Smitten with Him

grown-up stuff happens here sometimes

Good Girl


I wrapped my arm around Him tightly as I nestled in the crook of His arm. It felt so good; nice and warm in His bed, under the electric blanket I gave Him for Christmas.

We lay there like that for quite a while, but it didn’t surprise me when He started guiding my head back down to His cock. I enjoy pleasing Him very much and I know this pleases Him immensely (He hasn’t ever rated my skills and has always praised me for my oral ‘prowess’).

Incidentally, I am fascinated by a man’s penis. *I* don’t have one, therefore I don’t understand how it works, therefore it’s magic! And, although I prefer a circumcised one to a non-, that could very likely be only because I haven’t met many of the other sort 😉

I am not adverse to learning new things…

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Late Wednesday evening last week, Mick said something in an email that set me off. I don’t even know what it was that got me.

Maybe I was looking for an excuse to be angry with him or pick a fight… I don’t honestly know… Any enlightenment you can offer on the subject will be welcomed.

Hi baby doll,

I am so looking forward to tomorrow night. As always. Whether I am wailing on you or stroking you or just talking, I really like to be with you.

There are so many things that I want to know about you. I am not sure if you are ready to tell me yet. I know you are trying to not get too attached. I get that. There are things about me that I am not sure you want to know either. I have been having some random thoughts today and wanted to write some of them down. Your question at lunch yesterday was interesting how you posed it. [I asked if he was going to be able to keep up with me.] I am concerned about the age difference because it is more than I have been apart from anyone I have been with. I have not exactly been easy on my body through the years and I am concerned that I may not be able to keep you happy in a few years. Not just sexually, but in all aspects. I know that you have already made some “sacrifice” to be with me now. I don’t want you to have to keep making them for me. I want to make you happy for many, many years. I am pretty sure you are deserving of that. I am starting to think of my own mortality and don’t want people to sacrifice for me. I have lived most of my life believing that I need to sacrifice for others to try and repay for my past. I am in somewhat of a quandary and don’t know what to do. Let’s talk about this soon. Doesn’t have to be tomorrow. Just know that this is on my mind a lot, just as I think about how you make me feel is on my mind a lot.

Hope you had a good skate tonight. I want to come watch you sometime, but not sure if I should. I am doing my best to respect your position of not getting too attached.

Just kind of rambling now. Sleep well my sweet kitten and I will see you in dreamland. Read the rest of this entry »


Bitch on the Side


So… Why did I change my mind and decide to let Mick have 6 months of my life and my self?

Basically it all boils down to the fact that he treats me the way I’ve always wished to be treated.

And it’s only 6 months, 180 days… If it doesn’t work, I didn’t even waste a year on trying to figure it out. Shit! I’ve wasted that much time on Alaska! Although it is much easier to figure things out with Mick because he communicates.

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About Last Night

Below are my email correspondences with Mick the day after our choking incident/mishap/”episode”

Hope you’re having a good day! I saw this picture and it made me laugh. I love a good bed to jump into and have it fluff all around me. Work is creeping along here like a turtle. I sincerely wish I could be jumping into that fluffy bed next to you.

Last night was amazing and special and very memorable. Thank you so much for sharing little bits of your soul with me. Yes, you’ve told me that you won’t be able to talk with me about some of those things ever – just the fact that you stayed mentally with me last night and didn’t withdraw into yourself was very special and meant a lot to me. And I was only scared for a millisecond. When I saw your face, I realized where I was, that I was safe and heard the same song still playing (though I can’t remember what it is now 😉 )

Enough of that sappiness… You are great and wonderful and I feel ever so special when I’m with you – like I’ve never known! Thank you for a lovely night and morning!
Your Kitten

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Monday Afternoon With Loserman and Bear

I spent Monday afternoon this week with Loserman.


My truck, Bear, is badly broken. We thought we had fixed the problem 10 days ago, but when I was out running errands with Thing #2 the very next day he broke again. As I was pulling into the parking lot at our apartment complex, he started leaking anti-freeze out of the back of the engine. A totally new problem.

Loserman thought that maybe it was the heater core, so he asked me a bunch of questions and told me that he would be out to check on him that afternoon. I was sick and watching the playoffs game with Thing #1 that Sunday, so Loserman let me stay inside instead of helping him. There wasn’t much I could do anyway.

He wasn’t able to diagnose anything at that time because the antifreeze leak was so bad. It was all over the bottom of the truck and he told me he would be back later.

