time.
For the better part of my high school years I was not a huge consumer of porn. I watched it occasionally, especially when something showed up in search results when I was doing something for school. But I didn’t really use it as a tool in the furtherance of my own sexual exploration.
All of that changed in the summer between my junior and senior year, though. The relationship with my third boyfriend had dissolved, and I wasn’t in a position where I had access to a lot of girls to experiment with. So I was left to my own devices. Porn became one of those. I spent a *lot* of time using porn as masturbatory fodder. And, as many of you no doubt know, if you spend any time at all exploring what’s available on the Internet, you’re going to come across some seriously intense material. Such was the case with me.
I found some sites that featured women being tied up, bitten, spanked, beaten, spit on, etc. I won’t lie and say that I was put off by any of this. I wasn’t. In fact, I found it quite intriguing and, well, arousing. One of the scenes I recall most vividly had a woman who was blindfolded, on her knees, tied to a post, being face fucked intensely. I tried to internalize how this might feel from her perspective – not being able to see what was happening, but having your mouth penetrated so forcefully. The sensual deprivation from one aspect (vision) would be compensated for through an increase in another sense (touch – through the mouth). I was like, fuck, I want to try that. That was the wellspring from which my (hitherto suppressed) desire to be in porn originated.
In another scene I recall, a woman was being fucked, when all of the sudden, out of the clear blue, the man fucking her slapped her face. After a few more slaps the woman had a powerful orgasm. Yes, of course, I am (and was) fully aware that the orgasm was most likely faked, but that didn’t matter to me. It fomented in my mind a desire to experience that at some point.
Fast forward a few months. I had a new boyfriend, one who had a somewhat more aggressive personality than my previous lovers. He wasn’t an asshole (I wouldn’t have been with him if he were), but he was just generally more wound up than my previous boyfriends, and this carried over into the bedroom. He’d had a one-night hook-up with an acquaintance of mine and she spoke highly of his talents in the bedroom long before I hooked up with him. He had a thing for fucking rather than making love, and I became quite fond of the intensity of our sex sessions. In fact, to this day, I prefer to fuck rather than make love.
In a conversation we had one night at his house, after flipping past some soft-core stuff on Cinemax, we talked about watching porn. At first he was loathe to admit he even watched the stuff, but after I explained to him that I thought it was perfectly fine for him to do so and that I did, he finally came clean. Later that night we spent some time on his computer watching some porn. Within about five minutes we were fucking, as you might imagine. I just sat down on him, penetrating myself with his cock, sometimes vaginally, sometimes anally, my back to him, as we watched what was unfolding on the screen in front of us.
Later, we’d return to the porn and the cycle would repeat. As time progressed, I slowly introduced him to some of the rougher stuff that I had enjoyed watching. He didn’t react negatively to it, nor did he ever admit to having watched the rougher stuff at any point prior to my introducing him to it. The lack of any sign of contempt for it bode well for me in my mind.
One evening while we were having sex I asked him to spank my ass. He swatted me on the butt a little bit. I had to encourage him to do it harder. Then harder. And still harder. The final series of swats generated serious stings on my ass – stings that sent little shivers up my spine. I didn’t understand the biology behind it at that point, of course, but I got a sexual rise out of the feeling of that sting each time. Thus began my foray into rough sex. From that point, it progressed into biting, scratching, pinching, and so forth.
One night when we had the house to ourselves, as we were fucking, I asked him to slap me in the face. He just froze; stopped thrusting and everything. “What?”
“You heard me. Slap my face.”
“I can’t do that, babe.”
I had to spend the next few minutes convincing him to hit a girl, to hit his girl. That goes against the grain as to what guys are taught (well, most guys), so I could easily understand his reluctance to engage in that kind of activity. But I wanted him to do it. Not hard, of course, but I wanted to feel the sting of a hand on my cheek – I wanted to see if it would enhance or detract from the feeling I was having in my crotch at that point.
By the time we’d discussed it for a few minutes, his cock had become flaccid. He’d finally relented and agreed to tap me lightly on the cheek when I asked him to, but his cock had basically deflated as a result of or engagement in the serious conversation. I had him stand up, then got on my knees and started sucking his dick. When I got him hard again, we resumed our missionary position on the bed. After a few seconds, I asked him to do it. “Slap me.”
He did. Lightly.
It wasn’t enough.
“Do it harder.”
He sighed. I could tell he was having problems with it, so I finally let it drop for the evening.
Over the course of the next several weeks, he’d gradually come to slap me rather hard. He’d be fucking me missionary, sitting on his haunches, slapping me while I masturbated myself. I instructed him to slap me harder and more frequently when he sensed I was about to cum. It always produced body contorting orgasms. It never occurred to me then that my father would literally have killed this boy had he walked in on what we were doing in many of our sex sessions. He wouldn’t have cared that were were having sex, but if he’d seen the boy hit me, someone would be in jail right now to be sure.
Eventually, we moved to blowjobs, with him fucking my face (we didn’t call it that then) while standing, as I allowed him to penetrate my mouth, sitting on my knees. He’d pull out, slap me, and put his cock back in my mouth. We never got overly rough doing this because I hadn’t learned to deep throat a cock at this point. It was more of a slap the face, resume the blow job, slap the face, resume the blow job thing rather than a hard-core, porn-style, face fuck at this point. By this point in time, my sexual experience had morphed into a full body, all-senses kind of thing – a characterization I use to this day to describe how I prefer my sex, emotionally-partnered or otherwise.
When he had to move away (three of my four boyfriends in high school actually moved away rather than us breaking up), I once again picked up with Ashley, a former girlfriend. Ash and I had always enjoyed very physical sex – not really rough, but we would playfully bite, scratch, and spank each other.
I had to go through the same process of encouraging her to slap me as well, though she was much more open to pushing buttons from the outset than my boyfriend had been. We’d come to enjoy biting, spanking, and slapping each other quite aggressively from time to time, and that is true even today when we have the great fortune to cross paths.
Now, however, I don’t have ready access to the aggressive sex I tend to enjoy. I manage to hook up with couples and the occasional woman who can kinda go there, but it’s very rare to find a couple who feel comfortable biting, beating, and slapping a random woman they’ve hooked up with for an itinerant threesome. And I can understand that, really. That’s not something I can just walk into a bar or a club and find, either. I have to have a certain level of trust with anyone I allow to go that far. So I can understand why they’d have issues treating me that way.
Anyway, that’s how I started my venture into the depravity that is rough sex. 😉