Fertility treatments, Gender stereotypes, Hyper-Sexual, I am a girl, Learning to negotiate, Love, Wonderboy

Getting It In

I left you hanging there, didn’t I? It’s hard to write about all the hot stuff we’ve done when I feel like my ovaries are going to burst any second. That’s actually something the doctor warned me about, so now I’m lying on the couch and trying not to strain myself. I have 8 large follicles developing in my left ovary, so hooray for us! They’ll take them out and fertilize them on Friday, so wish us luck.

It’s funny, that though I’m hurting a bit and quite a bit more irritable and tired that usually, I’m also more horny. Figures, when you think that the hormones I inject kind of make for a super ovulation. I actually badgered Wonderboy to fuck me without foreplay so that after I’d had an orgasm or two, he still couldn’t. Finally he gave up, hugged me and said that we had just started too quickly. Situations like this always remind me of how the world has screwed us up. I would’ve never imagined that a guy would require foreplay and a sense of being loved in order to have sex when I started out this thing called sex. I thought that was something that was reserved for girls – boys just wanted to get it in.

There was also that time that I really wanted sex, but was too angry to have it. We tried to start but everything went sort of wrong when I freaked after giving him head. I just didn’t want to do it, and because I somehow couldn’t say it (because normally I do want to, even enjoy it, and I was baffled, and also just wanted to get to the sex, dammit!), I got angry and stopped everything and said that this is it, I’m done.

Wonderboy tried to figure out what was wrong and tried to cuddle me with his hard cock starting to droop, and we didn’t know where to go from there. And then he said,

I don’t really feel that the physical stuff is enough. I need to feel the love too.

I tried to explain, still pretty angrily, how I felt – what the hormones made me feel and how weird it was. How angry I was, but tried not to be or express it, because I knew I wouldn’t normally feel that way.

So you feel abnormal? Wonderboy asked emphatetically.

No, I feel normal. I just know that I wouldn’t feel this way, if it wasn’t for the hormones.

And no wonder! They are shooting me up with a doze that would work on a horse (because I’m a poor responder).

Even the leaflet on the medicine we inject said that maximum amount injecting a human is X. My dosage was more than X and also I’m being injected with another hormone to do basically the same thing at the same time. It’s perfectly understandable that I’d have side-effects. It’s just that when Wonderboy got used to the injections and treatments, he also forgot that being more relaxed about it doesn’t change anything the hormones do to me. He does remember now, and promised to go to the grocery store today, because I’m not allowed to carry anything heavy now. My left ovary are so full it could twist and burst, if I do something too strenuous. Also, it hurts just about all the time, so I’m not tempted to try anything. Walking’s enough.

After the discussion, Wonderboy started to caress me from head to toe, just sweeping his hands all over me. And it melted me. All the anger was gone. I caressed him too, much in the same way, and he said later how he felt that he was filled with my love – unlike when we started out and I was too angry.

There was sex. There has actually been so much sex during this treatment that Wonderboy’s required celibacy (for 4 days) is something we both notice. It’s been a long time since 4 days was something to remark on. I hope this is something that we’ll get to keep. But of course I start on the progesterone on Monday, and no one knows what they’ll do to me this time.

I don’t seem to get to the hot and juicy d/s games. I have too much on my mind right now. I’ll just leave these ramblings here and try again later.

Tomorrow is the big day!

Standard
Feminist musings, Gender stereotypes, I am a girl, Love, Top-Bottom Girl, What Women Really Want, Wonderboy

Diamonds are forever

Our second anniversary is nearing. So is Wonderboy’s birthday. I haven’t really had the time to ponder such shallow matters, but now that I have, I want to make him shine. I want to make a statement, and I want that statement to be that I’m his sugar mama, that he’s my jewel, that I want this to be forever.

I want to give Wonderboy…

diamonds.

Big sparkling diamonds for his piercings.

Yeah. He doesn’t really care, if he gets a present or not. He enjoys just spending time with me, going out to eat or something. I usually bake him a cake and I’m going to, for sure. I mean money can buy anything, but a cake is hard work, dammit. So is marriage. So is love.

So. Which do you think would be the loveliest for the love of my life?

1. Round

2. Black

3. Square

I couldn’t resist the pull of Polldaddy!

