Anonymous | DO TELL

Trigger warning: describes rape

I didn’t want to be in a relationship. I didn’t even want to be his friend. Because I wasn’t interested like the other girls, it drove him crazy.

I was home from college and working during the summer. He would talk to me all during my shift, even if it was time for him to go. He became easy to talk to and made me laugh. He then tells me “I don’t mess with small girls. They don’t know how to handle it.” Excuse me? This man didn’t know me from Eve, how do you know what I “can take”? I was now intrigued, very intrigued.

The first time, I shocked the living daylight out of him. “He’ll never talk about short, small women again,” I thought to myself. Sex with him was great. He fulfilled me, even though I never had an orgasm. I trusted him and knew he would never hurt me. I even trusted him enough to not use a condom.

Sex became rough, and I didn’t like it. I would tell him to slow down, but that made him go harder. “I thought you could take it,” he reminded me. Even if I cried, it wouldn’t make him stop. I cried a lot during sex. He didn’t care. The person who made me laugh now made me cry.

He tore me, and it took a long time to heal. I knew something wasn’t right. I visited the doctor because I just needed to be sure. The doctor never called, and I went back to school. A letter came and there was no return address. I have genital herpes. I immediately told him, and he denied it, even though I begged him to get tested. I don’t know if he got tested nine years ago, and I will never know.

6rape, STI, safer sex, unprotected sex, consent, sex, trust, abuse, manipulation, sexually transmitted infection, herpes, condoms, Do Tell, submission, medium,

P.J., 43, Portland, Oregon | DO TELL

Trigger warning: mentions abuse

My first experiences involved an abusive older man. When I found the strength to get away from him, I was fortunate that my next partner was also a virgin and we loved each other. It was easy to feel safe and experiment without pressure. I was able to take this into my next relationship with a man who’d had more partners but less healthy experiences. It allowed me to be more assertive and to encourage him to explore what he liked or was curious about.

That relationship ended in my early 30s. It was challenging to find that most men had never developed healthy relationships with their sexuality, and I felt more pressure to be a certain way or do certain things than I had ever felt in my teens.

In my 40s, I have found I love my sexuality but enjoy it more on my own than with partners who still seem to come from a place of shame and immaturity about their bodies. My rule: if you can’t talk about sex, you shouldn’t be having it.

6abuse, sex, safety, trust, immaturity, communication, sexual health, shame, The Cost of Shame, Cost of Shame, masculinity, Gender Roles, pressure, Do Tell, submission,

Let’s Have An Open Dialogue About Sexuality That Completely Validates My Point Of View f

For the record, there’s plenty of stuff on Do Tell that does not represent my point of view! The whole point of the site is to create a space for diverse experiences.

But I do appreciate the satire over at Clickhole. How flattering!

-Melissa for Do Tell

Source: subjectified

6Humor, sex, Clickhole, satire, sex positivity, The Onion,

Anonymous, 21, Sweden  | DO TELL

Trigger warning: describes rape

Sex has always been an open topic at my house, so I never needed the “sex talk”. My mentality was, sex isn’t a big deal! Even before I had it. But I didn’t want to lose my virginity, like my friends before me, with random guys. So I got a boyfriend thinking that would be a safe bet. That’s the proper thing to do, right?

After four months of “dating”, I finally decided that I’m an adult and should start acting like one. I thought I was ready and that I had done everything right, but when I said no, changing my mind before my innocence was given away, he took it by force.

It wasn’t until four years later that I met my current boyfriend and could enjoy sex and stay in the moment. But still to this day, I have great difficulty saying “no” or “stop” if something feels wrong. I took me six years to say, “I was raped by my boyfriend when I was 15 years old.”

Don’t just talk about the mechanics of sex. People should talk about the feelings surrounding it as well.

6rape, relationships, sex negativity, sex, virginity, emotions, expectations, trust, dissociation, honesty, shame, The Cost of Shame, Cost of Shame, Do Tell, submission,

A. | DO TELL

Sex was something that I did not learn about at home. In my opinion, my parents shirked their parental duty by making it a taboo subject. I feel my unsure of myself when talking about sex and even more inadequate when actually having sex.

I was a “late bloomer” which is really code for fat or ugly. I was a big girl, overweight until I was 22. By then, I felt like I had no sexual identity because I didn’t even know what that meant. I had never had a first kiss let alone being naked with another person. By the time I had my first sexual encounter, I just wanted to get it over with. It was fine, but I had been on a mission. I think that this has shaped how I think of sex.

I have had five partners in the past five years. Three of them have basically been one-night stands. I don’t really see sex as something that is special or important in a relationship. Sometimes it makes me sad, and I other time times I feel awesome because I have a detached feeling about sex. I worry that I won’t ever be sexually satisfied. I am also afraid that I will never find a life-long partner because of how I view sex.

