“I no longer need you to fuck me as hard as I hated myself.” – Buddy Wakefield
I remembered this as I lay underneath someone recently, my body being dragged and used any which way. And I felt old and worn down by the whole thing.
I used to adore rough,aggressive sex. I would like to believe I still do and that time, it just wasn’t done right, or it wasn’t with the right person, or I wasn’t in the right mood.
Something simply wasn’t right.
The next morning, the bruises that I used to look at with pride were an annoyance. As were the bite marks and any sign, really, that the act had occurred.
I realized, there’s an art to rough sex.
You can feel the difference between a lover who ravages you, while still being mindful and making sure that you’re both satisfied and comfortable, and one who simply wants to use you like a rag doll.
And possibly, when I first realized that I was a sub, before I knew what I know now, I let some lovers release their frustrations and use me as a stress ball because I felt that was how affection and appreciation was shown. Maybe because I thought one could FIND affection in the one who brings them peace, whatever the reason, I can no longer recall it and so see no reason to let it continue.
My views on sexual performance are pretty simple:
If I’m getting naked for you, appreciate it and treat my body well.
If you get naked for me, I appreciate it and will treat your body well.
Experience has taught me that we don’t all view it the same way. Possibly due to the fact that sex is so easily attainable and people seem to value exclusivity, most feel no need to make it a memorable experience for their partner, even if it’s just for one night.
Sex is usually really a trial run for me anyway, but even during that trial run, one gives their all. I don’t believe in the “It’s only once so it doesn’t REALLY have to be good” excuse.
If you want to be bad in bed, go fuck yourself.