Butterfly does Snuff
For the glorified Hollywood depiction of snuff, the reality of it is somewhat less erotic and alot more awkward. The sole infirmity to deconstruct my statment is that I lack the enthusiam and apparent experience to bring this to full swing. What ever angle you take on this, suffocating someone is erotically less enticing to me than playing strip poker with folks at a retirement resort.
For the armchair ignorant bigots, who's myopic perception on sex is strictly margined by vanilla sex and have no idea what so ever of anything beyond that, snuff is the act of bringing a person to the edge of death to heighten (apparently) orgasm. Usually, through the medium of suffocation. It's one thing to spew explelatives during sex, but suffocating?!
Like all grave mistakes in my life that is spurned by curiosity, this one started out pretty much like the others. My penchant for new avenues have almost always been met with disasterous effect and this is a puzzle fit to it.
Snuff to me, is void of a novelty factor. My only motivation for an active participation was to keep the sex going. There was only one simple rule I had abide by, 'Choke that bitch till she tells me to stop'. How easy can this get. I feel like the Chess Champion of the Spastic Association already.
She: "Have you tried snuff?"
4 words that challenged my capacity for all things deviant. It was obvious that the night was steered in the direction of a bedlam fest of chokeholds and grapples. I was going to name myself, Chokeman and she was to be The Snuff Master and we'll be facing off for the WWE World Heavyweight Championship.
Naturally, I highlighted to her my inexperience at this, given that my only contact with snuff was a miserly porn flick to which I scrambled the forward button to end what I would have dubbed, worst porn. Only the porn starlet fucking a retriever rivalled this and I promptly switched my favourite dog to Huskies. Next time if your son bears an uncanny resemblence to your neighbour's dog.. DON'T say I didn't warn you.
The following session became a tutorage. An instructional process I subjected myself to, only on a pretext that everything should be tried once.
She: "I want you to strangle me. Put your hand on my neck and squeeze."
I did. 15 years of WWE watching has adequately equiped me with an arsenal of chokeholds.
She: "Noo.. you need to choke me.. not just squeeze the neck."
Usually, I'll flood whoever tells me I wrong with a barage of insults. Not today. For now, I'm a pig, led by the nose with a string of bacon. The sex, as I'd assumed, would not make a difference for me since the one on the receiving wasn't me. So I complied, albeit reluctantly.
Me: "Eh, this is weird.."
She: "Too much for you?"
Nothing challenges me. At that point, I was ready to take a dump on her.
With one hand applying enough pressure to kill rabbits, and the other furtively trying to find a support, I deduced that snuff is void of all erotic merits. I was merely moving along for a ride that was offering less excitement than Monopoly on a Sunday morning.
She: "When I tug at your hand hard, you need to stop."
I, am not amused. Not when someone is enjoying at my expense.
She: "Cover me with the pillow."
She: "Use the pillow to cover my face."
Me: "Are you serious?"
This girl is a pro in what she does. I know so, cos she said,
She: "I do this all the time."
Had I not been so disturbed over the pillow request, I'd swear she said it with enough pride to wear her snuff badge on the chest. While we all boast of sex conquest and blowjobs, her count is on "who's strangled me". Obviously, she goes to a club and thinks, "this guy is hot, I want to be strangled by him."
Me: "It's too weird for me.. I don't think I can do it."
She: "Don't worry, I'll tell you when to stop.."
A coupling of her breathless whisper and her come hither glare took all reservations from me. Maybe, just maybe this might actually work. It didn't help that I was out of rhythm and losing my balance with the absence of a master hand support.
Barely a minute into this, the intricate resemblence to nercophillia starts to play out in my mind. Her faint grunt beneath the pillow and her murmuring, "Harder", was the last straw before I started giggling over the whole ordeal. I was caught between freaked out and amused. And I've laughed enough during sex to know that it ruins everything.
In the middle of me grinning at the sheer absurdity of it and wondering how Heather Graham made it look so passionately beautiful, I realised I was losing an erection faster than fat people at a Pizza Hut buffet.
Me: "Seriously.. I can't do this.. can we just fuck normally?"
Girl: "But this is really good.."
Me: "I can't fuck anything thing without a head. I don't mind choking you but the pillow is too much lah."
She: "You want me to do it on you?"
She was alittle taken back by the way I replied. It was like as if someone had told me something ridiculous like fat and ugly people being part of humanity. The disappointment on her was priceless, like I'd refused her payment for a good day's work.
For crying out loud, it's ONLY snuff. What's so good about suffocation? And, given my track record of messing things up, I'm the LAST person you want to be choking you for foreplay. I'm perfectly capable of crushing your larynx, and you'll be choking blood. It'll be quite funny if that happened.
That's the last I heard before I offered to bodyslam her instead.