We watched two videos last night. Both were sent by a dear friend who suddenly began to enjoy squirting orgasms in her 40s. Both videos were on achieving the vaginal orgasm.
My intention was for us to make love afterwards with a few more pussy tricks in mind, but that’s not what happened, folks. A knock down drag out emotional argument ensued instead complete with crying, frustration, passive aggression and stonewalling.
The reason was simple. I wanted him to understand what was happening with me on a very deep level, ways I have sabotaged my sexual pleasure in past relationships and how it affects me today. I wanted him to see my pain and feel my yearning and hear my cry for help.
What he heard was he isn’t good enough. He’s not a good enough lover, he’s not a good enough husband, he’s not a good enough provider. He’s not enough. The killer phrase that stuck out the most was when he said, “I feel like my days are numbered, Stella. You’ll be cheating on me in the next five years.”
Wait, what?
It’s hard to communicate a deeper sense of invisibility when the person you are talking to can’t see past themselves in each moment. At some point I took a breath and calmly said, “And this, dear, is exactly why I feel invisible. You can’t empathize with me because you only care about what my truth means about you. It’s not about you. It’s about me.”
In our argument, he reminded me over and over again that the reason we focus on clitoral orgasms for me is because that’s what I said worked. “You taught me how to fuck you, Stella. You were very matter-a-fact about it in the beginning.” Years ago he attempted to help me achieve the squirting orgasm. He read articles and watched videos and tried the various techniques, but nothing worked. “It was like you didn’t believe you could so you didn’t try, you didn’t open up to me,” he said.
“I felt pressured, like it had to work. I felt like I needed to squirt so you could feel manly or something. It didn’t feel like it was about discovering my body at all. Instead I felt you were trying to find your squirty ex-girlfriend in me.”
“Well, my girlfriend who did squirt many many many times with me gave herself to me like a blank slate. She didn’t tell me how to pleasure her, she allowed me to prove to her I would figure it out. And I did.”
It was so profound and sad. Like so many women, I don’t know how to do that, really. I guess I figured out at some point that I wasn’t worth the exploration. Maybe I didn’t believe there was anything more to discover. I knew I could cum one way and didn’t want to be boring in bed, I didn’t want to make my partner feel like he couldn’t bring me to a climax. I cared more about his pride than my pleasure.
“I had the hardest time in the beginning believing that you really were cumming, Stella, because it wasn’t like most women,” he finally admitted. “But after awhile of doing it and with your continued support of it, I settled with it.”
“And we have a great sex life, babe.”
He didn’t agree. At some point he left the room. I cried, not for us but for my silly desire to have a more enjoyable orgasm. It isn’t worth all of this strife, it just isn’t. I love my husband and want our marriage to be as it was before. Hopefully we can get there sooner rather than later.
I closed my eyes and prayed to go back to the forest, the lush, green, dense forest from my dreams the night before. I wanted to feel seen again. I wanted to feel heard and loved. I wanted the rush of excitement from the cool air in my hair and the thrill of adventure.
I thought of my husband crawling back into our bed and thrusting his arms around me. His body is always so warm and intoxicating. I’d love to feel his acceptance and deep protection as opposed to his cold frustration. I’d love to feel cherished and adored.
My eyes were heavy and my mind was drifting when the door opened again and he reappeared in our room. Without a word, he lifted the comforter and cuddled up behind my naked body under the sheet. We formed our puzzle piece position and I thanked God for the sweetness of forgiveness, redemption, and letting go. I don’t know what’s going to happen and I can’t control it either. I was like a limp wash cloth, wet from tears and used to the point of exhaustion.
“I’m sorry, Stella,” he whispered in my ear.
“I’m sorry, too,” I whispered back pulling his hand into my chest more. I needed him in every way.
Moments later he pried himself from my grip and slid down my body to my pussy under the covers. After all that, is he really going to try this? The answer was yes!
I gave up everything in that moment, everything. I gave the reigns to him fully. If he needs me to surrender, I will. I have no other choice. My body is his. I decided then that it wasn’t my job to make myself cum anymore. And I meant it from a different place in my heart. It wasn’t about my clit, no, it was about my fear. I’m good enough, I’m pretty enough, I’m sexy enough, let down the shade and open yourself up to him, let him love you the best way he can. Receive, Stella, it’s okay to receive.
First it was his lips and tongue and then a finger slid inside. It felt good, heavenly almost. I was completely relaxed. I’m along for the ride. I have nothing to prove. I don’t need to worry about his pride. Just feel the pleasures and tell him your truth.
He mounted me with his hard body and yummy dick and pushed himself slowly to the bottom of my sea then stopped, let out his anchor and rocked there. He pulsed up and down and the all around sensation was even better.
