Of all the guys I have dated, none of them have made me feel as happy and loved as the one who others might say treats me the “worst”. John likes it rough. Like, calling me a ‘slut’ and leaving bruises on my ass rough.
He studied biology in college and once told me that one thing that really got him off was placing his hand on a woman’s neck during sex. He’d press his thumb against whatever vein is there and press down. Then, when he gets the girl off there’s like a sudden rush of blood there and he can feel the physical proof that he’s made her orgasm. He likes having that kind of ownership over my body.
When I met him I’d experienced different sides of the spectrum of how men like to have sex. Some like it soft, with as much foreplay as I do, while others were completely emotionally detached (which was no fun for me). I found that most men like at least a little force, if only when they’re really close to cumming. This was always the hottest part, the vivid memory I’d play over in my head again and again the next day — the moment they started to lose control over their better senses and their animal nature took over. It communicated that something about me had made these men so desirous they couldn’t help but be a bit primal about it. What isn’t hot about that?
John brought that feeling to a whole new level. Every time he walks by me in the apartment he grabs me like I’m his and he has to have me.
Often when we have sex it doesn’t start as us being in bed. I’ll be making us dinner and he’d come up behind me and press his body into mine, playing a game to see if he could distract me from my task at hand. With his body draped over mine and me pressed into a counter he’d use one hand to grab a fist full of hair and the other to roughly grab at my breasts, pulling them free from my shirt and bra. When he kisses me that way it’s like my entire body is enveloped by his. It makes me feel entirely wanted and loved.
Other times we’ll be on the couch or in bed and he’ll pull my hand over and drop it on his cock, his silent way of saying “you are mine, and I will use you as I please.” I’ll massage him for as long as I can stand it, before I need to put him in my mouth. On all fours while he lays beneath me he’ll grind his hips to get himself deeper in me and position me until he can reach his arm and me and fuck me roughly with his fingers until I’m gasping all over his dick.
Has has a special album in his iPhone that’s just photos of my ass in varying states of redness. He’ll have me lay ass up on the bed while he spanks me as many times as it takes for him to be satisfied with the color I turn.
Once he sent me a text at work that just said, “Don’t plan on sitting down tomorrow.”
There’s something about a man that knows he wants you and doesn’t treat you like you’re going to break. He cares too much to have some soft, gentle touch. He has confidence in you. He views you as his equal partner in the strong and dizzying act of physically expressing a strong and dizzying romantic love.
So much of modern dating culture is built around the concept of being cool and chill and never being the one who cares more. But you can’t have rough sex with someone while also being chill. You can’t deny that their body makes you feel, do, and say some insane things. There’s no ambiguity, just the refreshing security of knowing someone is totally and completely into you.