Standard
BDSM, Gender stereotypes, Love, Sex stories, Stereotypes, Top-Bottom Girl, Wonderboy

The secret wish of a dom – ass play

Just popped in to tell you that I just had my finger up Wonderboy’s ass and it was amazing. For both of us. So, don’t you go thinking and talking nonsense that those poor infertiles never have any kinky fun.

This one’s been a long time coming, too. It’s been a fantasy for both of us, but somehow it has felt too intimidating for him. It didn’t now. It might have helped that when I first licked him, my mascara ran all over my face, and Wonderboy’s a sucker for that. The fragile little hooker look. So there I was all covered with spit and precum, complimenting his hairy ass – ah, I do love the matt of dark hair down there – and fondling it as he stopped me, because it hurt a little too much. I was looking for the lube, when he said: Should I fuck you?

Maybe, I smile and something runs down my chin.

I might come, you know. That feels so good.

I was kinda waiting for you to come, I answer and smile again. And lick his cock, while he’s tugging it.

Or would you like to continue?

I can’t help but lower my head against his thigh and lick it, the hairs and all.

It’ll be ovulation time soon, he says, and then we can’t.

I nod. We have an agreement. I reach for the lube and start, gently. He opens up to me like he did minutes ago, when I was licking him and it seemed like his ass was devouring my tongue, my whole head and I had to back off to breath. I like the way his ass tastes. Sort of metallic. I love the way it feels. His insides. His secret places.

He comes his cock in my mouth, my index finger in his ass and other fingers caressing his balls. I’m doggying around. I got so turned on I rose from the mattress to push my ass and pussy against the sky, to open my thighs and push myself open. He comes and comes, the white goo drips from my mouth to my caressing hand and on the mattress. There seems to be so much of it. He is cramped up from the bed, his mouth an O, his sexy lips open and his eyes closed, just for the second he doesn’t look at me.

People do all sorts of things in d/s relationships. Pegging, for one. It feels like this is not a big deal. People do much bigger stuff. But this was a huge deal. Getting him to accept me to do this. Getting him to deal with the panic he had, when it started to hurt. Taking a small break, adding lube. Talking. Smiling and laughing. Trying again.

Remember that you’re in command. I do whatever you want. I’m your whore. I’ll do anything, I say when I lower myself between his thighs with my lubed fingers finding their tricky way in. When he came he had tugged his hand in my hair to push my face down on his cock. He was ordering me to do this. It was the single most exciting thing I’ve done all year. I was so turned on I nearly came, when his ass started pulsing, grabbing on my finger, pulling it deeper and deeper.

Sometimes the things we want scare us. It just doesn’t seem to fit the job description of doms that they get scared too. It doesn’t seem to fit that doms might want their ass pounded too. They might want things that just aren’t domly enough to ask for. Sometimes my sweet Wonderboy needs reassurance, gentle hands, for me to wait, to be okay with whatever his decision will be. But it’s hard to ask for, when your the one who’s supposed to be in charge.

That’s too bad. Because this? This was one hell of a play session. I’m so owned. I am so happy I could make him enjoy it. I’m so happy I didn’t hurt him. I’m so happy.

Standard
Feminist musings, Gender stereotypes, I am a girl, Learning to negotiate, Love, Male Lead Relationship stuff, Outside the Bedroom, Wonderboy

My share

I’ve had a lot to think about. I’ve had a lot of emotions to wade through.

After I stopped taking the hormones, and now stopped taking the anti-depressants too, I haven’t felt like I want sex. I haven’t even been able to masturbate. A couple of times I’ve felt the rare urge to come, but it’s been muted somehow. When I tried touching myself, it felt repulsive. I mean literally, the feeling of my fingers caressing my pussy was just all bad. It made me want to puke. So I haven’t done, well, almost anything.

We fucked last week once so that I came. The other time I just lay there, trying to connect and enjoy, but didn’t. When Wonderboy had come, I didn’t feel like I needed an orgasm. I felt like I hadn’t had sex. I felt… not numb, but detatched somehow. I was okay and I didn’t even have to try to convince Wonderboy about it. I was so mellow and okay that he knew I was fine. He asked me, if I liked, when he uses me like that and I said yes. I made sure, when he seemed so chipper about it all, that he did realize I hadn’t come. It’s important to me that he knows, if that happens. I like it when he uses me or hurts me, but he has to do it knowing what he’s doing. He answered gently,

There will be a time for orgasms, and caressed my head and pulled me close, gently.

