Sex, when everything “works” is fantastic. Sadly however, even when the mind is willing, our bodies can let us down. Stress, tiredness, illness, having the cat jump on the bed as you are approaching climax (or is that one just me?) can all sometimes cause things to go awry and for the best and naughtiest of intentions to fall short of where we wanted them to take us.
So, this week, what we want to know is:
Have you had an experience where either you, or your partner just weren’t able to “follow through” with the mood? Is it something that happens regularly
How did you feel at the time?
How do you manage these situations? Are you ever able to get back “in the swing”? If so how?
When I was reading this prompt last friday I was at a loss about what to write. Could I have written about the many times my children have woken up as I am on the edge of an orgasm? Of course I could, however I love my children and parenting comes before pleasure… always. Plus, there is a sick and twisted part inside of me that loves the denied orgasm. Not indefinitely, but edging is a powerful kink for me. And I will take orgasm control any way I can get it.
With that in mind I thought it would be a good idea to lave the prompt alone for this week. But reading Twisted Bubbles’ post Dirty two sentences stood out for me and got me thinking.
“I am a person who needs the other person involved, some way. While I have an amazing imagination it just isn’t enough for me.”
I spent my marriage having one orgasm a month, maybe. When I first met Sir I said that was about my limit. Since exploring this further I have discovered the amazing ability my body has to cum repeatedly, to gush, to pulse. The variety of orgasms too, my mind was blown fairly early on. Acceptance of my body was not a given but my appreciation of it was never in doubt once it started revealing its secrets.
Imagine my disappointment when it.
It was around the time I was at my lowest point, while I was rebuilding my confidence post P. Single by choice, no play partners (other than myself) and all of a sudden my ability to orgasm tailed off. I still had the sexual desire, but I had no ummmffff behind my self-love. The peaks seemed to disappear and I was left with a comfort in my own low libido. I would waver between “Oh that feels nice, but that will do” to bouts of sheer frustration at my total inability to climax. Tears and despair. Would I ever reach the heady heights again? The techniques I had learnt for forcing orgasms out of myself were not working. My toys felt good, but didn’t get me off, no matter how much abuse I gave myself, or how much rest I allowed between attempts.
It was some deep reflection that led me to peace with my situation.
I knew that toys got me off usually, whether in my hands or a lovers. I knew that a skilled sexual partner would have no problem dragging moans from my lips. The smell of a man, the sound of his voice, the touch of his skin. All of the above combined to create a full picture of what was missing. Not just that though, I missed the cerebral side of Ds. Someone sliding into my skull and nestling in amongst the grey matter. Without a dark and twisted man stimulating my most sensitive erogenous zone my libido had gone into hibernation.
I had heard about the way kinks ebb and flow as we travel our deviant paths.
While I took some time to rebuild my emotional self, my subconscious seemed to understand that it was not kink but peace that I needed. Some time to settle down and relax into a new life, a bright new world instead of burying my head in the sand. Or, perhaps more appropriately, burying my rubber cock in my ass! When I was ready those channels of self-love and affirmation would open up again, I just needed some patience.
Over the months that followed I started to regain my sexuality.
I started to meet new men on fabswingers and began to enjoy their company. The smells I had been missing, and the feel of a man rather than a rubber cock, set the fuses burning again. It was only a matter of time before I was ready to explode. The lingering scent on my sheets, an aching and well used pussy and my Doxy gave me all of the ammunition I needed to regain my confidence. I still have the ebb and flow that I believe we all have, but my dry spells are shorter and further between.