I was sixteen. At the time, I didn't identify as kinky--I didn't even know what kinky was. I was still a prude in some ways, and things like anal sex or group sex or even one-night-stands were firmly in the "ooh, I would never" category for me.
But Kevin had awoken a monster in me. He was the first to fuck me, and once I got used to it, I didn't want to stop. Kevin was not a good person, but he was a good fuck, in a mostly-missionary sort of way.
(Digression: I love missionary. I don't want to make it some synonym for "boring," because missionary is comfortable and intimate and feels fucking fantastic. I love having a man's weight on me and I love wrapping my legs around his ass or planting my feet and grinding up against him. That said... Kevin didn't do much besides missionary.)
One day in early summer, near the end of our relationship, we had the house to ourselves all day. We started fucking missionary, and he couldn't come. It would fit the narrative better if it was mediocre for me, but actually it was amazing. We did it slow and close, belly on belly, chest on chest, cheeks pressed together like slow dancers. His cock was finding new spots inside me and I was coming, over and over, quick little orgasms, shuddering against him. I couldn't stop moaning, my hips turning in slow circles against his thrusts. And it just went on. Minutes were like hours, but I think it really was an hour. Eventually he just stopped. It was amazing but he couldn't finish.
We lay in bed for a while, quietly, him stroking my breasts and starting into space, a little frustrated but peaceful. His cat jumped up on the bed, walked delicately between our naked bodies, rubbed her head on each of us, and jumped down again. "Would you spank me?" I asked Kevin. It was the first time I'd asked for anything like that, but he was game.
I can remember every detail very clearly. I crouched down on knees and elbows and he stood beside the bed. His first touch was tentative, rapid gentle little slaps. Not like that, I told him. Go for it. And he did. He smacked my ass and the sound seemed to fill the house. I don't remember it hurting at all, but my ass was hot and pink afterwards. Kevin spanked me again, and again, my sharp little intakes of breath with each blow becoming moans.
Then he started fingering me. There's two ways men finger women--the tentative, intimate way with one or two fingers curling from the front into my pussy, and the way that just means fucking, where the hand is straight and brutal and the force begins at his shoulder. This was the second. With his fingers in me he kept spanking, hard, and I came so hard, harder than I ever had before, and I screamed.
I turned up and grabbed him, and kissed him hard, and dragged him down on the bed. "Now," I said and meant it. I got on top of him and I started fucking him. It wasn't cowgirl but missionary upside-down; I lay over his body and we were face to face as I slid slowly up and down his cock.
And I leaned down to his ear and I whispered terrible things. Things I had never thought or felt before. I told him that I wanted him to suffer. I knew he couldn't come and I didn't care. I would fuck him for hours and leave him in agony, that was just fine, because I was using his cock now. He was just the man attached to my cock and he meant nothing to me.
Reverse psychology, although I hadn't planned it: he started coming. He grabbed my hips and made me fuck him the way he wanted, hard and fast, and I started coming and we were both screaming together and at the instant of both our orgasms he bit me hard on the shoulder, drawing blood, and the pain felt like another orgasm again.
The next week we broke up. Unrelated reasons. We never had that kind of sex again.
I'll be in my bunk.ReplyDelete
12:41pm Anon -- Wow. I was just going to type 'palate cleanser' when I saw your comment. Eerie.
Anyone want to wager on 'How long until we see a 'Hole-y is a butt slut' comment?' Or do folks think The Great Unlaid has spent his metaphorical misogynist wad?
You promised decent human beings, and here you are, saying Kevin is not a good person. I want a refund!ReplyDelete
Oh darn it. There was actual complexity here. Like, Kevin wasn't a good person in many ways--he was way older than me, he encouraged me to ignore my schoolwork and he did a bang-up job of ignoring his own--but he wasn't like an evil person either, he was never mean to me. He was kind of a fuck-up, but he wasn't indecent.ReplyDelete
My sex life hasn't been all happy sunny fun perfect--in fact just about never--but reality is always complicated.