It had the same effect as a child. He was convincing me that it’ll happen. It wasn’t meant to happen now. I felt safe.

What I have been feeling, though, hasn’t been safe or loved. It’s been angry. After all the medication of both kinds had left my body I felt positively angry. I saw things I hadn’t let myself see before.

I was angry at Wonderboy, because I realized even though we’ve decided to be totally equal and do all the housework 50/50, I end up doing a lot more. He just doesn’t do it and at some point I get fed up, working from home now I see all the shit every hour of every day, and then I do most of the stuff. I realized this, when I fell really, dramatically ill a few weeks back. It was a stomach flu that only touched him, but put me to bed for 5 whole days. I haven’t been as sick ever in my adult life without going to the hospital. I managed to walk to the bathroom and back, but that was it. I couldn’t read or even watch anything from my computer, because that made me feel nauseaus. I just slept through the days, vomited, tried to drink some water and was in so much pain.

And it was my turn to go to the store. When I asked Wonderboy to please go and get some juice and whatever he needed, because I was just way too sick to do it, he said you can do it tomorrow, when you’re better. The next day I asked him to go to the store, and he finally did after many pleads. He came back with only one carton of juice and not anything else for me. The next day I had to plead again for him to go to the store, I even had to make it into an argument before he did, and he still forgot to bring me the yogurt I asked for.

This, for me, was a huge epiffany. I’ve gone to the store on his turn, when he’s been tired of work. When he’s had to use public transport and I’ve had the car. When he’s been working late, has been sick or is feeling blue. I’ve sometimes done it surprise him. I’ve sometimes done it without asking him, sometimes he’s asked me, sometimes he’s… what’s the word… blackmailed me into it. He might have said he’d be too tired to do anything with me, if he also has to go to the store.

I’ve always thought he’d do the same for me in a heartbeat. I just never ask. He just never does it.

Now I realize that even, when I’m so ill I can barely make it to the bathroom, it isn’t enough reason for him to help me. He only went to the store, when he wanted something, not when I needed the juice, because I couldn’t keep anything solid down.

I also realized that he was totally thrown by my sickness. He couldn’t face that I was sick. He kept asking me, if I’d get something for him from the other room and even nagged (yes, I’m going to use that word here) about, how he had to do all the food, that he ate alone, alone. That I wasn’t there helping him. I pointed it out to him that he was the only one A) hungry B) able to eat food C) in good enough health to stand the required time to even cook. But he was persistant and I was really ill and not really in a very good situation to negotiate and defend my case. I fell asleep and he was left to brew.

At first, when I got well enough to think – that’s what I do best – I was just pissed off. Just. Really. Really. Pissed. Off.

I noticed a lot of the same thing in a lot of situations. It wasn’t just, when I was sick, it was every day, everywhere. And I put a wall between us. I needed a wall. I needed a break from anything sexual with him, especially anything d/s, since he wasn’t filling up his end of the bargain. The deal was that he could dominate me, even 24/7 use me in whatever way he desired, if at the bottom of it we would share the same responsibilites and he was doing his part of housework, paying bills and generally caring for our family. He didn’t and hasn’t done. He’s let himself slide right back in where he was while he lived with his mother.

So I started enforcing our deal every time he hadn’t done what he ought to. I didn’t concern myself with thoughts like “ooh, he must be tired”, “it’s too late”, “he’s had a long day” or anything. I just plainly said what he needed to have done already and when he trew a tantrum about it, I just kept insisting that he do it, because it was his responsibility. He threw the mom card at me, like he always does. He got angry, because I hadn’t informed him early enough, so how could he have known. I didn’t fall for it. I calmly said that it was his responsibility, and he needs to do it without me reminding him over and over again. I also said that I’m not his mother and he needs to learn to do these things by himself, automaticly, just like I have.

First time I tried to ask him do something for me, and he didn’t, I slept in the other room. I also threw all the dirty laundry on the floor – I’d been waiting for almost two months for him to do them – and gathered all the shit he’d just left lying around in one place (packages, paper, bills, bottles, anything) that I would’ve usually just sorted and recycled as the day went by and I would pass by it. When I woke up, he came to me, careful and pleading, and asked what was wrong. I told him I didn’t accept what he had been doing, how he was acting. I told him he had not made me believe that he cares about my career or respects my work and the work I put in our home. I told him that it felt very wrong to me that he would have a room to himself and just stay there by himself and then shit all over my workplace in the other room and not care at all about my space. He apologised and promised to change his ways. He immediately cleared my work table of his belongings and generally tried to show me that he cared.

