[W]here I come from, sex is taboo. I never learned how to use a condom, I never learned anything about birth control, and abstinence was preached above all else. I was even given a fake plastic credit card as a symbol of my pledge to remain abstinent, a tiny golden card that told us of the “importance of abstinence” that we could carry around in our wallets, intended as something that would remind us of the gift and value of our virginity, along with our commitment to not have sex—and yes, I attended public school.
At the private Christian university I attended, it got worse instead of better. Professors gave talks about how masturbation was evil and addicting, not to mention the sins of pornography. We were told that pornography was basically a gateway drug to sexual promiscuity and broken relationships. Pornography was whispered about in church like it was heroin, making it one of the worst things in which you could possibly indulge. Sex and everything related to sexuality quickly became terrifying, although of course, I was still curious, but clueless. TV and movies were all I had to learn about sex, but I soon discovered that the library scene in Atonement doesn’t quite count as a proper sexual education.
I’ve recently started coming to terms with sexuality, however. I’ve realized that there are issues with my limited knowledge of sex that aren’t just dangerous (hello, condoms) but severely limiting in terms of my relationship with my husband—yup, I’m married now.
So what options are left? My conservative upbringing made it uncomfortable (and embarrassing) to talk to a professional about sex, and I could never dream of mentioning my burgeoning sex life with my friends. Hell, even writing an article about sex is enough to make me blush. Like right now.
Weirdly enough, fan fiction saved my sex life. It’s strange to admit, especially to countless strangers on the internet, but it taught me that sexuality isn’t just OK, it’s a part of life and something to be embraced.
I stuck with fan fiction about fictional characters, mainly because I was (and am) uncomfortable with reading fan fiction about real people—especially sexual scenarios—but also because it allowed me to explore without any secondhand embarrassment. I didn’t want to watch porn or hear about real people having sex because, truthfully, I couldn’t handle it. Sticking with the fictional, however, lowered the barrier of entry (pun intended).
By reading about characters with whom I already identified, fan fiction taught me that I’m not a light switch to be turned on and off when convenient. I knew that arousal was different for men and women, but I assumed that I was defective if I couldn’t get “into the mood” without proper, erm, stimulation. Even then, there were times that sex still wasn’t on my agenda, but I had no guidelines for how to deal with that except TV shows where the woman would feign a headache (and be portrayed as a frigid b*tch for doing so).
Fan fiction provided me with a safe space to explore my sexuality. With only one sexual partner in my life, I’d never had the opportunity to discover what I liked in bed. Sex, as I soon discovered, isn’t something to be ashamed of—and it shouldn’t be.
Not knowing anything about the different types of foreplay, role-playing, different positions, masturbation, and more, I came into my marriage relationship as a virtual tabula rasa. And while that could be viewed as a good thing depending on your personal beliefs, it definitely made sex awkward. I had a vague idea of things I thought I should be doing, but I had no idea how to do them. I didn’t know how to take an active role in pleasing my husband, and I had even less of an inkling on how to enjoy myself in the process. Sure, I could talk to my spouse about these issues—and did—but it often left me feeling deficient.
Fan fiction, however, let me read about healthy sexual relationships without feeling embarrassed or overwhelmed. I could delve into different sexual scenarios on a whim, and I was in control of the process. It allowed me to explore (or avoid) whatever I wanted, which I could then take back to the bedroom thanks to the support of my husband.
Given that women are more often stimulated by the written word than men, fan fiction helped cultivate a healthy sexual appetite within my relationship that had been previously inaccessible to me. Fanfic is often more female-friendly than porn in that it often gives women a more dominant role, especially one in which the female orgasm is just as important (if not more so) than the male’s, along with the ability to choose a story that has a plot (not just sex), making it more immersive in the process. Not only that, this makes erotic fan fiction more approachable—and beneficial—to people like me, who are interested in learning but are often uncomfortable with blatant displays of sexuality.
Honestly, I’m beyond grateful for erotic fan fiction. It’s free. It’s safe. It’s empowering. Why shouldn’t women—and men—be free to imagine themselves having kick-ass sex? And instead of taking away from my relationship, reading about sex this way has enriched our sex life in ways that I definitely didn’t expect. I learned that sex is normal, it’s healthy, and it’s whatever the f*ck I want it to be, because it’s mine (and my husband’s). The concept of “should” doesn’t belong in the bedroom.
Fan fiction doesn’t just offer readers the opportunity to escape, it also reminds us that sexuality— whatever form that may take for you—is perfectly normal. It’s OK to have experience, and it’s OK not to. Sometimes we feel like we need to be having sex (and lots of it), but we’re also expected to be the perfect blend of sexy and innocent, knowing exactly how to drive our partners wild, all while feeling incredibly confident in the bedroom and seeming like eternal virgins. The challenge for women can seem insurmountable, especially when the pressure to perform sexually can absolutely kill the mood.
I’d spent so much time worrying about how to do sex “right” that I forgot the importance of enjoying myself throughout the process. Yes, I want to please my partner, but my own pleasure should be of primary concern, as well. Over the course of our lives, women are subtly taught to view themselves as objects, and sexual objectification is no different. We exist as more than objects to fulfill our partners’ sexual desires, and in my experience, fan fiction can help teach that. As more and more women see and experience relationships—even fictional ones—in which a woman’s sexual enjoyment is just as valuable as a man’s, she can see her own pleasure as increasingly important.
And if you’re looking for an easy introduction to erotic fan fiction, a quick trip to Google will help you find a whole host of steamy scenarios. Start with something simple, like a longer fanfic that simply has sex woven into the broader plotline, or dive right in with a collection of smutty one-shots (these are short, one-chapter-length snippets).
Fanfiction.net and Archive of Our Own are both great places to start, and you can even search based on your favorite pairing or how smutty you want the story to be. Want to imagine yourself as the object of Thor’s affection? It’s definitely doable with a quick search. Or if you’re just dipping your toes in, you can even filter the search results according to rating: If you’re more comfortable keeping it PG-13, do that. Want something more mature? Opt for that! Go forth and embrace your sexuality, find what works for you, and know that wherever you’re at is a great place to be.
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