A Dry Spell

Something’s happened to me. I don’t know what it is, but I suspect astronomical forces are at work; planets have aligned, secret conglomerates have met, and something is very definitely in my water. I seem to have hit 32, and become an 18 year old boy.

An outbreak of spots, increase in appetite, unwillingness to get out of bed, and the kind of sex drive that can move mountains has hit me. Sex. Sex. Sex. It’s all I can think about. Sex. Sex. Sex.

Is it reaching the ‘dirty-thirties’? Is it some slight twist in medication (I’m on The Pill, god knows that can do crazy things to you)? Is it magnetic forces and leylines? Is it just going from a daily life of it to just talking about it? God knows, but it’s right there – everytime I close my eyes there’s a new position, a new cock, a new fantasy rearing it’s head at me and inviting me into it’s soft, moist, welcoming embrace….forcing me to loose at least 5 minutes of the Eastenders plot line.

I wouldn’t mind, but finding men to have sex with is hard.

I’ve been trying for a while – I want nice, sober, friendly sex. Not drunken fumblings – which is about the best I’m getting – but good quality, exploratory, do-it-in-the-day sexual contact. It’s just not happening for me. And hasn’t been happening for a while.

And before you say it, no I cannot have sex anytime I want to Just Because I’m A Woman. It doesn’t work like that. Men, too, can have sex anytime they want to, we all can. But it means a) lowering your standards or b) paying for it. Sometimes men do both, just because it’s cheap. And that’s where they end up moaning about it on review sites.

And the few times I’ve found a willing participant, things just haven’t gone to plan. And that’s what I’m going to be discussing today kids. This isn’t a bemoaning of my dry, bereft sex life. This is calling to attention something that I’ve wanted to write about for a while, wanted to ask advice about but have been too scared because I’ve come to the conclusion that it’s my fault.

But there it is, reassuringly there on google predict to show I’m not alone.

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(No, not men who can’t love. Men can love, they just don’t love you. If you need to ask google about love, then you have way more problems than that. Now get out of that relationship and find the man you’re supposed to be with. Run. Go. Christ, even getting a cat and a mild drinking problem must be better than asking google why men can’t love!)

I mean the second one down. Men who can’t ejaculate.

Because…that’s unheard of, right? Men are supposed to be the ones coming left, right and centre! That’s what sex is all about, isn’t it? Just a brief moment before they spunk their load! In fact, the common thing is cumming too quickly! So not coming at all? Pfft!! There’s something wrong there!

And that’s what I thought. But I thought the Something Wrong was me. It’s happened to me with the last 3 guys I slept with…there, I said it.

 Three. All three just couldn’t give the money shot.

With number 1 we could talk about it, we figured out why, and found solutions. Number 2 I couldn’t figure out, he was so totally different to number 1, and when it happened to no. 3, I started realising the only common denominator in all this is yours truely. Now that, that is a real bummer of a conclusion. So much so that I’m at the point where – if it happens again – I’m just going to burst out crying. I’ll cry, whilst sewing up my defective vagina.

Although I’ve been wanting to talk about it for a while, I didn’t want to blog about it for many reasons. Mainly because I worried something was wrong with me, but also I think the men I’ve had this kind of encounter with might dip into the blog. If so, I want them to know I’m not writing about them, I’m writing about me, my experiences with it and how I feel inadequate, and I’m trying to help other people who may be feeling the same.

So let’s look at the reasons why this might be happening, because I hope – I really hope – that if this is happening to anyone out there, they can find some kind of solice, or advice, or just the realisation they’re not alone. Because even after escorting for 7 years and never leaving anyone unsatisfied, I still can’t help but think –

1. It’s not you. It’s me.

I have to thank AskMen for their honesty. Sometimes, a guy just doesn’t like you. Just because you’re willing, it doesn’t mean they’re totally on board. It would be easy to bitch and moan that they’re being mean, but they’re not. They’re being frank. But it’s so easy to jump to this conclusion. For a woman it would be our number one hit which is why no-one talks about it. Is it different for a man? Can it be spun into a prowess thing? ‘Aww yeah, I can go for hours!’

As a woman, I feel the absolute pits. I feel defective. I feel like I’m at fault. What happened between us smooching with our clothes on and full-on naked penetration that has left you not-so-keen? Is it my body? My face? Oh god! It’s my cum-face isn’t it?! Now I have to practice it in the mirror..!

Chances are, it’s not. If the stiffy is there, then there’s a pretty good chance he’s turned on with or without the bag over my head. And Ladies, remember, 7 years I had sex with absolute strangers. 7 years where each one was left satisfied, and if they couldn’t produce, they’d tell me why..which we’ll come on to. But first, let me introduce you to my new favourite words…

 

2. Idiosyncratic Masturbation Style.

I’m also going to champion this as another good reason to sleep with escorts.

Basically, they’ve been spanking the monkey in their own way for such a long time, that to actually do The Sex with a Real Person takes them totally by surprise. Women don’t feel or fuck like a hand, or whatever device they may be using. They may be used to fwapping furiously at a speed that would make a freight train worry, and we are somewhat much more laid-back. 

I think I notice it a lot more in men in their late 20’s/30’s because they’ve had a lot more practice. So I would encourage them to save the lube, and just hire someone instead.

