I think for the first time in a long time I am being haunted by the memories of a lover. For a long time, I have thought that something was wrong with me. I have thought that I may have incurred an incurable disease that makes me unable to feel pleasure. I could achieve it on my own but not in the presence of another. I thought love had to be present in order for me to feel something, but I was proved wrong when I fell in love and still could not be pleasured. I had lost hope, although not completely, that I could never be pleasured. So, I gave up and resigned myself to pleasing others. At least if I could not receive pleasure, I might as well give it.
I got good at it too. Pleasuring others made me realise certain things though. The power that comes from the complete surrender of a lover is an intoxicating feeling. Watching their face in ecstasy, listening to their sounds of pleasure caused by what you are doing to them. Them the consuming explosive sight of them coming apart before you. My my that feeling of power and satisfaction of a job well done cannot be over emphasized. I relished that feeling of giving. I understand the awe of it, it has made me more focused in wondering the lover’s body. Wanting to know how to bring them to their knees with beautiful pleasure. I do love to bring pleasure, but I miss receiving it,
Make no assumption that the people I have been with are selfish. They aren’t. They want to bring me pleasure and sometimes I let them, but I have always been left wanting. It’s not even about the climax, it’s about feeling the pleasure of being touched. I haven’t felt that in a really long while. I could attest to my lost libido as a biological plight, but it wasn’t always this way. Throughout my teenage years I enjoyed being touched. I craved it as badly as any other horny hormonal teenager. And when the situations presented themselves, I relished it. The pleasure of being wanted, the passion of being desired. Truly addictive.
Before I was touched my body was already on fire, knowing that eventually it would happen. When it happened, it was amazing. It wasn’t about the climax, even if it never happened. It was just about the pleasures of the moment. How good the kisses were. How blissful the neck kisses and bites felt. How satisfying it felt to be caressed all over, to have my boobs sucked and played with. To have kisses and licks scattered all over my body. Then the overwhelming feeling of having my legs spread apart and a head buried between them causing so much pleasure. The high of all that pleasure, all that wanting suddenly vanishing without cause or reason was very concerning.
I wondered what might have happened to me. I was circumstantially abstinent for a long while, was that the issue? During my leave I discovered self-pleasure which I was very much against. I didn’t care if other people did it. I just wanted no part in it. Then one day, one very horny day I did what I never thought I’d do. I put my hand between my thighs, beneath my panties and touched the forbidden fruit. It was oh so pleasurable. I did it until I experienced my very first orgasm. It was so mind blowing I had to do it again. I did it severally for the next couple days until the gaps between them increased. The feeling was so euphoric it made me understand the saying ‘never say never’
Having an orgasm had never crossed my mind until that day. I’d never really thought about the female orgasm before. But that experience opened my eyes to the world I’ve never known. This was before everything went downhill. Fortunately for me I hardly ever get addicted to things, if not, with the multiple times I pleasured myself, it would have definitely become an addiction. Thankfully it didn’t. anyways the circumstantial abstinence was eradicated, and I was free to go crazy. My first interaction was less than satisfactory. I attributed it to his inexperience or limited experience. Then the experienced came and I was just disgusted. I attributed my unsatisfactory experience to the fact that I wasn’t attracted to him.
Then I feel in love and thought maybe, just maybe this was the issue, and this time would be different. I loved him, I was attracted to him, and he was experienced. Boy was I wrong. After the interactions with him I realized my problem was much bigger than I thought. Again, I didn’t have any traumatic experience prior to my libido leaving me so there was no way to explain what was going on. Why didn’t being intimate feel as good as it use to? Why don’t I feel as much pleasure or any pleasure? Why does my mind wonder during intimate moments? Why do I feel less aroused than I used to? Why do I disassociate in those moments?
I actually make effort to be present and in the moment with a lover, but it doesn’t work. My mind is either not there at all or leaves me halfway. My body responds, which is why I assume they don’t notice anything being off. But then I feel aroused and then I lose it. I’m in the moment being stimulated then all of a sudden, I’m completely turned off. Sometimes it comes and goes and comes back again. It goes off and on like a light switch repeatedly in the moment, other times I’m turned on then not, I completely lose interest and nothing I do or they do can bring me back. None of them knew about my predicament and they still don’t. It wasn’t their fault I wasn’t satisfied; it was mine.
Why didn’t I say anything? Because men are fragile even if they like to act like they are not. Imagine telling a man that he isn’t satisfying you while during the process. Then the ones that care ask how they can please you and what they are doing wrong but you don’t have an answer to give. In the moment I do ask for adjustments and things, but it doesn’t help. Touch me like this, kiss me like that or other times I function on action, putting them where I want them to be, but still nothing. At this point I had tried what I could. Self-pleasure was doing what I needed it to so I’ll just keep doing that. It wasn’t what I wanted but it’s what I had.
Then I had an idea. If they cannot please me, what stops me from pleasing them? I’ve always been a selfish lover I guess it was time to change that. I learned so much and I did so much. I discovered the pleasure in satisfying others. It was truly remarkable, and I’ve gotten better at it. Now I don’t let them touch me, I touch them instead. And they thoroughly enjoy it based on the looks on their face, the sounds they make, how they pull me closer to encourage the movement, the most obvious is their climax. I did that! I made him so hard he couldn’t help himself. I brought him so much pleasure he came apart before me. My touch, my lips, my body and my presence. An addictive feeling I’d say.
Recently I went through a conundrum. Self-pleasure became unsatisfactory. I would cum mostly because I wouldn’t stop until I did, but the whole thing was forced. It felt like a punishment. I was aroused but I’d lose interest but still keep going because I’d already started. And the climax was so disappointing I decided to go longer without self-pleasure. Still the next time I tried I was met with the same results. Disappointing forced orgasms. At this point toys came to mind, but if the toys didn’t work would that mean all hope is lost? I didn’t want to take the risk. Didn’t want to feel like a lost cause. So I counted my losses until everything changed when he touched me.
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