We had amazing sex in a kind of scissors position just a few hours ago. His heavy thigh was on my tummy and pussy while he was pounding me. It used to be pretty impossible to make love like that because I’m tight and he’s big, but I’ve loosened up, and who ever said it’s a bad thing, was wrong. Now I got to see him come, his face all flushed with lust. It was wonderful and it felt amazing.
But I didn’t come.
How come it was perfect but I didn’t come?
Let me paint another picture.
He started playing to be my stepfather when I was doing the dishes. He asked me to do some chores and then came behind me and caressed me seemingly innocently. Pushed a bit too tightly against my ass. Run his fingers a little too high from my waist.
I was putting groceries in the fridge when we started bartering. He said I should take my clothes off. I answered I would if he’d give me extra cash and wine. It played out good, he pushed me against the fridge door and groped me. He told me that he wasn’t going to give me anything but I must do exactly what he says or he’ll tell mom all about my mischeafs.
But this is our secret, okay?
I said I was dirty and had to wash up, like to avoid getting naked with him. He let me go to the shower, but when I was showering, he suddenly barged in with a huge hard-on, all oiled up and pulsing happily. He pushed me against the wall, bend me and began fucking me just like that against the wall. He came really quickly. I didn’t.
It might sound like, well, misogynistic bullcrap, but those are actually my fantasies. Those are the stories I shared with him. But in the middle of it I was stunned. There’s really no part for me in my fantasies. If I’m really only the woman. What am I supposed to do? Nothing. In my fantasies the women, if there are any, do nothing. They barely exist. They don’t fight. They sleep. They might be intoxicated or too young to understand (in fantasyland…). They are very much unreal.
But I’m not. I’m a real person. So, how do I take the role I’ve imagined for myself? It contradicts with me even stating any discomfort, which by itself got Wonderboy understandable upset. But he doesn’t understand I’m not doing it out of my ill will. I really have nothing to go on by.
When he came, I said I didn’t and he was shocked. It never used to be like this. He used to know and feel. He didn’t even need to ask, but he always cordially did, anyway. Now he doesn’t ask and I don’t come. I don’t fool myself anymore, but I fool him.
All the beautiful things he does for me. To me. With me. They are in vain, when I have nothing to answer to them. And I am the only one holding me back.
But when I said I didn’t feel like myself. I said I knew I couldn’t have come like that.
And he said Why the hell didn’t you say anything? You don’t have to keep “the scene” perfect – it’s our sex life!
And I answered angrily Well, do you really want to hear “That doesn’t feel good, I don’t feel anything, I don’t like that, don’t do it”.
And he yelled YES! That’s exactly what I need to hear.
And I got it. I have to speak up. Not to be hurtful, but to be truthful. Those are not insults, they are not meant to hurt him. They are what I’m feeling. Why am I not letting him know, what I’m feeling? Because I don’t want to ruin it. But, as he pointed out, it is already ruined if I’m not enjoying. Why am I putting his satisfaction ahead of mine?
Yeah, well. Actually. Um.
Because I don’t matter as much would probably not be seen as a sane and healthy person’s answer. Oh well. Who ever said I was sane.