At some time when I wasn’t quite watching, feminism grabbed men by the
balls and taught them a few misconceptions that are interfering with my sex
life. They took the female response,
blurred it into a “one size fits all” , and made a sort of orgasmic soup that
apparently satisfies most women, but leaves me struggling.
The whole problem is this concentration on my clitoris, assuming that
by single minded attention to this tiny spot a man can produce a solitary
pleasure blast which is supposed to be what all women want. I beg to differ.
Now mind you, if you lock me into a room with a proper vibrator and no
partner I can, in just a couple of
minutes, produce a series of very satisfying orgasms. You might think that you’ve been replaced by an electrified gun
that shoots the necessity of your manhood off the planet. But in my case, I’ve simply found a
temporary way to insure that my libido doesn’t disappear while I’m waiting for
a real man to enter my life.
By now men know that most sexually alive women like to play with their
fingers or toys in the absence of a satisfying man. What they don’t know is not all ladies are searching for a man
with a slow hand or a fast tongue --- a
replacement for what women do for themselves.
In my case I can enjoy solitary concentration on my clitoris by a man
(or a woman) for about two
minutes. It won’t produce an orgasm,
but it will bring everything in my body below the waistline and above the knees
into joyous alert. After that my
clitoris goes into hiding and the remainder of me aches for intercourse ---
I’ve finished the appetizer and am ready for the entrée.
Even scientists who study sex agree that the human mind is an essential
sexual organ. When I’m alone, I give my
mind a fantasy, usually a recreation of a past enjoyment, and that, as much as
the electric toy, is what leads me into orgasm. But when I’m with a person, I’ve no need for fantasy. My mind has a present toy, and that one is
in grasping distance, but unfortunately busy down south where I can’t hug and
kiss him thus leaving me with my concentration on my sensations rather than
him. It seems pointless to create an
outside fantasy, when the source of my pleasure is right at hand and my poor
clitoris, alarmed by my pin pointed concentration on itself, hides itself and
ceases to send great sensations.
My pleasure in sex is created from the pleasure of my partner. While he might be thoroughly enjoying the
manipulations of his hand or tongue on my nether regions, I have no real
feedback to tell me that. Not being
about to fantasize some other situation, I soon bore of any congress that
doesn’t include a clear indication of my partner’s joy. I’m not a bit interested in having a solo
orgasm separated from my partner. I
want my pleasure and his pleasure to happen simultaneously, not serially.
I’m not at all sure how sex therapists and feminists got the idea I
want an orgasm independent of my partner.
My joy in sex is not the ending, but the experience of a warm, loving,
participating union. I want my hands,
legs, mouth, sense of smell, hearing, vagina, and yes --- even my clitoris ---
to be enjoying my partner all at the same time. Will I have an orgasm?
You betcha, probably many. What
do you need to do to make that happen?
Enjoy yourself. It works for me.
© Picottee Asheden