I have a theory that most straight girls long for a dude who doesn't treat them like a piece of meat, and most straight dudes long for a girl who does.ReplyDelete
Therefore your "reverse psychology moment" makes perfect sense: basically, your monologue to Kevin let him know that you weren't having sex with him because it was sooooo romantic and OMG your souls were merging together into one big sparkly blob and maybe there would also be unicorns - you just flat-out craved his cock. Simple, brutal, and hot.
Anon - Except that I kind of love being treated like a piece of meat (that is, in sex play, not in such a way that I think you actually think it). And Kevin was usually very mushy--not on this instance, but most of the time he was way more into sparkly unicorns than I was.ReplyDelete
I think the "reverse psychology moment" had to do with being simple, brutal, and hot, but not with gender roles.
@Holly: sex play is different (also please note my use of the word MOST).ReplyDelete
Generally my theory applies more to the courtship phase than during actual sex - like, women on dating sites get MOBBED by dudes who send messages like "OMG nice tits wanna fuck" (you yourself have objected to being approached in a "hey let's fuck" kind of way at munches and whatnot). So most of us get tired of fighting to be treated like people and would really like to be approached by a guy who read their damn profile/thinks their personality is interesting/etc. for a change.
Whereas a guy on a personals site will pretty much never get messaged by a woman saying "OMG you're hot and I'd fuck the shit out of you." And they'd like to, for a change. I can totally understand this. I'd miss that if I never got it (but since I have a vagina, I will constantly get that kind of attention, sometimes to a threatening degree).
Although my ex husband actually was the sparkly unicorn type, too, and I think my blatantly carnal nature kind of freaked him out.
I think the approach on dating sites has more to do what you're looking for than just style. It's not that I'm directly put off by sex, but I assume a guy who approaches with a "nice tits" will only want to fuck me, whereas a guy who says "hilarious profile" is interested in also having an emotional relationship with me.ReplyDelete
Hey, I love sex and have had ads before where I was seeking naked funtimes on a casual basis. But I only want to be naked with someone who I feel safe with and with whom I can at least make pleasant small talk (maybe I'm an awkward person but I find I can't shoot the shit with just anyone - lots of times I just can't think of a damn thing to say to someone, which doesn't segue into bedroom time very smoothly).ReplyDelete
So for me it's not necessarily about wanting an "emotional relationship" - it's that when it comes to fucking, I don't want to let my guard down unless I feel someone respects me as a person and doesn't just see me as an anonymous hole (and I know you feel the same way, Holly, from things you've said here before...you just might not need as much getting-to-know-you time as I do before getting down to the sex).
Therefore even my casual sex ads have had a conversational tone and included my hobbies and whatnot, and I'll always respond better to guys who start off with friendly, mostly non-sexual conversation rather than opening with "I'd fuck you. When can you get over here?"
Actually, I agree with you there anon--I like casual sex, but offers from someone that offer literally nothing other than sex leave me cold. When I say "an emotional relationship," I don't just mean long walks on the beach, I mean all non-warm-hole dimensions to the interaction, even a one-night-stand.ReplyDelete
... so yeah, I'm with the "I'll be in my bunk" crowd.ReplyDelete
This was so much more interesting than the Misandry Bubble that I'm not sure I can express it.ReplyDelete
And this is going to sound bad, but I'm going to go mow the lawn some more. But this time it's not a comment on the topic at hand; I just mow the lawn a surprising amount.
Ok, so I read your blog because it is generally highly intelligent and amusing, and because I like your take on matters sexual and I mostly agree with your opinions....... but that was just plain HOT!ReplyDelete
In real life, nothing is ever simple.
I'll be in my bunk too. Whew!ReplyDelete
Roissy has a really good article today about why men should never listen to women about what turns women on :ReplyDelete
This is why Game works.
