Headbangers Ball - Chapter 3
If you can, make a donation to keep Nifty online. Go to https://donate.nifty.org/.
So this is the third installment of a true story about how I developed a unique fetish. It is not for everyone, but if you discover that you are turned on or even curious, feel free to reach out to me (my email is posted at the top). I'm actually hoping to talk to, and even meet, others who are into this, especially if you are the active type who wants to inflict this fetish on me.
So at the end of chapter 2, my buddy and I decided to more our operations to the garage.
The first thing we tried in the garage was the sturdy wooden work bench. That was a natural choice as it was the one thing in the garage that most closely resembled the bathroom vanity. The problem was it was taller than the vanity, and when I sat on the floor, the top of the work bench was too high. So instead of sitting on the cement floor in front of my buddy as he unbuckled his belt and undid his pants and fly, I kneeled in front of him. We tried this but it didn't work that well because I was taller than my buddy, and on my knees my mouth was too high, and since the work bench was taller than the vanity, when he leaned forward to brace himself in order to maximize his thrusting power, we were even more out of sync. I had to lean down too much to get a good position to take his cock, and that moved my skull too far away from the work bench. He fucked my face real good, but we both needed that head banging sound. So then it hit me. I scooted down to the end of the work bench to one of the thick, solid bench legs. Each leg was a 4" square timber, and there was a lower shelf to the work bench that held larger tools and a small gas talk for the lawn mower. The top counter of the work bench was thick and sturdy and would have been ideal. But since it was too high to allow for the right positioning, the smaller, not as thick bench legs would have to do. I could now sit on the floor, legs spread so my buddy could stand in front of me with his pants and underwear down around his ankles and his hard, leaking cock pointed right at my open mouth. Everything lined up the way it should and we were back in business. Once he started fucking my face again, hard enough to bang my skull, we both quickly discovered the work bench leg worked perfectly. We both got lost in the repetitive sounds and sensations and he focused on getting his nut and having a powerful orgasm. The work bench, and also the freedom to make more noise than we could make in the bathroom, allowed him to bang my skull harder than he ever had before. And the new sounds of metal tools rattling on top of the bench added something extra that I believe made him thrust even harder and faster than usual. The problem now was he reached his orgasm a lot quicker. From now on, using the work bench, which gave him the ability to bang my skull harder and faster, cut our average face fucking session from about 9 minutes down to about 6. The jarring vibrations on each impact were stronger, and the electric buzz in my brain developed faster, and still lasted up top 20 minutes after he finished. And on a scale of 1 to 10, the pain level on the back of my skull increased from a 2 (bathroom vanity) to a 5 (sturdy wooden work bench), so that made up for the shorter face fucking/head banging time. Judging from the sounds my buddy made immediately before and during his orgasm, his pleasure level and climax power also increased. To me (and I'm sure to him as well), that was the most important thing.
That first time in the garage was incredible for both of us. It was good to get out of the cramped upstairs bathroom where we had to be quiet. That location still worked fine for quick, normal blow jobs, and I brought other buddies home after school sometimes for just that. I am not gonna make up and interject into this true story some fantasy where all of a sudden 10 or 15 or 50 boys started coming over every day to bang my head. This is a true account and I know from experience that it is very rare to find a guy who is the "yin to my yang" so to speak. Head banging is a strange, abnormal, and very specific fetish and I know it is not for everyone. But over the years I have found that the guys who end up being really into it just don't know it yet. They may have never even heard of this fetish or thought about it, or even been interested in it until someone like me brings it to their attention. And that was the case for my buddy from school. And it was the case for me too. We stumbled onto this by accident. Well, maybe not completely by accident on my part, because there are some things in my past that I now feel are clues as to how I developed this fetish.
