Sex After Rape

by Victoria R.

"Being vocal about my sexual cravings and limits allows me to regain the power that I wish I had when I was raped. I do hate what my rapist did, but I do not hate my rapist."
Victoria R.
Contributing Writer

Trigger Warning

The phrase ‘my rape’ will be used… a lot. It’s how I have accepted what has happened. Part of my sexual assault experience will also be mentioned.

A year ago, I decided to place myself in a vulnerable but liberating position by posting a contributing piece of two letters I wrote while in therapy regarding my sexual assault. The letters were originally for my younger sister and myself. The purpose of the letter to myself was to discuss how the incident affected me emotionally, and how far I have come in my own life. The purpose of the letter to my sister was to show a form of attempting to speak with my sister about my sexual assault experience. I also wrote a letter to my rapist, but I chose not to include that for personal reasons. 

As I continue my own journey of coping, identifying triggers, and gaining comfort with discussing my rape, I failed to realize that my rape has had some effect on my love life, especially my sex life. Since I identified the incident as rape three years after the assault occurred, the idea of my rape affecting my sexual encounters seemed nonexistent. 

I’m 26 years old, and currently, label my sexual orientation as queer. Part of understanding my sexuality included taking the past year and a half to decipher what brings me the most sexual pleasure. However, part of identifying pleasures is also identifying sexual triggers that reminded me of my rape. 

Looking back at past sexual encounters (with men), I have come to the realization that I allowed the majority of them to do whatever they wanted with me, even sexual acts that I personally did not feel comfortable with. Validation is what I craved, and I was being intimate with men while pushing my own sexual desires to the side. I don’t blame those men for doing what they did at all, simply because I didn’t stop them, or indicate that I was uncomfortable. I wanted to be the woman that was “down for anything”, but I’m not. I have limits, and there are certain things that I don’t enjoy. I’ve also realized that it is perfectly normal to have limits. It’s what makes a sexual being… a human being. 

I must say, I truly enjoy talking about sex with my friends. It’s great to know that they are enjoying their sex lives with their partner(s). As I talk about sex with my girlfriends the topic of fellatio normally pops up. My friends have mixed feelings about swallowing ejaculation, but the common factor is that they do it. I, however, don’t enjoy swallowing ejaculation at all. As my friends question why I don’t do it, I normally brush off the question with an “I just don’t like the taste”. I noticed that the topic of swallowing ejaculation made me uncomfortable.

The moment I realized that the topic of swallowing ejaculation made me uncomfortable is when I realized the topic itself was a minor trigger. I haven’t told my friends that the topic of swallowing ejaculation is a minor trigger for me, mainly because I want to provide them with the freedom of discussing their sex lives.
Who am I, a woman, to stop other women from discussing their sex life freely? 

My draining yet therapeutic journey of coping with my rape has allowed me to connect the dots of what I don’t enjoy sexually, and why. I have come to the realization that part of the reason why I do not enjoy swallowing ejaculation does not only have the do with the taste, but because of my rapist. The thought of swallowing ejaculation brings me back to the moment when my rapist pushed me down to the floor in his “fun room” (his family had a normal living room, and then such ‘fun room’ which included a set of drums, an electric guitar, and a hideous indigo couch) and forcibly opened my mouth to swallow his semen. I remember yelling “STOP IT”, getting up, and running to the bathroom crying as he was ejaculating. 

I have had other sexual experiences with men after my rape who have almost done the same, minus the pushing me to the floor, and the trauma comes back up. For a long time, I wanted to erase that particular moment of trauma from my head, and savor the intimate moment with my male partner. Sadly, my rape doesn’t vanish from my brain, and it is something that pops up the moment I feel discomfort during sex. I have had to find a way to extract my rape from an uncomfortable moment with my sexual partner just because they may not be aware of my discomfort. 

My rape was traumatic. However, I have the comfortability of saying ‘I was raped’. Although my rape was something that lowered my self-esteem and increased my anxiety around sticking up for myself with men vocally, it is something that I had to learn how to do.

Owning up to my sexual trauma made me realize that I had to be more vocal with my partners about what I enjoyed sexually. I had to actually find out what I enjoyed sexually. Coping from rape makes the process more difficult because you are given the assumption that what you enjoy sexually is invalid. 

I had to make the transition from having sex with men just to “feel like I’m doing what a potential girlfriend should do” to “actually enjoy having sex with men”. I had to communicate my desires. I had to understand that if I want to have successful sex with a man, I would need to meet a man who is interested in what I want sexually. I can honestly say men like that do exist. That’s what actually makes them men (there are other things too, of course, but you get my point). 

As I have dated multiple men after my rape/acknowledging my rape, I have gotten better at vocalizing my sexual desires, and my sexual limits. I have acknowledged that my sexual desires and limits are nothing to be ashamed of. They are part of what makes me who I am, and what makes me have an orgasm. 

What inspired me to type this piece, in particular, was a book I read, Moan: Anonymous Essays on Female Orgasm – Collected by Emma Koenig and Forwarded by Rachel Bloom. I recommend every vulva owner to purchase and read this book. It’s safe to say that the female orgasm is barely discussed, and vulva owners identifying what makes them reach orgasm is so important when it comes to sexual encounters with partners and masturbation. As I was reading the essays on how vulva owners orgasm (and those who have admitted to never experiencing an orgasm), there wasn’t an essay on how women orgasm or continue in sexual relationships after being raped, which is understandable. The topic of rape itself is harsh and contains depth that many rape victims/survivors may not want to publicly discuss.

At this point in my adult life, I am getting closer to the point of full comfortability talking about my rape, and how it has affected my life in all aspects. I am allowing myself to be vocal sexually, and enjoy being sexually fluid with both men and women. Being vocal about my sexual cravings and limits allows me to regain the power that I wish I had when I was raped. I do hate what my rapist did, but I do not hate my rapist. Part of having my own sexual liberation was forgiving my rapist for what he did. Forgiving him allowed me to claim peace with myself, and help me continue having sexual relations with men. 

I can safely say that I am aware of what makes me orgasm, and I have gained comfortability within myself to express that to sexual partners. Being a rape survivor, and acknowledging that I was raped doesn’t decrease my right to have sexual pleasure. Being raped does not take away any person’s right to have sexual relations with others. Rape hinders it. Experiencing sexual assault prevents people from enjoying themselves fully sexually. 

I have been raped. I have acknowledged I was raped. I have been in therapy for my rape. However, I have also provided myself with love to know that I am deserving of it, and a mind-blowing orgasm. 

 

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