The second time I did this he slept in the other room, angry. I reminded him to sweap my office table from the coffee he’d spilt and some other minor things, and since it was late and he was tired, he just blew up at me. This was the point where I told him I wasn’t his mother and that he needs to learn to do these things on his own. Otherwise…

I didn’t actually say the otherwise out loud. But I was so mad at him that I seriously considered leaving him, if things don’t change. I thought that I can’t live my life suffocated by responsibilities like this. That I will become so bitter. And I thought, this was the thought, the big ball of ugly feeling I had in the bottom of my stomach, that I couldn’t have a child with him, if living with only him meant that I had to take care of everything. How would it be with a child? This was not what I wanted. I signed up for an equal relationship. I had done my share. Where was his?

I didn’t have to tell him, how I felt. He could feel it. He knew that this was the last straw. This was it. He’d have to change.

So, when he came back from work after he’d slept in the other room, he immediately, from the door, asked, if there were things he could do. Trash he could take out, laundry he could wash…

It’s been, I think, a little over than a week from the blowout, maybe two. When I spent a night at my dad’s and came back, he had tidied up the whole apartment, taken out trash, sweapt the counters and tables. He has never done anything like it before. He has also done a lot of laundry. I have yet to hear him complain about his duties. He’s been, I think, more loving, if something. He’s been careful and gentle with me. He has felt, how I don’t desire him and he’s tried to make it right. He’s realized, rightly so, that sometimes not wanting sex and not desiring him isn’t something that’s really about sex at all.

And I think that’s why.

I put my hand on his cock yesterday. I felt it grow a little. I kissed him, but he didn’t kiss me back like I wanted. He was still cautious.

I know what I want today, I said.

What? he smiled tentatively.

I took a pause and then licked the air in front of him a bit.

You want me to lick you? he asked.

Yeah, I smiled and buried my head in my hands, then looked up at him and smiled. Yeah, I’d really like that.

If you’re a good girl, he said.

That’s so unfair! How can I know, if I’ve been a good girl or not! I said, laughing.

We’ll see.

When we fucked I was more assertive than ever. I told him I wanted him to lick me. I told him I wanted to be on top of him for him to slap my butt and for me to feel his cock at the same time. He didn’t oblige to me, he made his own decisions. Made me wait. Made me beg. It made us so happy.

When we were through, or so I thought, he went on to start licking me like I’d asked before.

I don’t think I can have another orgasm so quickly, I said and he came back to cuddle me.

I want it to be know that I was ready to do it, though, he said.

Next time I will not give in into the d/s play. He will do as I tell him, right away. I have no patience for waiting anymore. I wanted him to lick me before, not after. This will not do, no matter, how hot it is for me to lick him.

My share can’t be just to obey. It can’t be to carry all the responsibilites and then having no say. It has to be equal in building this relationship. I need my voice back.

Standard
Gender stereotypes, Learning to negotiate, Volatile bodies

Getting Rid Of Your Virginity

Reading Emily Nagoski’s How to break your hymen and the comments has made me think.

I remember the fear very well. I think it’s inside me even now. The fear of being penetrated. The terror of being hurt by something that should be pleasurable.

I remember how hollow I felt after the first time I had sex. I didn’t feel anything. There was nothing there that I enjoyed and there was nothing there in my partner that could understand me – reach me – after the fact. He was just taken aback that I didn’t enjoy it even though he didn’t do much in the way of foreplay or talking for that matter.

This was also reminded to me by Joe, when we talked. He confessed to losing his virginity to a girl at the age of 19 and said it didn’t go well. When I was younger, and even in the not so recent past, I never realized how terrifying it must feel that there’s this very real possibility that you couldn’t perform. That all the sex is dependant on your physical functioning. The other thing I never realized was how frightening it is to be scared of not pleasing your partner.

I remember Wonderboy telling me, how he was scared that he wouldn’t last long enough or couldn’t please his partner.