Looking back on my childhood, I guess my earliest concrete memories start at around age 4 or 5. By concrete memories, I mean events and experiences that are well defined within a specific time, place, or circumstance. These are not just merely fuzzy, vague, ethereal recollections or impressions. I can tell you exactly where I was and what I was doing at these times. Not surprisingly, I had some idiosyncrasies as a child that I found out really are not all that uncommon. I remember taking a family trip to visit my dad's sister and her family, and they lived about 5 hours away. We drove there in the family sedan. I was about 4 years old and still in a car seat, but it was basically a raised seat that was secured with a seat belt. And I was in the middle of the back seat between my sisters. My dad had a bad temper and flew off the handle easy, but he wasn't abusive or anything, he just got mad and yelled a lot. And it seemed that packing the car for a family trip was one of his triggers, especially when mom would bring out another suitcase after dad had everything the way he wanted it and the trunk was already closed. We grew up with my dad doing a lot of yelling and it was always stressful for me as a kid. I just didn't like people fighting around me. So before we were already on the road, my dad was mad and he and mom had their spat over packing the car. My mom didn't take any crap from anyone, so she always held her own, but after any arguments they both were really good at the silent treatment. They would only talk to each other when absolutely necessary for the next hour or two, and when the fight was bad, maybe an entire day or two. It made me anxious. A therapist later in life would tell me I had "neurotic tendencies" which basically means I get anxious very easily, worry excessively over things I usually cannot control, and I have a poor response to stress. I'm no mental case by any means, I just have a lot of anxiety, and for a period of time I even experienced somewhat frequent panic attacks. I was in therapy for a breif time at the beginning of college because I had some freak outs that I was told amounted to nothing more than test anxiety, and I also had social anxiety and separation anxiety because it was the first time I was really away from my family for long stretches of time. I was prescribed a benzodiazepine that I could take as needed. They didn't really help me as much as I hoped they would and I ended up giving them to my college roommate for recreational use and alcohol became my drug of choice for self-medicating. And no I am not a raging alcoholic. I drink responsibly. And besides, I have other ways to self-medicate that work even better for me than pills and alcohol.
But anyway, back to this family road trip. Not only were my parents arguing, but my sisters were fighting about something stupid and pretty much all through the trip one of them would be screaming about something, and I was stuck in between them. Added to this, I was already nervous about leaving home and going to a place I was not familiar with, seeing people I did not know. I had very few coping skills, but one of them was rocking. I do remember on this trip trying to rock to relieve some of the anxious stress, but the seat belt didn't allow much mobility, so I was pretty much without any self-soothing interventions. There were bathroom breaks along the way and we stopped for gas and ate lunch at a McDonalds, but those were all very short breaks that offered no real relief as my anxiety escalated just thinking about being strapped back into that car with all that arguing and the chaos of my annoying sisters. By the time we got to my aunt's house, the moment I got inside, I dropped to my hands and knees and scurried around their living room in circles as fast as I could and then stopped and flipped over on my back with my knees bent and my arms folded across my chest and just rocked back and forth from side to side. This was comforting to me.
Another memory that stands out clear is from when I was about the same age, maybe I was a little older, about 5. I know I was in kindergarten because I remember the first time I met David. His mom and my mom already knew each other, and I later learned David lived with his family about 4 blocks away from my house. I clearly remember my mom introducing me to him. It wasn't the first day of school though; it was like an introduction to kindergarten where parents bring their kids in to see the classroom, meet the teacher, meet other classmates. I guess it's like an open house a few days before school actually starts. For me, it was a good thing because my anxiety was through the roof and I excessively worried about being away from home and my family. So this introductory open house was good for me. I met the teacher and she even showed me my desk and it already had my name written on a piece of blue construction paper with ladybug stickers on it. And this is when I met David. I distinctly remember David's mom saying to him, "now you have someone your size to play with" and both mom's commented that we were both tall and bigger than most of the other kids our age. I'm now 6'3" and 180 bounds, so I guess back then I was already showing my size. Anyway, David and I did become friends, and being somewhat neighbors (only a few blocks apart), we spent time together at each other's homes. One time when David was over, I remember playing in the sandbox with Tonka trucks. I was really into trucks and construction sites, and digging holes and moving sand and dirt. Well David and I got into some fight over the trucks and also whatever make-believe construction project we were engaged in. I just remember him yelling at me and throwing something at me and calling me stupid. I got super anxious and ran into the house. I wasn't crying or anything, but I went to my room and lay on my bed and rocked. I remember my mom coming into my room and telling me that David was outside and he is here to play with me and I need to get back out there. And I did, and the rest of our play was fine and there wasn't any more fighting.
But this rocking thing would come up many times. It was something I did to self-soothe when I was upset or anxious or stressed out. I sorta outgrew it by the time I was 12 or so. Sometimes my sisters would bring it up, not out of meanness or anything, just like asking me why I do it. I always said I didn't know. My mom would later tell me I did it as a baby, even when I was just months old. When I rocked sometimes my body moved and my head would hit against the bars of the crib. My parents put padded bumpers in my crib so I wouldn't get hurt. By the time I was out of the crib, I still rocked in my bed. Mom said I used to do it in my sleep a lot, and sometimes my head would hit the wall while I was doing it and I didn't even know it. But I wasn't intentionally hitting my head back then. As I got older I was rocking more often when I was awake, and I didn't hit my head anymore. It was just one of those odd things from childhood that you look back on and think, "man, wasn't I a weird kid?!" As an adult though, especially once I started researching why I want my head banged when I get face fucked, it all started making more sense. I found out what I did as a baby is very common and most people outgrow it. Some of us, however, maintain rocking and head banging as self-soothing coping skills well into adulthood and perhaps all throughout life. There is a name for it: Stereotypic movement disorder (SMD). It's a real thing and you can check it out. But I know if you are reading my story you also want to get your rocks off and you don't necessarily want to be googling medical journal articles. But this is all important to understanding this head banging sex fetish. So if you are like me and like getting your head banged, you will find this interesting. If you are like my school buddy I've been writing about, or like some of the men I have met who have a sadistic bent and like causing pain (consensually) to the people they fuck, then you will also find this interesting as well, as it sheds some light on why a fag like me actually needs this and also how you can get the most pleasure out of taking advantage of my strange -- but also very erotic -- head banging fetish.