...and why Dimbos like Holly have no ability to learn how women think, or discuss the subject without getting hissy and loony.
It is funny how most women have no idea how women think. This is why they scream (in futility) against Game.
If Holly was anything but a coward, she would go to Roissy's to debate the commenters (many of whom are women themselves).
IF HOLLY WERE ANYTHING BUT A COWARD SHE WOULD SPEND THE REST OF HER DAYS TALKING TO CRAZY PEOPLE ON THE INTERNET (THERE ARE A LOT OF CRAZY PEOPLE ON THE INTERNET)ReplyDelete
Nope. She is a coward. She could prove otherwise by actually debating the WOMEN at Roissy's (let alone the men).ReplyDelete
But she is a coward. She would rather remain ignorant about how women think.
ROISSY'S SITE HAS LOADS OF WOMEN THEY ARE ALL HOT NONE OF THEM HAS A PENIS WE MEAN IT!!!!!!!!ReplyDelete
You're not my boss, anon, and calling me a coward won't make you my boss.ReplyDelete
Something I always wondered, though: do y'all creepos share these opinions you have with the women you date? I mean, I assume 99% of the time it's a moot point, but on the rare occasion that a woman is a little too shy to say no or she's stuck in an elevator with you or whatever, do you tell her about all these big important opinions you have? Do you tell her that women think like crazy backwards monsters and you're not going to listen to what she says? Do you show her Roissy's blog? Do you mention The Spearhead?
Or are you ashamed of it? Do you feel it's something you have to hide?
oh man, now even the AWESOME Holly posts are going to get all RoissyBlahBlahCreepy in the comments?ReplyDelete
Holly, I know you don't love everything about Shapely Prose but I have grown to ADORE their exceedingly moderated comment policy. It's just a matter of signal to noise ratio.
(god, I sounded so bossy just then. I didn't mean to be; I have had wine. Pervocracy Holly, you are made of awesome!)ReplyDelete
You're not my boss either, flightless. :pReplyDelete
No, seriously, I hate over-moderated blogs. I think that screening for people who agree with you--even screening for people who phrase their disagreement in the terms you prefer--damages your integrity.
The other problem is logistical. I have no "team," and I'm away from the computer for eight or ten hours at a time. When I get trolled, there's usually already replies to the troll before I see it, and I'd hate to throw the funny out with the crapwater.
And putting every comment into moderation before it gets published would lag the discussion unacceptably.
Also this troll is just so funny. Every time he posts I'm half "grr, you're being hostile and derailing" and half "aww, what a brave little toaster." Don'cha want to pinch his cheek, just a little?
Translation : Holly knows that what I said is right.ReplyDelete
She is too much of a coward to stand by her whining, and debate even the women at Roissy's (who Holly is afraid of), let alone the men.
Roissy offers facts and logic. Holly offers menstruation as a substitute for thought.
Game works, and Holly knows it. That is why she is hiding in cowardice.
See, "menstruation as a substitute for thought," I oughta be paying him for this kind of entertainment.ReplyDelete
But seriously, anon, I just spent an entire week explaining why this shit is ridiculous and you didn't listen to that. If I spent good time and energy explaining why Roissy is a dick, you wouldn't listen to that.
Game works? Great, go out and Game some poor girl. Get your well-deserved Alpha Fuckhole Collection. Don't sit around here on the Internet posting the same thing 600 times on a blog that's not going to change its mind on the 601st.
Funny, I have a Romance lovin' guy too. I'm the one who's like "aw, crap" when I realize I didn't pick up an anniversary card. So many eyerolls over women = delicate, men = dirty tropes.
I wish I was able to ask for stuff like this, but I always get tongue-tied and end up doing something tamer.
Jeezus motherfuck, what the fuck is that unintelligible gibberish "roissy" blog even about? Is it some limp-dick douchebag pretending to be a supermodel or something and telling other limp-dick douchebags what they want to hear about what fucking bitchez all women are?ReplyDelete