Gents, I’m afraid the best thing you can do is have a wank-break. Please. You can try a few days, a week, possibly two. It depends. Put a parental lock on your computer to stop you being tempted by the porn (and leads to Sexual Attention Deficit Disorder – where you’ve basically watched so much internet porn that real life just seems a bit dull. How awful) and avoid sitting at the back of busses. I know it sounds harsh, but do you want to keep finishing off in your hand for the rest of your life? No, we don’t want that for you either. That sounds like some kind of hellish ironic punishment.

And do you know how bad it sounds? How rubbish we feel? How hurt when you turn round and say ‘Sorry, I don’t think I can do it. I’ve been wanking too much.’ Well, don’t wank then. That’s what I’m here for! Ok, ok.. I know people in long-term relationships may be grateful for the moments of self-pleasure. I’m just talking about when it’s become a problem. When your partners frustrated that you seemingly prefer a hand-shandy to the soft, warm embrace of her body, the body she has so kindly invited you into. She’s spruced it up, cleaned it, done a bit of tidying around the place so you feel warm and at home, but in actual fact you’d rather be doing D.I.Y in the shed whilst watching a load of strangers. What an absolute cunt you are!

Sorry, got a bit angry there. But it’s just…selfish, isn’t it? Am I wrong? Don’t wank. Don’t watch porn. Do it with me instead because I’m the one whose here and who likes you. Not much to ask…

You know how we used to say wanking made you go blind and have hairy palms? We need a new Old Wives Tale for Internet Porn. Too much internet porn will stop you from having sex with girls. True, on many, many levels.

3. Medication

As an escort, men could tell me anything. They weren’t out to impress, there was no future, just the hour we had together. So on the initial phone call, straightaway there would be the confession of ‘I’m on medication that makes it a bit tricky for me to get hard/ejaculate/whatever’. I didn’t need to know that, but very nice that they told me. But In Real Life, it’s a lot harder for someone to admit to when they’ve only know the other person a limited amount of time. Would I want this person to know I’m on anti-depressants? To open up that line of questioning before we’ve even had dinner? No, probably not. Do I want to admit to being older, more fragile now I’m on heart medication? Not really.

So, sometimes, we have to figure it out. Or sometimes we worry that you don’t actually fancy us, so we don’t text you back, or answer your facebook messages because we feel unattractive to you. It’s only months later when we find out it’s because you’ve been on pills that we think…Ok, that’s fair enough. But by then, everyone’s moved on.

In my reality, it was medication stopping numbers 2 and 3 from reaching a satisfactory conclusion, but I didn’t know it at the time. And, as an ex-sex worker, I have that arrogant little voice in my head that says ‘Surely, a little pill won’t stop ME!‘. But yes, yes it does.

So..solution? Maybe just don’t be having sex with people you don’t feel comfortable talking to about it. I think that’s a pretty decent way to live anyway. Obviously, it’s not always that easy. You might find yourself in bed with a 32 year old whose libido has taking on the form of a raging bull, so it would just be dangerous not to. 

I guess what I’m saying is that not ejaculating, not orgasming isn’t just your problem, it effects your partner too. Yes, I’m sure it can be frustrating and bewildering for you and I have every sympathy, I do. But if any of these examples ring true, then think about how it will make that other person feel if they don’t know this about you. It’s daunting to be faced with a raging hard-on that’s just not doing anything. I can understand if there’s nothing happening at all, if the flacid little fella just ain’t playing. But in society we’re so used to the Captain Come-Quicks, that this can take us by surprise.

Take steps. Prepare. Communicate.

I’d be really interested to hear any similar stories or advice. This isn’t me bitching and moaning, I’m genuinely at the end of my tether on this and feeling…well…feeling like my vaginas broken, really. So please feel free to leave comments. 

 

 

 

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One Response to “A Dry Spell”

  1. Kenny Alexander Says:

    I call it my marathon man….I also call it Captain Can’t Cum….either way I hate it.

    I do love sex, I don’t like to quit haveing sex when I am having it, so sometimes I hold back a bit, mainly because I am a one shot wonder and I want to ENJOY the time I paid for….

    The real reason…exactly what you mentioned…the wank factor. Namely the “Jedi Death Grip” masturbation method. No pussy can match the crushing pleasure that my five fingered friend can bestow upon my slim jim. I don’t masturbate for hours (I don’t have the time) so I have developed a method where I strangle the poor guy for three minutes and he passes out and barfs cum…I feel better…he can’t feel at all.

    I have learned to NOT masturbate for at least a week before I have a date. I also like it because I can cum a LOT more when I do this (hydrate, eat veggies, pineapple because I am a gentleman). However, I find that I am also very sensitive when I do this and when the moment does come and we start in on our hour of bliss, one BJ and a camel toe slide and I am ready to pop the cap….so I pause and collect my thought, then we start again. Jump to 5 minutes to the witching hour and I CAN”T CUM. Suck the sac, lick the taint, talkd dirty, hard face fucking but I can’t cum…so….I strangle the fucker till he passes out and pukes and all is good.

    Then as I drive away, all happy and feeling good, I wonder, “Why didnt I just look at porn and blow my load like usual…I paid a lot to beat off on someones chest….

    The only other times it has happened is with odd smells, or when the pictures did not match the person and I was dissapointed but too polite to just say no and walk. They were upset and so was I…however I believe in all the cases of this, THEY KNEW WHY…

    Good post……

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