And I remember the first time I was really worried about getting my partner to come – when I was having sex with a girl. I knealed in the foot of the bed to lick her pussy and suddenly realized, how incredibly intimidating it was that I was about to try to please her. I didn’t know her! She could be totally different from me! She did come and I was washed over with relief. I got to experience what it feels like to have to perform in a different way than I’d experienced in the past – not as the sexual object but as the perfomer. I also got to experience, how it feels that your orgasm is taken for granted. She hardly touched me, and although it was fun and I came, I felt like I’d been used to perform the whole sex.

Now, with my experiences in mind, I could totally relate to Joe’s story about his total inability to perform, when it was his first time. And he carried this knowledge of himself as the failure with him to this day. But when he met this woman again last summer, he decided to face her and tell how he felt. As he did tell her it had been his first time, that he’d been nervious and frightened, the woman started to cry. She had blamed herself for ruining everything. She had blamed herself for being no good at sex.

What good did it do for Joe to keep quiet about his virginity? He failed miserably, because of the incredible stress – and also I think because of the lie. He needed to try to keep pretending, because she didn’t know. So they both suffered.

Wonderboy didn’t tell me he was a virgin, either. I suspect I’ve slept with one virgin before him, and I didn’t know about that either. My first partner knew full well that I had no experiences. I was 15, he was 27. I wasn’t at all ashamed, but I can imagine the shame building up. I wanted to get rid of my virginity and I was only 15. What about at 19… or 23?

I wish I’d known about Wonderboy. I could’ve taken him into consideration. I could’ve been more communicative, more gentle, more compassionate. But I didn’t know to be. There was still something magical there when we met. His touch was like a flame on my skin. He found me, he felt me and he heard me. It was something I’d never felt with a man before. That hasn’t changed. His touch made me suspect that he’d actually had loads of experiences. I thought he’d had a girlfriend who had trained him.

When I found out, I almost didn’t believe him at first. I couldn’t believe he would just be so attuned with his body, with touching mine, if he’d never done it before. After the first few times, after confessing he’d been a virgin, he started to have problems with keeping an erection. It’s clear to me now, as it was then, that this was emotional. Sex is not some separate thing our bodies perform. This was a thing I argued with Joe about. He was telling me, with different anecdotes about his life, his cheating on The One True Love, his 3 year celibacy that followed, with now paying Thai girls to like him, how incredibly hurt he’d been. And he still couldn’t accept that the problems he was having with sex were most likely because he was emotionally so broken.

There are things, hurtful things, that we believe about the world. One of them is that not having sexual experiences is a bad thing. One of them is that we think there are certain ways we need to perform and certain acts we need to do for sex to be real somehow. And one of them is that we can separate our body from our soul. This is where sex starts to mean performing and not playing, finding out, exploring and experiencing connection. We wouldn’t want to hug a stranger or possibly wouldn’t be very compassionate about their troubles. Why would sex be any different? Why do we expect our bodies to function in a situation where they never naturally would?

I feel so sad about my first time, about Wonderboy’s lack of trust in me the first time and about Joe’s experience the first time. And I know the only thing that could’ve changed everything… is communicating. But we just didn’t have the courage and the ability then. I hope we do now.

Our bodies remember everything we’ve ever felt. Every little stab, kick, trauma or loving embrace. There’s no way to override yourself. And that’s what your history is. A part of yourself.

Standard
BDSM, Gender stereotypes, Learning to negotiate, Male Lead Relationship stuff, Outside the Bedroom, Self-Questioning, Wonderboy

Feelings of Unfairness In a D/s Setting

This is an answer to Feminist Sub.

Your blog makes me think a lot about the issue of fairness and relationships. I was raised with a very strong sense of fairness ad justice, which I think is good for the world as a whole but not always so great for relationships. I used to think that this was especially thorny for me as a sub, since a lot of power play is *based* on scenarios that *seem* unfair. But actually, I think the issue of fairness can be hell on any relationship.

And I see a lot of subs who *feel* that their relationships are unfair, but justify it by saying “well, that’s just how it is because s/he’s the boss.” And while it seems like some people legitimately get off on or are at least ok with the unfairness, it seems like a lot just push that feeling down, and that’s not healthy either.

Me too. And we are equal and most of the time things are fair. I guess regarding sex the unfairness comes mostly from me not enjoying the things I usually do. If I don’t get off on giving head and being forced to do it, it really just seems unfair. It makes me angry. This is not something I can just brush aside or would even consider brushing aside. My enjoyment has to be on the agenda all the time, not just when it perfectly suits this dynamic and especially Wonderboy’s desires.