So here is a real snippet from an article in the Journal of Movement Disorders. "Stereotypic movement disorders (SMD) such as head-banging, which are common among children, may also occur in intellectually normal adults...." Let me stress that: this can occur in INTELLECTUALLY NORMAL ADULTS. I am not some mental case retard. I am an intellectually normal adult. Anyway, this article follows a 27 year old male and researchers found "The frequency of his stereotypical head-banging increased with anxiety, loud noises, high levels of stress, and boredom. He reported a sense of pleasure from his head-banging...." So yes, there is pleasure in pain! I can attest to that. The article also talks about thumb sucking as a similar soothing technique that can continue into adulthood. Now I also still suck my thumb sometimes but I have pretty much replaced thumb sucking with cock sucking. And while I can get stress relieve from banging my head against a wall myself, it is much more effective when someone else does it to me. So here's my own research hypothesis: Cock sucking + Head banging = the ultimate stress relief for me especially when it is combined with my need to submit and be used. Which means the guy fucking my face controls the fucking and the head banging. That's why this only works with tops or sides or guys with a sadistic bent or fetish: the one using me has to want to be in control and want to bang my head while he gets off in my throat. And that's why it is so fucking hard to find guys who can do this to me. It's not an everyday combination you run into on the street or find on your average hook up app. So if you are reading this and boning up thinking you are one of these guys, the yin to my yang as it were, then please do reach out to me. I don't care who or where you are. I want to talk to you and also figure out if we can meet up.
So here are a few additional general points culled from the research that I feel are important for you to know (with my comments included):
"An adult that still bangs their head when upset and/or frustrated, why? Head banging is considered a stress reliever, even after all of the possible injurious things that could happen. It is more of a habit from childhood, and/or is likely due to heavy amounts of stress and/or abuse from that person's childhood or even adulthood." (I don't consider myself having been abused as a child, nor do I consider my childhood being overly traumatic; so I feel my need for head banging is more about the stress relief and the purging of pent up anxiety and worry).
"Head banging is common in toddlers. It usually begins at about 9 months and stops before 4 years. Some children bang their head for only a few minutes, while others can go on for several hours." (I've done it all my life and I am now the type that needs it for several hours. "A few minutes" doesn't cut it anymore these days!)
"Boys are three times more likely to do this than girls." (I'm a boy!)
"There can be many reasons why children bang their head -- the rhythm comforts and soothes them; it helps distract them...." (and in my case it also relieves a lot of stress).
The other thing, even though I haven't really researched it much, is the addictive nature of head banging. I've already described that electric tingle or buzzing I feel in my brain that starts around 3 to 5 minutes into a good head banging session and can sometimes last 15 to 20 minutes (and sometimes longer) after the guy has dumped his load, pulled up his pants and left. I've never talked to anyone who experiences this same electric buzzing because honestly, I don't know any other guy who takes this head banging fetish to is level. So I only have myself as a research subject. And I know for a fact that this electric buzzing feeling in my brain is very addictive. I need it and I sometimes get really desperate to get it. I mentioned alcohol before; I still drink but I'm not out of control with it. And I find if I engage in head banging while I am buzzed on alcohol, that electric feeling I need doesn't develop. So I would say alcohol depresses that effect for me. I've tried some stimulants, both the prescription and the non-prescription kinds, but they actually make my anxiety worse, and then I get paranoid and any interest in sex goes right out the window. I've experimented with opioids, both the prescription and the non-prescription kinds, and while I get some euphoria, it doesn't help much with the anxiety and they make me sleepy and I get really bad dry mouth, both of which are not good traits in a cock sucker. So I prefer to not be under the influence of any substances immediately before, during, and for a period of time after a good head banging session. The physical sensations in my brain are stronger when I am sober, and that electric buzz lasts a lot longer, and besides, my brain is pumping out those feel-good chemicals on its own without the help of any drugs. Now I do like tops on stimulants. It makes them more aggressive and lowers inhibitions and makes the head banging session so much better. But sober tops are good too, as long as they got that sadistic bent and get off on being aggressive and delivering pain to a fag like me during sexual activities, even in my case when it is all oral sex.
