When we first started dating, he told me he liked latex and shiny clothing and asked me if I’d wear it. I was like “sure, I don’t care, I like you and I like feeling good with you so I don’t care what I’m wearing to get there.”
But when there were times I didn’t want to, such as if it was just cold and I didn’t want to take off my warm clothes to put on cold clothes and I would have really loved to just have under the covers pajama sex, suddenly we had a huge problem.
He resented the fact that I was refusing to give him something he liked. He asked why I would give him something (the expectation of every time shiny) just to “take it away.” He felt that I was judging him for his fetish by sometimes not wanting to dress up.
I resented the fact that I didn’t have a choice. I resented the fact that he could only enjoy me with the fetish clothing. He would say “I do love you but the clothing is just the icing on the cake.” But a cake without icing is a pretty shitty cake. I want to be the icing. I felt like I as a person was only second to the clothing. He would say that was only my imagination but how could I not feel that way.
The few times he eventually “let” me not dress shiny, it was a negative experience anyway knowing that he was only having a mediocre experience and the mutual resentment being an elephant in the room.
Not my current SO, but my ex was really into pegging. I tried it about 3 times, but every event ended in poop. Poop. Everywhere. Is that what is supposed to happen every time? Do other women here do that and experience an overload of doo doo?
After the third time, I knew I couldn’t handle the smell… the sight of it. I wanted to please him, because I knew how much he loved it, but I nearly threw up every time… and actual shit is a mood killer for me. Here’s a nice ending I’ll leave you with: ex-SO had a bit of a drinking problem, and one morning he woke me up after he’d been up drinking all night. He slurred, “Can you get this dildo out of my ass? I lost it.”
I was perturbed, to say the least, and just grossed the fuck out. I put on kitchen dishwashing gloves and went in almost wrist deep… and there was no dildo. There was lots of SHIT… but no dildo. He had to go to the hospital to get it removed. I was done with it. Done with the shit, done with the ass play… just done. I can still smell it. Ugh.
Had an ex insist that we needed to try a threesome. After quite a bit of cajoling we agreed to do it, but he slept with the girl without me beforehand. That was the beginning of the end for us.
Not a current significant other, but I was in a long-term relationship when we decided to try polyamory. We had a couple threesomes and no harm seemed to come from it, so I guess we figured we’d try an open relationship. We established very concrete boundaries like if we ever felt like it wasn’t working, we both had veto power to end the polyamory business.
Well, he fell in love with a girl on the side while also being very possessive about who I could hook up with and “not allowing” me to be intimate with certain men. It turned into him dating another girl for 3 months, lying to me about her spending the night and other things, and then when I tried to exercise my veto to bail out of the polyamory thing gave me a clear “no.” So it all crashed and burned and we broke up, but it’s all good, I’m monogamous, married, and happy now :)
My BF once did the whipped cream thing. He put it all over over his penis and even had a maraschino cherry on top like a sundae and he was splayed out in that “paint me like one of your french girls” pose on our bed when I got out of the shower.
I laughed and laughed. It was one of the funniest things I’d ever seen and completely unexpected.
He actually thought it might be sexy and was very hurt by my reaction. He hasn’t done anything spontaneous or kinky since and doesn’t want oral anymore either :( I think I may have underestimated or misjudged how guys feel about trying to be sexy.
I wouldn’t say it damaged me, but my ex choked me until I passed out once and when I woke up, he was sitting on the floor crying. I wasn’t upset with him, just a bit shaken up. I was the one who’d pressed this kind of bedroom vibe and I was the only person he’d ever slept with (didn’t know that at the time — he lied about it) so I genuinely don’t think he knew what he was doing.
It wasn’t detrimental to the breakup but it did expose some serious miscommunication issues, and sexual incompatibility that really messed with his belief in his own manhood. I’m just glad he didn’t kill me by accident. I was drunk and he was brand new to that kind of kink. Not a great combo.
I told my ex (thank goodness) I had a few intrests that where D/s he took that to mean any time any place whenever he wanted. Safe words be damned. I had a lot of kinks and still do. He took that to mean he could hit me, anally rape me whilst I slept, drag me downstairs by my hair and push me against walls.
He cut me off of everyone that could help under the premise that I was his property and he owned me, I was to inexpierenced to believe otherwise, so I let it happen thinking it was what I wanted.
I eventually left when I met back up with my best friend and he taught me what was happening wasn’t okay. I was 16 going on 17 and I was terrified of functioning without him, but with the help of said friend I left. I’m happy now though with the guy that helped me and we do our kinks and I actually feel safe with him. So there’s that.
I’m no longer dating the lady, but she was getting more into being tied up and stimulated (with like ice or candle wax), and she also had been expressing how hot it was for me to take charge and take what I want.
So I ended up tying her up and started toying with her and out of nowhere she completely broken down, I panicked untied her and ended up holding her for a long while until she calmed down, but I never tried any of that stuff again.
I probably should have tried again later, but it was super scary and I hated the idea of her feeling ‘scared’ around me. We also were long distance at the time, and that pretty much wrecked sex for the whole weekend (which was the only time we had), so the idea of trying something that could potentially ruin a small window of opportunity for intimacy turned me off from it completely.
I took the advice of many women and doctors and “had sex anyway” when I wasn’t aroused while trying to deal with a sudden onset of sexual dysfunction (which I’m still dealing with).
Terrible. My partner did nothing wrong, but I still ended up feeling somewhat like I had been assaulted, despite the whole thing being consensual. Messed me up for a long time, made the dysfunction much, much worse. And my partner didn’t even really enjoy it either, because of how thouroughly I wasn’t into it, so it was a waste of effort and distress anyway.
I was very depressed and had no sex drive. We didn’t live together, so I came to visit for the weekend. On the second night, I was trying to fall asleep when he decided to try it on with me. I wasn’t having it, and told him to put on some porn and masturbate. He like that idea, and kept trying. I kept saying no. He begged for more than two hours, saying that i didn’t have to do anything, I could “just lie there.” I told him he wouldn’t like it very much if I wasn’t enjoying it too, but he kept pushing.
Eventually, I cracked and gave in. He didn’t like it as much as he thought he would, and ended up losing his erection (he never had a problem normally) and not finishing.
It was after that experience that I knew I had to leave. I broke up with him less than two months later. It was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. We tried getting friends for a little while, but he crossed a line after I got with my current boyfriend. We decided together (my current boyfriend and I) that it was best if I cut off contact with him.
He wasn’t fond of that and still tries e-mailing me occasionally. He tried calling a few times, the first couple went unanswered, and he hung up immediately when my boyfriend answered (a decision we made together). He never called again after that.