But the problem is, among others, that I don’t want to confess not enjoying something I usually do. I’ll go out of my way to try to enjoy it. I’m trying to convince myself. I don’t know what kind of a situation we’d fall into, if I’d say that for example today or this week I’m really not having fond feelings about licking your cock. I know he enjoys it immensely, but what if that just makes me angry, because I didn’t want to do it in the first place and I’m having trouble enjoying (anything) so why does he get to get off?

See? There’s no nice way to point out that you get angry at giving pleasure to your partner. Where would that go?

I’ve had trouble especially with expressing my discomfort and my desires, because of this dynamic. It’s been hard to pinpoint where the d/s ends and where I just suffer. Reminds me of the post Scared and Broken by Subversive Sub, which I still totally relate to. What she found out was that there are wants that don’t affect her badly when the scene or sex is over if they weren’t met, they are just the manifestation of the d/s. But then there are also NEEDS. Needs have to be met. I have spent a lot of time pondering this and studying my responses to find out which is which.

Obviously this is something Wonderboy can’t really take part in or even notice. Which makes me angry, because I expect him to solve everything in the end. It’s his role to make the decisions, but I have to give him all the information he needs to do that. I haven’t been able to give him everything he needs to make the right decisions. So, he’s trying his best and I’m angry, because I’m not happy.

He is very pragmatic, which is proven by him introducing the pillow just now, and he always strives to solve matters right away. I see now, maybe for the first time, that he is not as much of a talker. I sometimes confuse him profoundly, when I try to have a conversation about what I am and have been feeling during sex. He ends up shutting down, because what I feel is just honestly describing my experience is to him usually pretty insulting and scary. He can’t handle the fact that at some point I wasn’t enjoying myself, or I hurt too much and I didn’t stop everything. He always just expects me to be able to communicate it straight away.

But there are so many things affecting the situation. I probably have been enjoying myself and it’s not clear if I still could or couldn’t. I often don’t find words that wouldn’t insult him and so I don’t say anything, just try convey my discomfort through movement and sounds. Ouch is pretty usual and he can either use it for his benefit (yeah, this is meant to hurt) or not in which case it just isn’t good at all. A lot of times I have trouble voicing my discomfort, because I’m thinking of his pleasure first. This is the thing that hit me in Clarisses article about orgasm(less) and this is the thing I think we women are coerced to by the society. He’s too fragile, his manly ego wouldn’t be able to handle not being the stud he think he is and so on.

When I know this is one of his favourite things, how can I just say that this is something I fidn utterly lacking. Not even just now, but pretty much always. What makes matters complicated is that I have voiced these concerns in the past, when I’ve had a rough time. It’s just that when I’m at my peak enjoyment and arousal period and everything’s well, I don’t care if I don’t enjoy that certain thing. Because I know I’ll get off anyway. Now that is shot to shit, I start to feel the pressure more. Why am I being forced to positions and acts I dislike? Seems like a dick move. But he’s been getting enough of a positive feedback for a period of time, that he doesn’t understand that all and all what I said about not enjoying it that much was the truth. Even though I’ve sometimes seemed to enjoy it. And of course, because humans are tricky beings, I sometimes did get off on the unfairness of it. But the fact seems to be that he can actually never tell, if I’m ejoying something or not, because it changes so drastically over time. He just needs to listen to me. And I need to say it.

But how?

Agh. And I really don’t like unfairness in our every day life and now I’m having trouble with WB ordering me around more. I like it, it arouses me and at the same time I could see him turning into a man I’d detest, if he’d consider himself always the one who decides about everything. Like yesterday when I said I wanted to play computer games (I didn’t really, I was just baiting him) when I knew he was going to and he jumped on the computer and then jumped on me saying things like You really think you have a say on this? and then grabbing my hair and spanking my ass all the while coercing me to say that I didn’t want to play, so that he could. It was fun and since I didn’t really want to play it was okay to be subjucated… But if I had wanted to play? No, I couldn’t accept it.