Unbeknownst to me until this Monday, Loserman stopped by and did a couple minor things to Bear last week and figured out where the leak was coming from – not the heater core. It turns out that a seal had cracked behind the engine and Loserman would have to replace a gasket in the cooling line.

This Monday was a gorgeous day, so Loserman came over to start working his way back to that rear seal. As he was rolling Bear out for a test drive, the problem we originally “fixed” came back. Bear died in the middle of the parking lot and Loserman couldn’t get him started again.

As it happens, I was still on a date with Scorpio (not this one) as all this was happening. So, when I got home around 1PM, I saw the hood propped open and Loserman was working on Bear.

It turns out to be worse than Loserman originally thought and we’re going to have to rebuild the engine sooner than planned – like right now instead of this summer. Forcing me right up in the face of Loserman from now until the truck is done.

So, I spent Monday afternoon this week with Loserman. I told him that I missed him, that I missed “us” and our connection. He returned the sentiment with “I miss you guys, too.” (When I asked him who that meant, he didn’t answer.) After that we just talked about work or if his foot is feeling better, or mine… You know, surface stuff.

By the end of the afternoon, he had the plenum, valve cover and heads off and was able to reach the rear seal that needs to be replaced. That was step one of “the plan” and we were both glad that he was able to get so much accomplished in one day. Now he has to replace the seal and then find all the parts (lifters, rocker arms, cam, etc…) to replace the old ones and hope that my lovely apartment complex doesn’t tow Bear in the meantime.

I didn’t feel as uncomfortable or angry with him this time while we were together but it also didn’t feel close like we used to be. I hate so much that he drove this wedge between us!

I want so badly just to talk to him and see if he’s ready to tell me what I did wrong… Or what the fuck was wrong with him…

On the other hand, I don’t want to upset him in the middle of tearing out my engine…

I miss my friend, my lover, my skate partner, my confidante, my motivation, my sunshine…

I seriously don’t know any more. I am so confused.

Just leave it be. I know.


Baby Steps


He said he gave me a 6.5 because he wanted to be honest.

I appreciate that. It gives me something to work towards.

I am not denying that it hurt or that it was a pretty huge blow to my ego (whether or not I am actually a 6.5).

We talked about it at breakfast Friday. He told me that he mentioned it to 2 of his friends and they thought he shouldn’t have been such a dick about it so blunt. Although he agreed there could have been a kinder way to say it, it worked out fine this way, too…

Because, either way, it’s important that I know if I am or am not pleasing to my lover, right? What kind of sub would I be if I didn’t care how good he thought I was? Or how good he thought I felt or performed.. I want him to be proud of me… Pleased with me… Pleasured by me…

I am not changing for him, but we are learning each other.

Does that make sense?

Also, it’s possible he was trying to gauge my emotions and how I will react to different things – a bit of a test maybe. Not to be an asshole, but to get to know me/feel me out. He eluded to it a bit at the beginning of our breakfast Friday.

It was something he said and his words totally perplexed me… It was strange. He saw it on my face but didn’t ask me about it – I could tell and appreciate that he held back.

Incidentally, Mr. X confided in me that he thought I was going to “break up” with him for his 6.5 comment. It actually felt reassuring that he thinks about those types of things sometimes, too…

We are still just getting to know each other.

Baby steps.

We’re jumping into a pretty huge adventure together.

Baby steps.

Both of us learning something new.

Exploring that side of ourselves together.

We’re being straightforward-honest with each other and, in that, vulnerable to the core.

As far as I’m concerned, so far so good! 😀

Mr. X told me, “We’re building a skyscraper and we can’t do that overnight. We’re on the 2nd floor. Be patient.”

Baby steps.


Just Friends

This morning, after a wonderful night of skating, I had a brief moment of frustration with Loverman and now he never wants to go on another skating trip with me. Ever. Again.

This morning at 5AM, after him arriving 3 hours late, driving for 10 hours, skating immediately after that for 2 hours and an extreme lack of food, I had a brief lapse of neediness.

He wasn’t into that so much.

Maybe I will talk about it someday (or you can read about Day 1 of our Sk8-Venture last year – it’s pretty much the same as that except I have no fucking clue what I did to mess things up this time).

The short story is: he can’t “deal with” the drama right now, but he loves me so much that he still wants to be friends.

Fuck that!


I think that I really do hate everyone.

Especially after I really get to know them.

Especially Loverman.

