Sometimes I get in my own way where sex is concerned. It’s not always easy to fuck. I want everything to flow, the clothes to fall off, the chemistry to click – but I can’t seem to feel it. Then I feel guilty for not performing and I feel worse. Which makes it harder to feel sexy. You see what I mean. Well, today was like that.
I’ve been looking forward to my date with Harold today, but when I got to his house I started to feel anxious and combative. I’m going through some difficult sex abuse stuff again. I knew he wanted to talk about it. I asked what he wanted to do for our date and he said talk about the hard stuff then make love. I was suddenly all over his case, accusing him of wanting to talk about the icky stuff more than making love to me. I was a bit mean. I said things that I knew would hurt him. I could have just told him what I wanted and it would have been fine, but that part of me that felt guilty for not feeling like sex wanted to make it his fault. I needed control.
I got hold of myself before I went too far and took Harold upstairs. He’s been saying for a while that he would shave my legs and trim my pubic hair, so I had him do that for me. We regained some of our normal connection. I relaxed a bit. It was getting better. When he was done with me, I shaved him.
We ended up on the bed, me dressed, Harold in only a button-down shirt. We were rolling around with me on top. I don’t remember now what set him off, but he started to get an erection. And suddenly, I felt kind of interested. I went down on him. He tried to get me to do 69, but I didn’t want to. I liked being in control. I told him that he would have to deal, I was going to torture him. And I did. I kept bringing him close to orgasm, but rather than let him come, I suddenly had an interest in fucking.
I had to get out of my clothes and remove a tampon, but I did so quickly. I briefly considered all of the things we had planned to do, but got out of my way before I could sabotage something that was working. I climbed on top of Harold and slid him in. It felt absolutely perfect. Amazing. Beautiful. I closed my eyes and just moved with what felt good. All of a sudden, Harold started coming and so did I. I panicked for a moment because I hadn’t been ready to orgasm, then relaxed.
And in relaxing, I began to cry – huge, racking sobs. Everything is so hard just now. I’m tired of hurting and being scared and agitated. I want sex to be mine. I’ve worked so fucking hard for sex to be mine. I want that honey-sex place, where I feel love and connection and bliss. Every time I don’t feel sexy I’m afraid I’ve lost it forever. I need to get out of my own way. It’s mine. I can have it, but I have to let it happen.