6sex, dissociation, body image, self esteem, body size, casual sex, emotions, shame, The Cost of Shame, Cost of Shame, taboo, Do Tell, Submission,

Anonymous, 27 | DO TELL

Four years ago, lying in bed at the house of my home-stay family in southern Mexico, it finally happened. Me and my long, smooth, purple vibrator finally reached orgasm. A blossoming wave of pleasure came through my belly and my sex and left me feeling sweaty and sated. Wow, I thought. So that’s what it’s supposed to feel like.

I was 23. I had been having intercourse for six years. I had made quite a handful of men reach orgasm, but never myself. I remember telling an ex, “I get bored trying for so long.” “Bored?” he gasped. The idea that masturbation was boring to me shocked him, but I know now that what our society teaches boys—the idea that they are entitled to, even expected to, pleasure themselves at an early age—was not granted to me as a girl.

It took another two years for me to feel comfortable coming in front of another person. I had to really feel deep trust in my partner and, more vitally, in myself. Why? Because my first sexual experiences were with a boy who was sometimes quite cruel to me. My theory is that I came to disassociate trust and sex.

I still come almost exclusively with the help of toys. I recently read a sex advice column in which a young woman said her pussy was addicted to vibrators. The columnist wrote, “bad pussy!” and proceeded to lecture the young woman on ways she could get her pussy rehabbed.

This is deeply offensive. Why do I have some responsibility to my partners to make sure I get off in a specific way? Here’s my analogy: we could walk to the store. It’s going to take a while. Or, I could get behind the wheel. Just relax and let me drive.

6masturbation, anorgasmia, orgasm, sex toys, vibrator, trust, shame, The Cost of Shame, Cost of Shame, expectations, double standard, Do Tell, submission,

V.H. | DO TELL

I’ve always orgasmed easily by myself or during sex. But I’d be lying if I said that was my favourite part. There’s so much I adore about sex—new bodies, their idiosyncrasies, learning how to please my partner, watching them gasp and shudder, feeling their skin against mine, their weight on me. I think it’s that feeling of being anchored into my body absolutely and the world shrinking—my brain slowly turns off and instead of thinking about the future, the past, what’s going on in the world and at home, who is thinking what and why everything is reduced to the person on me, in me, their touch, their smell, the sheet underneath me, their sweat on my tongue, their gasping in my ear. My entire experience of the world is focused on that one person and the one task. It doesn’t matter if I love them or I just met them—that’s just the same for me. And that’s where my satisfaction comes from, from experiencing the person fully.

But my favourite moment in all of that unfortunately rarely lasts that long. It’s the moment just before he cums. I’m lucky in that pretty much all of my partners are extremely attentive. They’re concerned about my experience, enjoying myself, but in those last moments their instinct takes over and they fuck harder, push more, move through the final moments determined to cum and use my body to achieve that purpose. I love those few final, desperate thrusts, or watching their hands strain to stop themselves fucking my mouth. I have to admit that I sometimes get them there and stop, and go back again just to experience that moment again and again. It’s absolutely wonderful. Thank you.

6sex, pleasure, orgasm, masturbation, casual sex, love, physicality, Do Tell, submission,

Anonymous | DO TELL

My first experience with “real sex” was a real disappointment, despite the fact that it was with the love of my life, a compassionate, patient man I’m still married to. No matter what we did, it hurt. A lot. He didn’t want to hurt me, so neither of us got off. It was embarrassing. We both ended up crying.

It turns out that this was a pretty normal symptom of fibromyalgia syndrome. Despite the fact I already had a diagnosis, when I went to my gynecologist, she said there was no connection between painful sex and fibromyalgia. She also suggested I was in pain because I was too young to be having sex.

I didn’t listen to her. I wanted so badly for it to work, so I endured years of pain hoping it would eventually go away. Even though I grew to dread sex, I’ve got a crazy libido, so I wanted it nevertheless. Eventually the pain did go away, and now sex is awesome. I can get off really easily through penetration alone, especially if I’m on top. I don’t think my mentality changed; I think my body did. I’ve gotten many of my other fibromyalgia symptoms under control through medication. The pain went away when the other symptoms did.

If you have IC (Interstitial Cystitis) or FMS (Fibromyalgia Syndrome) or other issues with painful sex, I hope my story helps you realize it’s not “all in your head” and you’re not alone.

6painful sex, fibromyalgia, fms, PIV, libido, health, medical shaming, pleasure, orgasm, penetration, Do Tell, submission,

E.M. | DO TELL

Trigger warning: describes childhood abuse, bullying, and body shaming

Since I can remember and until I was 19, my brother tortured me physically, psychologically, and emotionally. Amongst this torture was the name “Fat Ugly Dyke”. Along with that experience comes exposure to porn at age five, and the result was a confused, obese elementary school kid.

Because of all of this, I have no idea what my sexual identity is. It haunts me every day. I am 280 pounds. Does sexuality have to do with self-esteem? Will I ever not be a question mark? I’ve been in therapy for years. I’ve also been with someone of the same sex. None of this has quelled the gut-wrenching heartache and confusion. In a society that doesn’t give us any leeway to explore our innermost secrets, we are left to wither and die. We will never know if we don’t take the risk of excusing ourselves from those who do not allow us that right. It’s been a lonely road.