So that's that. I think I'm done with all the medical and psychological information and explanations about what caused me to be this way. I still plan to do more research on my own, but by now I am focused on just accepting it for what it is: a strange sexual fetish. I am also convinced that I am fully addicted to it and I need it often. I can't change that and I don't want to. And I am also not ashamed of it or afraid of what others might think of me. With all that said, I do find it important to explain as much as I just did in order for you and other readers to understand what I need and why I need it. And I want you to understand that it is okay if you find this fetish arousing. You might be discovering you are like me and want this done to you. You now know you are not alone and there is an actual scientific basis for this fetish. But hopefully you are reading this and getting a boner for a different reason, and you discovered that you are turned on by the idea of being one of those selfish face fuckers with the sadistic bent who I love to submit to. And hopefully you cock is hard because you can visualize and even hear my head banging a hard surface -- be it a bathroom vanity, a workbench, a solid table or dresser, or even a wall -- and you want to be the one using me like my buddy does in the face fucking head banging episodes I have described so far. If so, please do reach out to me. But also keep reading future installments, because I will share experiences that pale in comparison to what you have read so far.
But I will end this chapter by circling back to my buddy and more experiences out in the garage. I turned 16 in April at this time and we are up to the point where it is close to the end of the school year. He will turn 17 at the end of July. As I wrote earlier, I had been giving him head for most of this school year and it's only been a few months since head banging became a serious thing for us. As summer approached we started hanging out less often, and throughout that summer we kept a somewhat regular routine, but wasn't able to come over as nearly as often as he had been. That's one of the reasons why moving operations to the garage was a good thing: it intensified things. Our sessions were fewer and farther in between, but the head banging was a lot harder and sometimes the sessions lasted longer, and that made up the difference.
So we both liked using the sturdy wooden work bench out in the garage. I'd scramble in place right in front of one of the thick wooden legs of the work bench. I sometimes thought of it as my happy place. I'd stay fully clothed. He'd just drop his pants. It truly was a well-rehearsed routine. His cock never disappointed. It was average size, but he never had a problem getting rock hard. Maybe this was an addiction for him, too. We never talked about that. But certainly his body was conditioned to fuck and shoot cum while banging my head hard and fast against that solid, sturdy hunk of wood. So just being in the garage and seeing me scramble into place for him was all it took to produce a raging boner for him. This continued for about three weeks, three to four times a week after school. So I guess doing the math, after using the work bench a dozen times or so, I was looking for a different experience. Like I wrote earlier, the garage provided multiple opportunities for experimenting. And it took another conversation with my buddy to make him understand that there was more than just a work bench he could use. Now we never talked much about this stuff and it wasn't easy to just bring it up. So I decided I would say something after our sessions. Now he was always good at banging my head on the work bench. He was steady, consistent, forceful, repetitive and fast. I never had any complaints. So I started by thanking him. I know that seems so simple, but it was a bit embarrassing for me and I think for him as well at first. After a good head bang when he had dropped his load down my throat, I just said "thank you" somewhat quietly while he was pulling up his pants. He just kind of smirked at me. The next afternoon we did it again, almost exactly as the day before. And afterwards I thanked him again. I think I added "that was really good." I kept thanking him after each head banging face fuck and started adding some compliments: "Wow, thank you. You are so good at this;" or "Thanks, man. That was the best one yet!" After doing this for a while he started replying back. I think one of the first things he said was "Whatever." But one time he just shook his head and said something like, "You really like that?" and he said something about not understanding what I get out of it and that the whole thing was kinda sick. But he liked getting off and that's why he kept coming over. One time I made the mistake of thanking him for a head banging face fuck and added, "I really needed that." He sorta snapped back at me and said "I don't really care what you need. I'm not doing this for you." He wasn't trying to be mean or anything, he was just stating a fact and I learned a good lesson. It wasn't about me and what I needed or what I liked. It was, and always had been, about him and what he needs and what he wants. I never disagreed with that. I just misspoke when I thanked him. From then on all of my thankyous focused on him and praised his performance as a head banging face fucker. I learned it was also acceptable to comment on his orgasms. After I thanked him I would comment on the intensity of his climax or the force of his ejaculation or volume of cum he forced me to swallow. Instead of saying "wow that was good, I really needed that" it would be more like "thank you, you were really good today, and you really came hard" or "you got a really good nut today." I was grateful that he never thanked me or complimented my cock sucking skills. That would have ruined everything.
So once this little bit of talking was added to the ritual, it was a lot easier to toss in some suggestions like me sitting against the metal shelving or against the cinder block wall next time. If I remember correctly, the first time I suggested a change like that he just responded "whatever works, man." He really left it up to me and I was able to scramble to any location in the garage the minute he shut the door. This worked well for me because I really liked all the different options we had available to us. And we tried them all. But one spot in particular became my obsession: the cinder block wall.