The following post contains some filthy sex chat about erotic asphyxiation – I’ve put it below/behind the cut so you don’t have to read if that kind of thing disturbs you. Likewise, if you don’t understand that it can be well dangerous, please don’t read on. I realise you can probably work this out for yourself, but occasionally I get linked from Reddit and people leave comments assuming I’m instructing everyone to treat sex like it’s a no-holds-barred Ultimate Fighting championship, and I get stressed. So this message is here as much for me as it is for you.
“It makes your cunt twitch.”
If someone had only told me. Back when I was sixteen, and my teenage boyfriend wrapped his t-shirt around my neck. Very gently, as if to say ‘is this OK? Is this a thing people do?’
At the time I was busy cramming my face with whatever I could eat from the smorgasbord of sex. If I’d seen it or heard about it, I was keen to try it, with the one exception being that trick where you put an extra strong mint on your clit (I’d heard rumours, and they weren’t good). Erotic asphyxiation (aka choking) sounded interesting, but I wasn’t really sure it was my ‘thing’ until we actually tried it.
The first time it barely counted as choking. Just a light pressure somewhere on my neck, that got tighter when he put all his weight down on the pillow. Less of a strangle, more a pleasant sensation as he pinned me gently by the neck and let me struggle against him. Semi-playfully, I tried to move my head to kiss him, and he hovered in front of me: cock snug and tight in my cunt, lips tantalisingly close to mine, and he waited just out of reach until I pushed against the t-shirt.
It made me slightly light-headed, then as soon as I fell back down I could breathe normally again. Just one or two breaths, then back to the struggle.
Fast-forward fifteen years and here I am, standing in a doorway pressed tight against a guy, hoping that when he kisses me he’ll cup my face gently, before sliding his hand down to my throat. Squeezing so so softly, as a hint of what’s to come.
Or lying with my face buried in the pillow and his arm around my neck, squeezing tightly as I push myself into it. Snuggling into it like the choke is somehow a cuddle and the dizziness is love itself.
There are two main types, and each has their merits. The first, from behind. I’m lying on my stomach. He’s lying with his full weight on top of me: crushing me as best he can with his arms and his thighs and his flesh. Dick lodged firmly into me, pinning me to the bed, and one bicep wrapped round my neck: the crook of his elbow providing the perfect place to rest my throat. The pressure right there pulses stronger, each time he pulls me back to meet the push of his dick inside me.
And apparently… deliciously, perfectly… when I cough or struggle my cunt twitches tighter round his cock.
The other way – no less hot, remember – is when we’re facing each other. When I lie on my side with legs spread, one thigh wrapped around his waist and him on his knees looking down at me. Fucking hard like I’ve been bad and it’s punishment. Grinning like he knows it’s not. One hand firmly on each of my tits, leaning down and crushing me with as much force as he can put into it.
Each stroke pushes me backwards, but his hands pin me in place. And the sensation is one of being voluntarily trapped: knowing I can leave at any moment, but understanding that I probably never want to. I squeeze my cunt tighter around him and watch for the flicker in his focused expression that happens just before he comes.
And I take a deep breath, lift my hips, grab his wrists… and place his hands firmly around my throat.