I was twenty-one when I slept with James. For the most part, our time together was fairly ordinary: James was a casual acquaintance whom I slept with a few times before passing on to someone else; though I enjoyed being with him enough to do it more than once, there was nothing incredibly…
reblogging again because this is important and I was high/sleepy as balls when I reblogged it last time.
Basically my entire high school sex life (read: just one partner, a white heterosexual rurally-raised male) consisted of him clumsily messing with my junk before he felt he’d earned enough Oral Points to get intercourse form me. And I would always pretend to come. Every fucking time. This is because any time I meekly suggesting any constructive criticism, he would take it as a personal slight and get very upset with himself and me.
Now that you know more about me than you’d ever prefer: MY POINT IS THAT IT WAS A HUGE ANXIETY FOR ME TO NOT ACHIEVE ORGASM, ESPECIALLY FROM ANYTHING THAT DIDN’T VIBRATE. This attitude makes sex more uncomfortable than it needs to be and distracts from the funness of exploring other people’s bodies.
I’ve even had sex with multiple dmab people who were perfectly fine with not climaxing during the entire event. Because we all had fun. And got to touch each other and stuff
So yeah orgasm is not something to chase, but something to enjoy, k