My legs opened more, my heart opened more too. There were a few times I felt my natural urge to force a particular outcome, but I did my best to stop it and drop back down into my pleasure pot. Just feel, Stella.
We were making love, for real. His arms wrapped my body and his lips passionately kissed mine. “You feel so fucking amazing, my queen. Oh my God. I love your pussy, your body. I love you, all of you.” He whispered into my ear nibbling a little on the way out.
His voice was slow and steady, so were his movements. I felt like his prey as he teased my pussy more, circling my clit with his tongue and thrusting his fingers back inside of me.
“How does that feel?” he asked sweetly, like he really wanted to know.
“Mmmm, it’s ok. Can you move your fingers all around so I can see what feels the best?”
“Of course.” And he did.
When he rubbed the bottom of my pussy deep on the back instead of the front, I felt a rush of excitement. It’s a bit different than what the videos said to do, but it was something. He played there for awhile licking my clit and the skin all around the outside of my pussy at the same time.
He turned me over and made love to me from behind flicking my pussy with his steady slippery dick. I think he held the tip of his dick with his hand and mixed it all around my juices dipping into me just a little as he played. Let go, Stella, I kept saying, just feel. You have nothing to accomplish here.
Then I ended up on top rocking his body like a freight train, but in a slow dramatic way ebbing and flowing my pussy up and down his shaft while watching his face in the light from the moon. He’s the most handsome man in the world. “I love you,” I said melting into him. Deep inside of me, I felt the love too.
“Oh, Stella, I love you too, so much,” he moaned. “I’m going to put my cum right there.”
His words created a serious tingle in my body. She opened more. I let go more. I wasn’t feeling a climax at all, but my pussy was getting a fantastic deep tissue massage, with peeks and surprises around every corner.
I’m boring to him, I worried suddenly. I should hurry up and cum. No, stop that! No, tell him. Show yourself to him. So I did. “I feel boring. I feel like I’m no fun. I feel you’re going to fall asleep if I don’t cum soon.”
“Oh Stella, I’m having the most fun making love to you. I could do this all night long, all night long. I want you to cum, but mostly I want you to enjoy it,” he replied.
His truth helped me relax for awhile. We tried a few other positions and took our time playing with various strokes and caresses. Standing on the side of the bed, my husband entered me as I laid on the bed with my legs open. “Here, put your legs on my shoulders,” he said sweetly as he lifted me up, grabbed a pillow, placed it under my butt and delicately released me down.
He was a different man altogether. He was taking charge put also asking me how things felt and responding quickly to both my delights and my pains. And he was gentle, even as he pushed down on the top of my lower abdomen and rode his dick deep inside and tapped on the bottom of my pussy hundreds of times.
The control Stella couldn’t help herself, she wanted an orgasm so badly, though. “Can you get on top again and spread my legs? That feels the best to me.”
“Sure,” he said switching my body around.
He took awhile to enter me again, using the tease time to lick my clit and finger my opening. Relax, I kept telling myself, open up and feel. Feel his gift, his love. It’s right there.
When he finally mounted me, we’d come full circle. We’d been making love at least three hours at this point and we were both running out of energy, me probably more than him. Scratch that, maybe it was only just me, because he took my body into a full frenzy pounding my pussy with such ferocity that I was breathless and feeling orgasmic musings without the intensity.
He grabbed my legs and parted them completely grinding his body on mine. The sensations rose and fell like the tide leaving me one moment feeling hopeful and the next feeling like a failure. Finally it all came out.
“I feel like I’m broken,” I whimpered first then repeated with more emotion. “I feel broken.”
“Broken? Babe, please, you’re not broken.”
He appropriately halted his course and turned me over to lick my pussy, but it was too late. The flood gates had opened. Tears fell down my face and onto the sheets. It was dark enough that he couldn’t see them, but when he heard my sniffle, he came up to rescue me.
“Oh, Stella,” he said cradling my body into his.
“I’m broken,” I wailed.
And then he said the most thoughtful, sensitive, supportive, loving thing he’s ever said to me.
“Let it all out, my love, let it all out.” He ever so gently kissed my neck and pushed my hair back from my face. “Maybe this is what you need to release.”
I nodded and cried some more. I’ve never been here before. He sees me, and I’m allowing myself to be seen.
He slid his dick back inside of me from this position then asked, “Is this okay, Stella? Or should we stop?”
“No, it feels good. It feels right.” I pulled his hand even tighter.
But my body was done. She’d been through a lot these last few weeks and she had no more to give and no more to receive.
“Actually,” I said after a few moments, “I think I need to go to sleep.”
“Ok, my queen. I love you. Thank you for such a terrific night. I want to make love to you like this forever.”