It’s not so often you meet someone you unconditionally trust. But a few weeks after moving to LA at age 29, I got to know such a person.
Andy and I had a relationship beyond labels. We embarked on adventures together: microdosing mushrooms, attending a cacao ceremony, going to a sex party. Each time we met up, we talked about our deepest fears and dreams and even our sexual insecurities.
He started off as more of a best friend than a partner. But after we first had sex on our seventh date, I realized our emotional closeness had paved the way to explore sexual territory that was uncharted for me.
I had recently begun to learn about BDSM, first through a guy who’d introduced me to spanking at a sex party the summer prior, then through a friend who taught me the term ‘consensual non-consent’ — that is, consensually roleplaying non-consensual sexual activity.
When I learned this term, I recognized that I’d had occasional fantasies of this nature. For years, I’d masturbated to the thought of someone aggressively holding me down and having his way with me.
It was almost as if, as I imagined someone’s desire being so strong he couldn’t help but do whatever he wished with me, it caused me to feel that level of desire myself. I also felt terror at the thought — and that terror itself aroused me. I was aroused by the idea of being helpless in the face of a man’s uncontrollable urges and powerful desire. So helpless that I became a mere receptacle.
The societal narrative that men were sexually violent and women were passive victims angered me yet also turned me on, perhaps because it angered me. Because it seemed so wrong.
Andy had told me that he’d been practicing BDSM for several years and considered himself a switch — someone who was sometimes dominant, sometimes submissive. Since I was new to these kinds of practices, we first tried out some light activities: me getting on top of him and pushing him down onto the bed, him placing his hands softly around the base of my neck, not putting any pressure on it but simply stroking up and down my skin.
Male sexual aggression had always been frightening to me, yet when I began experiencing this in a setting where it was my choice, I realized it was something that I liked. I realized that aggression did not have to be violent or threatening. Unless I wanted it to be.
“I realized that aggression did not have to be violent or threatening. Unless I wanted it to be.”
One afternoon, Andy and I were cuddling on my bed, me running my hands through his soft dark hair as his head lay on my chest, when he confessed to me that he’d fantasized about ignoring a “no”. I gulped.
I’d been surrounded by the idea since I was little that men wanted to ignore my “no”, that I had to protect myself by avoiding skimpy clothes, excessive drinking, and dark alleyways.
But I knew Andy well enough to know this wasn’t something he’d ever really do, not if the person actually meant “no”. For the first time, I felt safe to admit that I’d fantasized about having my own “no” ignored.
“I’ve done that before,” he said, ‘We used the safe word ‘cacao’.”
“Why cacao?”
“It’s from an episode of Portlandia,” he shrugged. I laughed.
I still had some trepidation. What if I forgot to say the word in the moment? What if I went along with it but felt traumatized afterward?
“Could we try something like that, but start off slowly?” I asked. “Maybe you don’t fuck me yet; you just hold me down and grind yourself against me.”
“And if you want to stop, you’ll say ‘cacao,’ okay?”
“Okay.”
Andy was normally a shy and softspoken person, a sensitive soul. But BDSM brought out an aggressive, passionate side of him. At my request, he flipped me on my stomach, grabbed my hands, placed them behind my back, and got on top of me.
"At my request, he flipped me on my stomach, grabbed my hands, placed them behind my back, and got on top of me.”
We were still mostly clothed at this point, except that his shirt was off, exposing his three chest and shoulder tattoos. But I could feel him get hard and press against my pussy from behind — and myself get wet as I looked behind me to see the intense gaze in his deep green eyes.
“Stop,” I feigned dissent. He pushed me down harder.
“Let me go.” He didn’t. I got wetter.
“Why won’t you let me go?”
“Because you’re mine,” he growled.
“But I don’t want to be.”
“Well, you don’t have a choice,” his voice grew sterner. “You’re just my little toy now.”
“But I’m more than a toy.”
“Oh yeah? What are you?”
“A person.”
“Not after I’m done with you, you won’t be.”
I tried to see if I could pull myself away from his clutch. He held my hands down harder. I let out a moan of excitement combined with laughter at the thrill of it. I was his toy and nothing else.
I let myself surrender to the feeling of him on top of me, grinding against me, until I started to feel tired of that position and emotionally overwhelmed.
“Cacao,” I said. I needed to pause just to process what we’d done. We could have kept going, and I would have probably been fine, but I wanted to make sure that I didn’t push myself. That I felt safe the whole entire time.
He let go, and I turned around to face him. We locked eyes and smiled at each other. Suddenly, I teared up.
“You okay?” he asked, stroking my hair.
“Yes. It’s just so beautiful to trust someone like this.”
“I’m glad you feel that way,” he smiled at me and ran his hand up and down my body. I leaned up to kiss him.
