Why you need to ditch the ‘I hate 50 Shades of Grey’ bandwagon | Cara Sutra
I didn’t want a man (or woman, as it turned out) to look into my eyes and say my name softly as he/she fucked me gently. I wanted to have my wrists held behind my back, I wanted a hand tight around my throat, I wanted my hair around a fist and my head yanked back as I was kissed so hard that I would think I was actually dying from not being able to breathe, for my lips and neck to be bitten until they bled and I had lasting bruises to wear with pride. I didn’t want soft sex in the dark I wanted flipping over and beating with the lights on full. I didn’t want private intimacy I wanted to have hot wax dripped over my tits with an audience watching. I didn’t want a long, hard cock with a rich suitor attached, I wanted the choice of a man or a woman as a sexual partner, to ride life’s taboos which had been denied to me for so long and to taste the most exotic (to some, obscene) pleasures that the world and other consenting people could offer.
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