I love him so much it actually tears my soul out of me chest to say this, but:

He needs to learn forgiveness or we are done.

If he really lets me go, he is losing the best-est thing that ever happened to him.

I even reminded him that 90% awesome-ness and 10% frustrating is a pretty sweet relationship

But he wouldn’t hear that.

He was totally focused on how he knew I was going to fuck up this vacation.

So this vacation got fucked up.

If he can’t see all of the totally awesome things I do for him as a friend and as a partner and as a lover and forgive me when I make a mistake, then maybe he IS right and we should “just be friends”. And, I only say that because he is such good friends with Thing #1. If she wasn’t involved, I think I would be done with his bullshit entirely.

I hope to write about this more coherently later, but I am pretty fucked up right now.

Both emotionally and alcoholically.

I tried getting stoned, but it didn’t help.


My Amazing Ashley Madison Date

Disclaimer: this story may cause great bodily reactions, tingling and create excitement in some readers 😉
(thank you, myipadography)

He’s a Capricorn. I studied up on Capricorns before our date so I had some kind of idea what to expect.

I’m glad I did.


I found out that they are very reserved and don’t like affection in public.

They appreciate modesty, so don’t go all-out with a crazy “bare everything” outfit. That will turn him off.

Capricorns like intelligence and sarcastic wit. They appreciate cool composure and “stellar conversation”.

I learned they are very goal-oriented and, when they want something, they will slowly and surely get it.

They are dependable. When they say they’ll be there at 8, they will be there at 8.

They appreciate honesty and become comfortable with a person more quickly if they are immediately forthcoming.

They are very passionate lovers!

He was all of that, and he really liked me! I didn’t act any different from my normal self, but I was very grateful to know a little bit about what I was in for.

He texted me at 6:10 to tell me that he was stuck in traffic and his “ETA was 6:35.” The restaurant was downtown and I was relieved I would have a couple extra minutes to get myself together after navigating through all the one-ways and trying to find a parking garage.

The garage that I found was right next to the restaurant, underneath a luxury apartment complex and the elevators came out into the lobby. There was a concierge sitting at the front desk who said “Hello” to me as I walked by the first time.

But, I had forgotten to change my shoes to the ‘evening’ ones, so I had to go back into the building to get back to my truck. This time, I asked the concierge if the front doors were open 24 hours so I could get back in later. He told me, “I’ll be here until midnight, Ma’am. After that, security will be here. There’s a number at the door outside to call if no one is at the front desk when you need to get in.”

“Thank you. I have to go change my shoes quick, I’ll be right back.” (oversharing is a problem with me when I am nervous)

The concierge smiled at me, and when I walked through the lobby for the third time, he said, “I hope you have a lovely date.”

That was so sweet.

My date didn’t arrive until 6:45, but I didn’t care. It was a nice evening and I was waiting outside the restaurant on a bench. I called out his name when I saw him walking up to the door. He looked excited to see me; I’m sure I looked exited to see him. We side-hugged. I felt a connection then. He apologized for being late and opened the door for me to walk through first.

We didn’t have to wait to be seated. He had made a reservation and called to tell them we would be late (oooh, that was SO sexy!). The Hostess walked us to our table while he let me lead. I’m pretty sure he wanted to walk behind me so he could check out my ass. I did my sexy-curvy walk just in case 😉 He pulled out my chair for me and sat down across the table.

He was so charming. His smile lit up his face. His pictures on the website didn’t do him justice. They were super-hot pictures, but I thought they made him look arrogant and conceited.

If he was either of those things, they didn’t affect our evening together.

We had a lovely dinner. The meal was awesomely expensive ($162) and awesomely tasty and the company was so much better than I anticipated.

We mostly talked about work and what we are looking for in regards to a “relationship”. We got to know about each other; talked about our past choices and relationships, etc. He was very candid, as was I. At one point he asked me why it took so long for me to respond to his original message to me – 2 months.

I told him that I thought he looked/seemed way out of my league. When I saw his pictures he looked so handsome and professional and well-coiffed that I didn’t think I stood a chance. I thought that, once he actually met me, he would lose interest with me quickly. I’m just a simpleton. But, then, WTF? If I don’t try, I can’t know.

He reminded me that *he* was the one who initiated contact.

I reminded him that I only have a picture of my legs posted.

We sat at our table talking for almost 3 hours.