I think that I maybe don’t so much enjoy getting treated unfairly. I strive to be fair and just in my decisions and actions. I’ll give Wonderboy the bigger slice of a cake, because he’s bigger and I’ll share the wine evenly even if I want more. I’ll help him by going to the store, when it’s his turn, if he’s sick and I expet him to do the same for me. But I won’t be ordered to do things for him that were his duties or would then put me in a unfair place. My desire to be ordered is to be ordered to do things that are good for me or just plain need doing. Him using his power can’t be him evading duties at the same time. Doesn’t work like that, not with me.

So, I guess I should go and tell him that.

Standard
BDSM, Coming out, Feminist musings, Gender stereotypes, Hyper-Sexual, Volatile bodies, What Women Really Want

Orgasm And The Way Gender Performance Screwed It Up For Us

It’s so long ago it seems like a dream, but there was a time, when I thought I just couldn’t orgasm from sex (of any kind). The men I had sex with had no idea how to pleasure me and most of them hardly tried. It didn’t matter though, because the most important ingredient was missing – BDSM. Clarisse Thorn has written an honest and brutal account of not being able to achieve orgasm, ever, and how it’s affected her, her relationships and her view of the world. She also writes a lot about the reasons behind it, and most of them seem to be entwinded with performing our gender and sexuality as expected.

She has an excellent list of study questions that I’m about to dig in to, because there was once a time I had serious discussions with my friend about possibly not being able to achieve orgasm, ever, during intercourse or even with another person. Because I really didn’t know they could not be the same thing. I was able to reach orgasm by myself, so I had a pretty good idea what worked for me. I just wasn’t able to communicate any of that and kept trying to fill my role as the Woman in the heterosexual equation. My experiences with women, on the other hand, were orgasmic abound, but I didn’t connect that with sexuality for a long time, because there was no intercourse and it was so forbidden to be drawn to the same sex I had to repress all of it.

1) What questions do you have about your orgasm?

It’s funny. I’m known as the orgasm machine around my friends and family. Just because, I guess, I can orgasm from intercourse alone. I can pretty much orgasm from anything that fulfills some kink of mine or is used in a play that does: ass fuck, biting my ear or my neck, slapping my face or my butt etc. Sometimes.

But other times.

My problem is that sometimes the orgasm I have from not clitoral stimulation are mind blowing and satisfactory. Other times they aren’t as much. My partner really can’t tell the difference, if I don’t voice it. I usually don’t. And here’s why: It seems too arbitrary. Why am I suddenly just going through the motions, but not feeling satisfaction? I mean my body builds to an orgasm and eases up straight after just like any other time. The difference is really, if nothing more, emotional.

When I pleasure myself I always mostly play with my clitoris. It’s pretty straightforward, just a little movement of finger or a vibrator jammed up there against my clit and my fallback fantasies of men and their stepdaughters or sons in the air of non-consent. I just never felt comfortable doing my clit teasing with men. It wasn’t expected, I was supposed to have enough without it, and once when I tried I was being chastised for making them feel inadequate.

It used to be really unclear to me what makes me orgasm during sex with others. I did, but I didn’t understand it, because it didn’t seem to involve straight clitoral stimulation, quite to the contrary. I don’t want and can’t take clitoral stimulation (via hand) when I’m fucking someone. It just doesn’t feel good. This didn’t fit any script I had about sexuality. How could it suddenly be not pleasurable?

I used to fantasize a lot. Without it it was impossible for me to orgasm. With Wonderboy I’ve learned that I don’t have to fantasize, (all the time) because we can step over the fantasy and make it more real by installing some sort of d/s roles. I’m still not sure about the effects pain has on my pleasure. This is a thing I’ve just started to discover. I’ve also been discovering how I react to domestic submission and possibly even male lead relationship model and how they give me pleasure, but also make me happier in my relationship with Wonderboy and strangely with other people too.

1a) Where have you researched the answers to those questions?

I’d say the wrong places. A popular trope is to say that women in particular are not as sexual as men and aren’t able to orgasm from intercourse alone. And that’s fine! I’ve turned myself over to pinpoint what happens in my body and to understand is it really vaginal orgasm or a clitoral one. I don’t care anymore. I’m pretty sure my orgasmic ability is going to be none the better for the possible answers. But I’ve read a lot which has hurt me. I’m looking at you, Freud.