6body size, abuse, bullying, sexual identity, fat shaming, homophobia, acceptance, queer, sexuality, self awareness, shame, The Cost of Shame, Cost of Shame, Do Tell, submission,

Anonymous | DO TELL

I had been a confirmed “sexual atheist” since losing my virginity at 14. I felt dead inside, and I mentally blocked anything having to do with sexuality or emotions. I am now a full spiritual being and every nerve and synapse is electric with sensual and spiritual energy.

6sexuality, spirituality, sex, virginity, emotion, self exploration, spiritual sex, Do Tell, submission,

Anonymous | DO TELL

Trigger warning: mentions self harm

I’ve used sex to feed a gnashing hell-hole mouth called my ego. Feeling. Drowning in my own intense feeling. Spitting out carcasses. Shamelessly uncaring about the feelings of anyone else involved. “They” say it’s a symptom of my bi-polar. Which implies a “norm.” I don’t believe there is one, AT ALL. Which is why we’re here.

I’ve put myself into some frighteningly dangerous situations for a taste of inhibition. I like to feel helpless. Overcome. I might’ve died if I didn’t scream so loud. I’d say there is some abuse in my past, but I don’t remember. I know some secrets about a few friends’ sex lives. I’m not alone in any of this. But, this isn’t about them! I’ve mistaken sex for love. I use sex as a tool in my work. I’m about to go to work. :)

6norms, sexuality, bipolar, trauma, sex, love, self harm, Do Tell, submission,

Anonymous | DO TELL

My wife and I have been together for 13 years, married for eight. We met when she was 17 and I was 19. We had a whirlwind romance, moved in together within weeks of meeting, and have been a rock solid couple, very much in love, ever since. Six months ago, we decided to open our marriage; I was her first and only, and after years of talking about it, we decided to explore our sexual selves as individuals outside of our marriage.

One strange thing you slam up against in our situation is the lack of language to describe what’s happening. I want to say that she’s had a—what? partner? boyfriend? FWB? for six months. None of the terms accurately describe the more-than-friends, caring relationship they have. He’s sweet, charming—someone I know and see on a relatively regular basis. Most importantly, he’s someone who respects our situation and is happy to be in our lives. Jealousy is pernicious, but we’re learning to find joy in each other’s extramarital happiness.

6open relationships, marriage, communication, openness, respect, jealousy, exploration, Do Tell, submission, medium,

T., 29, Southwestern U.S. | DO TELL

I love sex. I love giving and receiving oral sex, bringing a partner to orgasm, having at least two orgasms myself. I love kissing, flirting, touching, grabbing. I like when my sex partner talks dirty. I’m loud, and it turns me on to know that someone might hear. It actually turns me on just to write out what I love about sex!

So I am open and sex-positive. I’m not afraid to tell men what I want when I want it. I talk about sex with friends. I have a variety of solo toys. I firmly believe any teenage girl who wants one should be encouraged to own a vibrator.

There’s just one thing. I really, really want to have sex with a woman. And I have absolutely no idea how to make this happen.

6sex, queer, oral sex, desire, orgasm, masturbation, sex positivity, multiple orgasms, female sexuality, shame, The Cost of Shame, Cost of Shame, sex toys, communication, Do Tell, submission, medium,

M.P. | DO TELL

After college, you moved back to Texas. Before you left, I tried to appeal.

"I’m not gay. I’m not like you."

Oh? Tell that to the last three years. They will want to ask you some questions about some of the not gay things you did.

"It’s just never going to happen."

We promised.

"Well I lied. I’m a coward."

And then tears. The hot kind.

-

Four years later. I understand why you felt like this was an impossible choice for you. We were both dealing with hers and hers evangelical baggage. Lots of things are cloudy but one is sure: you changed the trajectory of my life. For that I thank you. I will always I love you. But you are a coward.

6queer, lesbian, sexual identity, sexuality, sexual orientation, religion, homophobia, love, shame, The Cost of Shame, Cost of Shame, coming out, fear, Do Tell, submission,

Anonymous | DO TELL

I have only recently become content with my sexuality. I am biologically female, but I’ve thought of myself as a guy since I was four years old. I realized in my teenage years that I’m bisexual.

My first sexual experiences were with women, but I ended up marrying a man, who is still the only man I’ve ever slept with. He confessed to me a year into our marriage that he was bisexual, thinking that I would leave him. But it was such a relief to realize I wasn’t weird! Now, sex is better than ever, more intimate and adventurous, and I’m finally OK with the difference between what my body is and what my mind says it should be, because I realize that gender and sexuality are not as simple as people try to make them. And that’s perfectly OK.

6transgender, gender, gender dysphoria, sexuality, bisexuality, queer, marriage, relationship, sex, intimacy, gender expectations, self acceptance, self exploration, Do Tell, submission, medium,

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