I really enjoyed this piece on Trust over at Right Turn Without Signalling
All my life I’ve hated having anyone touch my throat. I would physically knock away any hand that strayed into my comfort zone, whether its intended target was my throat or not. It was an automatic and instinctive reaction that made me wonder if I had been affected by some action in a past life.
Someone once did it during a self-defence lesson. As he sat astride me, I fought down the fear and allowed him to assume a position where he gripped my throat with both hands and squeezed. Then I started to try to escape. However, every time I tried to buck him off, I only succeeded in pushing his weight further onto my trapped windpipe.
I knew he was just my training partner and he wasn’t going to hurt me but that didn’t stop the panic that was flooding through my body and preventing me from fighting him off. Rather than fight or flight, I had frozen.
Perhaps it wasn’t the fairest of tests because, in reality, I probably would never have allowed him to get into such a dominant position but the experience served only to heighten and exacerbate my reaction when anyone move their hand towards my throat.
And then I met Ruf.
It was during the early days of our relationship, we fucked incessantly for entire weekends. Stopping only for food and Match of the Day, we explored as many positions as we could think of.
Testing and experimenting with different ways of alignment and thrust, our bodies intertwining and undulating to accommodate two slippery skins, each intent on obtaining maximum connection.
So many separate juices flowing, mixing and congealing to create cold, damp, tacky patches on the sheet beneath us.
Like an ordinance survey map, contoured with the heady heights of each experience.
His body and mine mutually submitting to the will of the other.
On his knees, towering over me, his cock pinioning my body to the bed, my mind shutting down with sensory overload, he reached down and put one big palm around my throat and squeezed.
It took a moment for my subconscious to recognise the familiar fear and, just for a second, I felt the terror register in my eyes.
But then my sexuality took over and the trust that had become implicit kicked in.
There was no panic. How could there be when the pressure of his hand constricting my windpipe engendered all these other sensations in my brain and my nether regions?
Hell, I wanted him to do it again, it was such an extraordinarily good way of heightening my body’s reaction to his other activities.
And so, from time to time, when I am not expecting it, that’s what happens. He holds me down by the throat and pounds me until almost all the oxygen has been sucked out of my lungs.
The world starts to go a misty shade of grey and there is only the buzzing in my ears and the climax tingling away inside me.
Has the whole hand on throat fear thing been cured forever? Absolutely not. But, with Ruf, our physical connection is so great that a complete sexual trust has grown between us.
I love it whenever he does it.
However, that’s not always a good thing because, whilst he was teaching at a seminar where I was a student, he grabbed me by the throat and pushed me up against a wall hoping that I would demonstrate an escape from this scenario.
Of course, you need to remember that our relationship at that time was a secret…
…so, when I forgot where I was and neglected to react and fight him off…
We both had to hope that the other students viewed me as not very knowledgeable in this type of self-defence :)
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