Growing up, I had learned that men would take advantage of me at any opportunity they got. I’d been warned not to even be alone with a man, or else he’d do something against my will and would not respect my “no”. But here I was, literally telling someone to do something against my will, and he still listened to… maybe not my “no” but certainly to my “cacao”.
“Here I was, literally telling someone to do something against my will, and he still listened to… maybe not my ‘no’ but certainly to my ‘cacao’.”
“I’m a little hot,” I smiled, realizing I was still clothed. “Would you like me to take off my dress?” He nodded as a mischievous smirk spread across his face.
I stood up and maintained eye contact with him as I pulled off my dress, then straddled him and placed his hands on my breasts, moaning as he gently stroked them. I had no more inhibitions, and I’d satisfied my craving to feel used. Now, I was in the mood to once again enjoy my sexual freedom by enthusiastically pursuing what I wanted.
I lay on my back again, squirming and moaning as he ran his hands over my breasts and gently licked and kissed each one. “I like it when you moan,” he smiled. He pulled off my underwear, and I eagerly spread my legs for him. His fingers found their way to my clit and started rubbing it back and forth, just as I liked. I whimpered as my hips bucked up to meet him and sighed as his fingers dipped into my pussy, stroking the upper wall, then reached back up to my clit.
He alternated between these two moves a few times before I the words “yes, yes, fuck, yes — oh fuck, I’m cumming, oh god” cascaded out of my mouth. I shook underneath him, then he slowly withdrew his fingers, and I beamed up at him. Suddenly, he seemed overdressed. I tugged at his pants, meeting his gaze with longing in my eyes.
“I’m curious if you can take off my belt with your mouth,” he challenged me, and now I was the aggressor. Somehow, I managed to unhook his belt then pull it off just enough for him to take off his pants. I pawed at his crotch then grabbed at his waistband and pulled down his boxer briefs, watching the desire in his eyes intensify as I stroked his cock with my hand before wrapping my mouth around it. “I wanna fuck you,” I growled up at him. The fact that he’d expressed his desires so unabashedly made me more comfortable expressing my own.
“‘I wanna fuck you,’ I growled up at him. The fact that he’d expressed his desires so unabashedly made me more comfortable expressing my own.”
I pushed him down on the bed, straddling him and grabbing his hair as I nibbled at his shoulders. My hand found its way back around his cock, jerking it up and down a few more times before he locked eyes with me and told me, “I want it.”
“What do you want?” I smirked.
His expression became serious, commanding again. “I want to fuck you.”
I got up and got a condom, and he wrapped it around himself. “Do you want to get on top of me?” he asked.
“Yes, that’s exactly what I want.” I slowly straddled him again, moaning as I felt him slide deeper and deeper into me. I ground myself back and forth, pushing his chest down and making him groan. Then, I became gentler, kissing him as I slowly lowered myself up and down over him, noticing his eyes big and bright and full of emotion.
“Want to get on top of me?” I asked, and his dominant side returned. He pulled my legs over his shoulders and leaned down to whisper in my ear.
“Mmm, I love your tight wet pussy,” he growled.
“I like when you talk like that.”
“Yeah? You like to hear about my hard cock in your little pussy?”
“Mm-hmm,” I whimpered. “That makes me so wet.”
I crossed both my legs over one of his shoulders before I felt his breathing and moans pick up, and he pounded harder into me. I could tell he was going to cum because I could almost feel it vicariously. I moaned louder along with him as he fucked me, then pulled out and immediately asked, “Want to go again?”
“Sure,” I smiled. He got another condom and got back on top of me, leaning down to kiss me and look into my eyes. As I looked up at him, I felt as if I could truly see him and be seen. There was something about his gaze that was so sweet, so loving, so pure, yet also so animalistic, raw, and uncensored. So himself. So myself.
“There was something about his gaze that was so sweet, so loving, so pure, yet also so animalistic, raw, and uncensored. So himself. So myself.”
I got back on top, leaning backward and throwing my head back in pleasure, and he looked up at me with excitement, running his hands over my breasts and stomach. I noticed his lips parted open and head tilted back, moving from side to side on the pillow until he announced, “Mm, you’re gonna make me cum.” I growled as I rode him even harder. I felt his sexual energy build up then explode inside me, then locked eyes with him and smiled before sliding off and into his arms.
I was still in the mood for a little bit more, so I grabbed my favorite suction vibrator from my bedside drawer and used it on my clit while I lay there, bucking my hips in excitement as I shook in his arms.
As we lay there together, I thought to myself, that’s what connected sex feels like. I’d been in longer-lasting relationships before, but I’d never had an experience quite like this. The vulnerable confessions Andy and I had shared created a mutual trust that allowed me to fully let my guard down, express myself, and be present in my body.
Before, there had always been a part of me that lingered a bit above myself during sex, monitoring the situation to make sure I wasn’t in danger. Once I’d found a way to embrace that danger rather than run from it, I was able to be inside myself again — and to truly let someone else inside me.
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