Consent Every Time

So The Pervocracy is talking about consent again:

I’ve mentioned a couple times that Rowdy and I, despite being together almost two years now, always ask for consent before sex. I feel like sometimes that comes off a little pious, a little bit like this unsexy ritual we go through (or claim to go through) so we can achieve ISO 9000 Consent Compliance or something.

And yup, it struck me that way the first few times I read it, I don’t mind saying. But the exposition is pretty illuminating:

For me, consent isn’t just sexy. Consent is the only sexy thing. My partner’s desire, the fact that he wants me and wants this, is the only reason sex is better than masturbation. I’ve got dildos, you know? I’ve got dildos in multiple sizes that vibrate and never go soft. So my partner’s body isn’t a big deal to me. The ego rush, the head rush, the racing heart and the throbbing crotch I get from sex all come from his enthusiastic participation–from the joy and the umf of knowing he wants me and the things he does because he wants me.

So fuck yeah Rowdy and I ask every time. That’s not a chore. That’s when I start getting wet.

Similar Sex Blogging:

• Holly On Fucking And Feminism
• Holly, Boyfriend, Ass
• The Self-Deconstructing Slut
• Things Were Never The Same After The Buttsex
• Radical Feminists Of Gor