He walked me to my truck afterward, as I assumed he would. (Who says chivalry is dead?) We had to phone the concierge to let us into the building. We were let in and my date insisted, yet again, that I walk in front of him to the elevator.

I stood at the door of my truck, looking into his light brown eyes… It must have been intense because he broke the silence with, “You look like you’re thinking very hard about something.”

“Yes,” I answered. “I am thinking how much fun I had at dinner with you and how much I wish you would kiss me. And how I know we can’t really do that out here in the open…”

He was already looking around for security cameras and said something to that effect.

I turned around to face my truck and as I unlocked and opened the driver’s door, he stepped in close behind me, buried his face in my neck and breathed in deeply the scent of me. He kissed the side of my neck and nuzzled his face into my hair some more. One of his hands were up the back of my dress, fondling my ass, caressing towards the front to fondle my pussy a little through my panties.

I let my body be free to his touch, my hips grinding my ass into his hips, my hand grabbing onto his thick erection through his black jeans. I could hear myself making noises, they were echoing off the cement walls. I tried to quiet myself, but the electricity between us right then was practically palpable!

He asked, “Does the back seat of your truck fold down?”

“No, but the front one does,” I replied. My cheeks were flushed and our breathing was heavy. He got into the driver’s side and I walked over to the passenger side and climbed in. Immediately his lips were on mine – fierce and powerful, full of lust and passion – and his hand was creeping it’s way back up my skirt again. He reached my, now very wet, black panties and began pulling them down my right thigh; then the left.

I lowered my seat as far as it would go and he climbed on top of me — he was still fully clothed. He grabbed my hips and thrust me farther up the back of the seat. My shoulders and head were actually resting on the seat behind us.

Somehow, he managed to get his legs crunched up at the base of my seat, body between my legs and then he buried his face in my pussy!

For almost 45 minutes!

I came so many times that I lost count – twice I came so hard I actually thought I was going to lose consciousness!

After such a lovely dinner, to be worshiped like this was absolutely fabulous. I was in heaven. A few times, when I was actually coherent enough to form a complete thought, I said something like, “This is so unfair. You really need to be getting a turn, too. This feels so good, what you’re doing to me. I hope I can make you feel this good, too.”

All he said in response to that was, “This is your night. This is all for you.”

When I seriously thought I could come no more, he asked me, “Do you have another one in there for me?”

“I don’t think so.” I gasped, “You do so well, but I think she’s done for tonight.”

“Your pussy is so tight and beautiful and you are so sexually responsive. You just keep coming and coming. It’s powerful knowing I can show you this kind of pleasure. I want to feel you come again.”

“You can do this to me all night long if it’s going to feel this good.”

His mouth was fully on my clit, sucking and licking and he had two fingers in my pussy doing some kind of corkscrew thing. It felt a-MA-zing! “I don’t know what you’re doing, but don’t stop. It feels so good.” And I let loose with another orgasm.

“I thought you said you didn’t have another one in you,” he teased as he licked up every last bit of my juices, “You’re a squirter. Did you know that?”

I shook my head and answered, “No, but no one has ever eaten me out like that before. I didn’t even know I could come that hard!” He bit my inner thigh a couple of times to tease me and I giggled. My body was still trembling and he was rubbing my entire pussy with the palm of his hand, trying to calm me down. We were both drenched with sweat. The windows of my truck were completely fogged up.

“It’s like a sauna in here.” He kissed me a few more times, less energetically, and let himself out of my truck. While he was straightening his sport coat and shirt he said, “I am going to have to walk around for a little while to cool off. Should we try this again next week?”

“I would like that very much.”

He picked up one of my shoes that had fallen out of the truck, handed it to me and casually walked away. He didn’t look back; while I laid, barely aware, on the still-reclined passenger seat, dress completely disheveled, panties off, one leg out of the vehicle, sweating and panting and trying to collect myself. I laid there sprawled like that for probably 10 minutes. My brain was blown and all I could feel was the pleasure between my thighs. I laid there: mind-blown and giggling quietly to myself. My imagination kept flashing back to all parts of the night. The waitress, the amazing dinner, the great wine, the company, the crazy pussy-eating fest at the end…

I almost came again on the drive home thinking about it.

