Rough sex can be pretty awesome.
Nowhere is the phrase “human sexuality is pretty complex” more apparent than with rough sex. You’d guess that it’s a fairly new thing given how much you’ve probably seen it covered later in this and many other fine publications.
However, looking back through the annals (heh) of time, gentle sex is probably the outlier in the human experience. At any rate, per the glossies, women are now allowed to enjoy the prospect of good pound-choke-spank sesh without feeling “whorish.” And in a lot of ways, that’s what 21st Century America is all about: evolving from the golden rule to the platinum rule.
The most damnable part of the platinum rule is that most women likely have already been applying it most of their lives. Digressions aside, the thing that makes rough sex a good time instead of something that takes a lifetime of therapy to get over is knowing what your partner likes and/or will tolerate and do that.
Here’s what five men had to say about their best runs at rough sex:
- She dominated me and took complete control.
“One of the most awkward/hottest things that have ever happened to me was when I met a girl, Claire, at a bar on her birthday. She was wearing her stupid little tiara and talking louder than everyone else. For some reason, she came up to me and asked if she could buy ME some drinks.
She was cute and I couldn’t turn down the rare action of a girl treating me. Ten shots later, I was tanked so I gave her my number and abruptly left out the back door. On my way home, she aggressively texted me, asking me where I lived, so I told her. When I got home I went up to bed and passed out.
About an hour later I woke up to Claire, naked in my bed, biting my nipples. Although surprising, I wasn’t mad at it. As soon as I was hard enough, she jumped on and rode me, never taking off her tiara. With no say whatsoever, she dominated me for what seemed like an hour. Every smack to the face turned me on more and more as she worried only about herself, hitting her spot, and orgasming.
When she was finished she got up out of bed, put her clothes on and left. No words were exchanged. I silently laid there in my bed, realizing that that was the sexiest thing that had ever happened to me. She knew exactly what she wanted and got it. There was no bullsh*t cuddling, just rough, sweaty sex. I’m sure we both went to sleep that night tired, happy, and a little more experienced.” — Jan-Michael, 27
- She was really into biting.
“I used to hang out with this tiny girl, like 4’10”, maybe 95 pounds. She was a biter. Not like sweet nibble bites, more like just every once in a while, a violent, random chomp! So, finally, she breaks the skin, and as a normal, human reflex, I recoiled and threw her off me, and you would have thought I was damn Ike Turner the way she went off on me.
Getting yelled at about respect, sitting there bleeding but also with an erection. Boner won out, and I gave her a quick, ‘I’m sorry, I guess,’ and we were back at it. When she tried to bite me, I’d pull her hair hard enough to jerk her head back and that would make her try harder to bite me. I probably should have gotten a tetanus shot.” — Orlando, 39
- She begged me to be more aggressive.
“I assumed I liked it rough, but it turns out that I just liked it hard and fast. This became abundantly clear when a friend jumped me after a night of drinking. We were poured directly from the cab into bed, yet were stark-ass before we hit the sheets.
I started the normal foreplay stuff but was stopped in my tracks with a ‘we’re not making love.’ The next however-long-these-things-take was a blur of ‘If I can get my hand free, you’re not holding me down enough,’ ‘If I can still talk, squeeze harder’ and ‘Make a fist in my hair before you pull it.’
It was an intense lesson in trust and mutual sexual aggression. The whole thing was bizarrely capped off with a cuddle and something similar to making love when we woke up.” — Trey, 29
- We tapped into our innate animalistic tendencies.
“The best sex a man can have is one where he gives himself over to the animal inside. When the primal beast is brought to the surface and collides with a woman who is in her animal, something like this happens.
Just seeing her standing there, jeans crumpled on the floor, hair tied back in the middle of the living room waiting, cleared all thoughts from me save for one singular fact. She. Is. Beautiful. A towel around my waist still wet from the shower, I let it fall and walked with determined steps until we were only inches apart.
I forced the animal inside to slow down and control its instinctual determination. My hand slipped around her waist and pulled her in, skin against skin. The other slid up the arch of her back and grabbed hold of her ponytail so I could bite her neck, collarbone, lips. Her arms wrapped around me tightly, and in a moment the whole universe was concentrated into the sound of stealing breaths.
We dropped to the floor. On top of her, I found my way; pausing at first, we loosened the beast for a few moments. Her hips dug into the rug, I kissed every inch of her until she was at her event horizon, all muscle control disappeared and her entire body dropped to the floor. The point of no return came, and she moaned as I grabbed her hips tightly.
She found the strength to push up off the floor and looked back at me from her primal pose. She threw herself on top of me and the control washers; I submitted. Joined hands, eyes rolled back, simultaneous explosions. Exhausted, complete, content, we rolled around smiling and laughing, hands on each other’s faces. Thankful for one another.” — Howard, 36
You see, I love the kink, but the best sex is when you feel wanted. To be desired is to exist to someone truly. It doesn’t last, but it isn’t meant to.
- We broke the damn bed.
“The roughest sex I’ve had was when I came back from a business trip and hadn’t seen my wife in a couple weeks. The conference was for doctors and surgeons, and all the women in the booths working the show were hot and extremely flirty. I was a good boy but arrived home panting and ready to romp.
We started on the stairs, then I carried her to the bedroom. Flipped her and dipped her and stared at it with a little break in between for two or three hours. Eventually, we broke the bed — the slats cracked! We laughed about it for months. My knees were roughed up from the stairs and my back scratched to hell. She was bruised all over.
We didn’t pour molten wax on one another but we did take out our weeks of longing and probably months of unspoken sexual frustration on each other. I’m glad the kids were still at my parents’ house for another day — they may never have been the same.” — Bart, 46