I don’t want to be ashamed anymore. I don’t want to hide my sexuality.
My first kiss was not on the lips. I actually don’t remember my first “normal” kiss. But I do remember kissing the butt of one of my friends who lived down the street. I remember pushing him on the neighborhood tire swing, with him bent over the vertically hung tire. I would push him as high as I could, then let go and watch him swing.
One day, while he was bent over the tire and I was pushing him up, he farted. I was almost at the peak of lifting him up, so my face was already close to his butt. Then, instead of dropping him or yelling in disgust, I… leaned in to smell. He thought this was hilarious! So I kept pushing him, and he kept farting. I let my face get closer and closer until I finally dived in, kissing his butt while he farted in my face.
I don’t know why I enjoyed that so much at the time. I feel like it went on for a while, then we eventually drifted apart… then I moved away.
I remember the first porn clip I ever saw. I downloaded it on the internet before I was 12. It was a mature nun, smoking a cigarette, pissing into a metal trash can. I loved it. It was so… obscene. She didn’t give a fuck about anything. I wasn’t masturbating yet at that age, but once I did start later on my mind went back to that first exposure many times.
I never let go of my first kiss, and when I eventually masturbated for the first time that was what I thought about. I loved his rudeness, his sweet femininity mixed with biological masculinity. I loved the smell. It was so raw and earthy. I loved that we did it right in the middle of the neighborhood for all to see. We felt no shame.
Years passed and eventually memories weren’t enough. I wanted to find more porn. I finally had my own computer, and began my exploration of my sexual desires. I only wanted the most obscene, rude, and degrading porn I could find. I started out with toilet cams of women pissing. I imagined myself trapped in the bowl while they ignored me and covered me in their piss. I imagined being trapped there for so long that their piss was the only thing that sustained me.
My interests became more extreme. I eventually discovered scat porn, the genre of porn dealing with women shitting. I’d found my home. I found videos produced in Germany, Brazil, and Japan depicting women shitting, frequently on men or even in the mouths of men. I watched them again and again. I felt shame because other guys also discovered porn around this time, and I had no interest in “normal” heterosexual porn. I honestly have never watched that stuff on my own… To me, it seems boring, and potentially triggering now after my trauma.
So, I was stuck with a shameful series of fetishes. My dad eventually found my scat videos, and we were forced to have what can only be described as the most awkward “the talk” ever, with no clear resolution. I just kept it to myself, and let the shame build.
Within my abusive relationship in college, I began to explore my shameful desires. It began when the woman I was with had her period. The abusive husband tried to shame her about it and insisted sex was off the table when it happened. But it wasn’t for me. I didn’t want her to feel shame. I happily performed oral on her when she was menstruating. It felt like a mini act of rebellion, a way to show her she didn’t need to feel ashamed. It was also liberating to me because I was finally able to get my needs met- it was my first step towards realizing the obscene, degrading pleasure I’d craved since childhood.
Being in an emotionally abusive relationship where body shaming was a core feature gave my fetishes a framework I finally understood and didn’t feel shameful of. I wanted people to be comfortable with their bodies. To not be ashamed. To not care what men think. To celebrate everything about their bodies. Even within an abusive, traumatic relationship I found… hope?
After that relationship ended, I was able to find a partner who embraced my weird fetishes. I clung to her for too long because I thought I’d never find someone who was able to make me feel… comfortable? Who showed their obscene disgust towards my male privilege while embracing their own comfort and setting clear boundaries. I had trouble envisioning that happening again. But it did! Many times!
My shame gradually diminished, and I became more open with my sexuality. But I still lived in fear of my private feelings or sexual activities being made public. My emotionally abusive ex had already posted personal letters and journal entries online with my name, and he had posted pornographic videos online of others he’d abused. I lived in constant fear of this happening to me again- I had no way of knowing what he had access to, or where he was following me online. It was a nightmare that didn’t end until he died recently. I was finally free.
So now, I want to control what I disclose about my sexuality and fetishes, where I disclose it, and in what ways. I want to be open about it. I want to scream to the world that “This is me! I don’t care if you think it’s weird! I think your sex and your sexual interests are weird- not because of what they are, but because you’ve never explored your own interests honestly, and you’ve just accepted ‘the norm’. I am not afraid! I don’t want to fit in! I want to be ME!”
I see that opportunity in fetish porn. I know there’s a lot of stigma around sex work, especially entering as a survivor of emotional and sexual abuse. Fuck it. I won’t be told I’m wrong. That my feelings are wrong. That what turns me on is wrong. That people should be ashamed. Fuck that. I want to embrace being a weird, kinky, pansexual animal who loves his body, loves women’s bodies, loves men’s bodies, loves EVERYONE’S bodies! I will not live in fear and I will not be ashamed.