I’m a big fan of biting.
As a “primal” identifying kinkster, it does something to me I can’t quite do justice to in the written word. Biting, scratching, wrestling – all things that get me hot and need no tools or toys to engage in.
Biting has always turned me on, for as long as I’ve been sexually active. My first girlfriend introduced me to the concepts of pleasure and pain mingling as one, and in doing so sparked a fire that has raged in me ever since. I have an odd relationship with pain – and indeed biting – because part of me, usually at the start, kind of hates it. Then something shifts and I “sink into it”, and while it still hurts (oh god does it hurt), it also feels amazing.
The other thing I enjoy about biting is the marks it can leave behind. I’m not so fond of visible marks – I’m talking about hickeys to the neck and the like – because they’re so hard to hide in a professional setting and I’d rather have some control over who sees and knows what about me, but out of day-to-day sight, I love them. Bruises and bites serve as little memory postcards, whenever I look at my body and see a mark created in play, I can’t help but be transported back to that moment, and smile.
Recently (ish), I’ve turned the tables a little and did a little biting of my own with a play partner of ours, and in doing so discovered that leaving the marks is fun too.
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