It started with us sending videos to each other, researching clips and spending time on porn sites to see what got us going. Scrolling through images and footage, looking at the faces of women to see who we recognised ourselves in. It was hard to research; I’d get off easily while watching it. Pretending that the world of porn was some vapid, misogynistic industry poisoning the minds of us all, I would all the while be losing myself in it. Getting horny in seconds.
The thing about porn, however, is that it’s an easy fix. I get wet quick, come quick, and that is that. Although it gets me excited faster there is something painfully dissatisfying about it. There’s an emptiness which follows. It’s too removed.
We wanted to use that and to create content through immersion. There was an element of power about it too. Reversing the male gaze and all that, although to reduce it to some cultural gain isn’t quite the truth. She cared about that. I played along with it. I can’t say my impulses were mere curiosities, I wanted to fuck her. Maybe I was reducing myself to their level through that want. Oh well. If you can’t beat them, join them. Of course there was something hot and elicit, dirty too, about doing it and exposing ourselves to the vastness of the internet. Secrets are always fun and this was to be ours. Well, ours and whoever it would be we were entertaining.
We had joked about it, dared each other drunkenly, almost as a test to each other to see how far we’d go. Sending screen shots of outfits, toys, selfies in bed captioned ‘something like this?’. In the end, it came about somewhat unexpectedly. We had exhausted nights out, app dates and throwing caution to the wind. Needing something more to satisfy our restlessness, we set a date and just did it.
As I got to her house my heart was beating fast. Standing on the doorstep I could feel my body ignite with anticipation. Knowing what was to ensue, knowing what we were about to engage in, my body started vibrating.
She opened the door, smiled, and welcomed me in.
The afternoon light cascaded through the curtains onto the floor, like a pool of gold, some shade stolen from a Pre-Raphaelite painting. It looked sacred which was ironic, or was it perfectly attuned to our activities? I couldn’t tell.
Outfits of satins and leathers were piled on the couch. An adult’s dressing up box. We still engage in the fantasy of dress up long after childhood is far behind us. It’s only the characters we aspire to be that change.
“I thought we could try them all… options” she said. Elegantly picking up a thick ribbon and weaving it around my neck. “Are you nervous?”
“No.” I replied. “I feel pretty good. What do you want to start with?” Having a penchant for leather, I picked up the choker and put it on.
“Wait” she said, “let me help you” She started undressing me, her hands were warm. I echoed her movements. We stood there, smiling, stealing glances at each other but also focused on the task at hand. Removing garments of the day and decorating ourselves with slices of leather and bondage gear.
“Your boobs are great” she said while jokingly cupping them in her hands. Her hands traced my nipples.
I pulled her head up and kissed her. Kissing is often much more exciting than sex. It can be more intimate, more promising. She was a good kisser. Our mouths fit perfectly; her tongue outlined my lips. I kissed her neck, her hands through my hair. We were, delightfully, making out. We had done this before, intoxicated evenings and years of staying at each other house. I think we also both felt a little sparked by what we were doing but the setting was different this time.
I wondered if we should start filming, I didn’t want to break the moment, yet I couldn’t help but be excited that we were also there to document the allure of us together.