One of my big worries used to be the fact that I sometimes squirt. Is it pee? Where does it come from? How can I explain it and stop it? It doesn’t help that it’s seen as a “money shot” created by the porn industry and featuring only water or pee for the sex crazed male masses. I’ve seen and read countless medical health care specialist attest to the fact that it’s not real. I’ve also been attacked by friends and allies alike for stating that some women actually are able to produce a flow like that and it’s perfectly healthy. Researching this fact via the internet (articles, others’ experiences, researches) helped me a lot at accepting this bodily function that I can neither help or force to happen.

1b) Have you ever discussed those questions with your partners?

To some extent, yes. Squirting I commented on the first time we fucked, because Wonderboy made a remark on me “wetting the bed” or something. I said “It’s not pee, you know” and he answered “I know, I saw this documentary about it”. In the same lines I’d say that easily accessable information has been a tremendous help for me. As have been the real life stories of others. By this I mean mostly personal blogs. We’ve been discussing, negotiating and dissecting (oh yeah) the issue of BDSM and our roles in regards to it and to each other the whole time we’ve been together. It’s getting easier, because I’m less worried and repressing about it and more open about communicating what I think I feel and think I want even when I’m not sure. Because with this it’s pretty hard to be sure even half the time.

Also, Wonderboy had this habit of asking me did I come after sex and rectified the issue, if the answer was no. Nowadays he just asks, if I had fun, because really, that’s enough, if I don’t insist on an orgasm. But I usually do.

2) What questions do you have about your partners’ orgasms?

It’s been hard for me to accept that even a man can’t have orgasms all the time. Wonderboy is clearly the more orgasmicly challenged of us, but this only means that he is prone to be more exhausted and that takes away his ability to go over the edge. I’m much better at handling that now, but the first years I drove myself crazy trying to pleasure him when the game was lost and just made him feel inadequate too. I’m also very interested in the ways kink plays into his pleasure and arousal and orgasming and have discussed it in detail with him. I can usually get an orgasm out of him by trics of that well, if he’s at all able to come.

2a) Have you ever asked your partners about their orgasms?

Yes. I’m really curious and even slightly obsessive about them.

3) What’s one thing you wish you’d said in bed to a partner?

I don’t want this now.

(Edit. This might not be sex itself, but something they are doing to me or initiating.)

3a) What would have made it easier to say it?

Thinking that I matter too, not just his pleasure, insecurities and needs.

4) What are your favorite sexual acts? Are there other ways you could perform them?

I don’t know about performing them differently. My favorite sexual act is intercourse where I am forced to move in a certain way, overpowered, suffocated, forcefully handled, dominated and hurt at the same time. I also really need there to be a back story, d/s roles, not just blatant giving and receiving pain. My favourite type of play is daddy and his little girl. Edit. And playing a prostitute who gets raped. And now that I think about it rape play and non-consent of any kind. I also love orgasm control scenarios of any kind on either one. And I love giving head, especially when I don’t feel obliged to do it and forced to but guided or ordered to. I love pain play and spanking also. There’ a lot of stuff he that can be done in a myriad ways and I feel I only know a small fragment of them. So, I think there’s lot to explore.

5) What’s the best sexual experience you remember? What made it great?

Ummm. This is a hard one. It’s actually this one rape scenario where Wonderboy also raped my ass with his fingers at the same time. I remember it as one of the most meaningful and intense sexual experiences of my life. But at the time it hurt me and broke me, because it reminded me too much about my very real rape experience that I hadn’t yet gotten over of.

6) What’s the hottest thing you’ve seen or read? What made it great and are there ways you could participate?

7) Does anything from this article resonate with you? What?

A lot, actually, which took me by surprise. The need to appease your partner and not be to demanding lest you be a bitch. The thoughts of what constitutes sex and how poorly that overlapped with what I needed out of my sexuality. Repressing kinkiness and suffering from it through sexuality but also through self-doubt, identity crisis and relationship difficulties that couldn’t be attoned. It’s important you speak up, and I feel it’s important that I speak up too. These experiences did not happen in a vacuum, and the way our stories entwine, I’d say our views of male and female sexuality hurt us more than should be expected. Which is not the fault of any particular male, although I think I have had worse luck than Clarisse when it comes to emotionally disabled men with no ability to discuss or take my pleasure into consideration. Being sexual with them certainly didn’t help my self-discovery, which really only kicked into gear after I met Wonderboy, who used to be more interested in my pleasure than his own. And who was ready to discuss and change things as we go along.

Standard