This post would not have been possible without @SimplisElegance who turned me on to Janet Jackson's Would You Mind when I needed dirty background music to write. I owe you one girl.
So you guy already know my story – good little Catholic school girl (back when Catholic school girls were actually more virtuous than public school girls) brought up in ultra-WASPy city. My parents were intensely strict about things like chores and manners – we had to do them and have them or we were done for.
They were oddly strict about other things – the rules about television in our house were baffling, to say the least. But if there is one thing they were absolutely liberal about, it was reading. Actually that’s not true. There were rules about when we were allowed to read, but we were allowed to read anything we wanted.
Just hold on to that for a second. I’m coming back to it.
Given my upbringing, there was no reason to think I’d grow up to become anything other than a nice, normal, missionary-loving, non-blow job-giving, good girl. But there was an incident that made things go a little left.
Remember what I said about being allowed to read whatever I wanted? When I was about 12 or so, there was this book. The book as I think of it now. I don’t remember the name of the book or what it was about, but that book included some of the most epic sex scenes known to man. And it’s not as though I’d never read dirty books before – by this age I’d already run through Wifey, Fear of Flying, and The Happy Hooker. But this book was on another level. And even though I didn’t really understand what I was reading a lot of the time, I knew that this book moved me. In a special way.
One day over the Christmas holidays I was lying on my cousin’s bed reading this book, turned on as fuck but not really understanding it. My cousin Shelly – the same cousin who hid my eyes during the shower scene in Sixteen Candles so that I had no idea til I watched it again in my twenties that there were titties in that movie – came in the room. She asked what I was reading and when I showed her the cover she snatched it out of my hand faster than I don’t know what. She started reading where I had left off – a scene that involved a dog and a pussy and that’s all I’m gonna say about that.
To this day I’ve never seen anyone’s eye bug out of their head so bad.
She asked me where I got the book, I told her from my mum. She knows my mum well enough to know that my mum never pre-screened the stuff we read and definitely didn’t realize what the fuck was in that book. And then she confiscated it and warned me not to let her catch me reading anything like that ever again.
Anyway. Time went by and I kind of forgot about the book but I never forgot the feeling. I just didn’t know what it was called (extreme horniness) or what caused it (epic smut). And because I was an extremely ugly duckling in my teen years, I didn’t exactly get a lot of opportunities to recreate the feelings that book inspired in me. Which is not to say that I never got turned on because I definitely did – but nothing close to the level that book took me to.
One day years later I was making out with my boyfriend and he was…well let’s just say he got a little rougher than he intended to. As soon as he realized what he had done he started apologizing. But I wasn’t mad – I liked it. So much so that the next time we were getting it on I asked him to do it to me again. But his half-puzzled, half-judgmental “you like that?” response kind of killed it for me so I let it go, kind of embarrassed that I liked something that he obviously thought was wrong.
Time passed and sex was had. Some good, some bad, but that feeling continued to elude me. Until the first time I had sex with my second boyfriend.
For a reason that has long since escaped me, this dude made me wait a long time before we had sex. And he was (to my 24-year-old mind) so amazing that when the day finally came I was salivating for it. I cleaned the house from top to bottom, groomed myself within an inch of my life, and banished all my roommates for the night. He came in and we sat opposite each other in the living room.
We talked for a while and then he got quiet. He looked at me and then told me to stand up. “Take off your clothes” he said. So I did. He told me to turn around, slow. Bend over. Open your legs. Touch yourself. He asked me if I was wet. If I wanted to get fucked. Everything from my legs to my voice was shaking as I answered “Yes” and “Yes. Please”.
The coffee table in my living room was basically a mirrored block. He told me to sit on the table. Open my legs. Wider. To look down at myself. Look at my pussy. Touch it. Is it wet? Do you want to get fucked? “Yes” and “Yes. Please”.
When I couldn’t stand it anymore he took me upstairs. He made me beg for it, but eventually he fucked me every way I had never been fucked before. Pinned my arms down. Pulled my hair. Said things to me that I had never heard spoken aloud. Made me say things that still make me blush to this day. He skirted the border between rough and violent and I loved every minute of it because finally finally the feeling from the book was back.
In the end he did everything to me that I had read about in that book (except for the thing with the dog and the pussy). And as he was just about to drift into post-robbing of my innocence-bliss he said to me “I knew you would turn out to be a freak”.
And that’s my story of how a good Catholic girl from London Ontario became the freak you know and love today. But what about you guys? I’m not even going to ask if you’re a freak because everyone knows I have the freakiest commenters in the blogosphere. So tell me how you arrived at your freakiness? And make sure you overshare because that’s what the fuck we do on Fridays.