And, if there were security cameras in that parking garage, the sweet young concierge had a very scintillating night at work! 😉

I sent this email to him Tuesday night, before I passed out to dream of incredible oral sex:

Thank you for a breathtaking evening. It was better than I ever could have imagined! I look forward to having a next time so I can get a turn with you, too. The things you did to my body tonight were amazing! My mind is still blown.
On my drive home I had a hard time concentrating. I almost came again thinking about how you made my body tingle… Mmmm….! I hope you sleep well.
Titillated and tingly

His response Wednesday morning was:

I’m glad you had a great time (I did too!).  I’m traveling for work the next couple of weeks, but how does Tuesday the 1st look to get together?

I think it’s looking pretty damn good! What do you think?


Fantasies, Part 2


David Boreanaz is a pre-Loverman fantasy of mine.
I found this pic yesterday. Mmmmm!!!

You know, Loverman and I can talk to each other about almost anything. But, lately I find myself reverting back to my old pre-Colorado self — the me that is more reserved and afraid of what others are thinking; the me that doesn’t want to or know how to say what’s on her mind. On good days it’s just a slight uphill battle, but recently (like the past 6 months) I really seem to be sliding back to the old “ways”.

Even though we have a “date night” practically every week, I see that as our “sex night”, too. Loverman not so much… He has told me a few times in the past, that with us it’s not about sex and he likes that; he can just be with me or we can just be together and that’s all right. I don’t disagree, I just like having sex with him (A LOT!!!). And that’s what I told him last night.

I don’t want to be shallow, but the nights I spend with him are special nights because we don’t get to be together that often. Re-connecting with him on an intimate and sexual level does exactly that — reconnect us. It’s like when the seam on your pants starts coming loose and, the looser it gets, the easier it is to unravel the entire cuff. Does that make sense? When we’re intimate, it’s like mending the frayed edges… That’s important to me

Anyways… I didn’t tell Loverman about my security-/police-man fantasy. I totally intended to, but there didn’t seem to be a good time as I was “freaking out” and being totally unsexy. Our intimacy level has changed and I am a little worried that we’re getting to that comfortable place of complacence and apathy. That’s exactly what I am trying to avoid with Loverman and that’s why I was upset a little last night.

When our affair first started, neither of us was getting any attention from our spouses and we both needed someone to fill in that emptiness. It was like: he would get into the shower with his wife and she would say, “What are you doing in here? This is my shower.” With my husband, intimacy was always kind of an issue: there wasn’t any unless I initiated it. One day I stopped asking because it didn’t fulfill my need for intimacy and the sex wasn’t good enough for me to actually want to work that hard for it any more. Mr. Doom-n-Gloom hasn’t mentioned it once. It didn’t even phase him when I started permanently sleeping on the family room couch and eventually moved my dresser and all my things in there.

I think it was inevitable that Loverman and I would get more involved with each other than just sex (seriously, we have too many obscure things in common; like roller skating and going to the junk yard. Why wouldn’t our relationship evolve?!?!), but it never occurred to me that our level of comfort with each other would ever change our level of intimacy with each other. That’s the issue I was struggling with last night when I was laying next to him in bed, both of us naked. I was stroking his lovely and wonderful Coconut, trying to get some action going, and there was no sexual response from him. There was seriously nothing. So I asked him if I was doing something wrong.

T___Sunrise by Ludi Price on Deviantart

by Ludi Price on Deviantart

“Mamacita. You know how we talked before about how, with us, it’s not always about sex and that I am comfortable just laying next to you in bed and falling asleep?”

“Yes, baby, and if we got to spend more time together I would totally feel the same way. But, I really like having sex with you and I mostly never get to do it. It makes me feel better and re-connected. You help me re-charge my battery. And you feel sooooo good! Tonight I’ve tried several times (with kissing and the things I was doing to him in the shower…) and the stuff that usually works isn’t doing anything for you. Yesterday you told me that Coconut was up thinking about me all night. What happened? Are you getting sick of me?”

“No, Mama. I am just getting old.”

I called bullshit on him for the “old” comment, and we continued talking for a little while, with me getting progressively more upset (but not a complete freakazoid!) until he told me, “You know, this isn’t helping to get me in the mood. If you know what I’m saying.”

He wasn’t mean or condescending, just matter-of-fact and 100% right! It took a little while for me to stop the waterworks, but I did and the rest of the night went well. Eventually we even made love and, of course, it was beautiful. Maybe it was pity sex, or maybe it was because I talked to him about my feelings. It didn’t feel like pity sex…

Heart DividerTonight would normally be one of our skate nights (I am SO lucky I get to spend as much time with him as I do. I know there are many others out there who spend all too much time pining away for their lovers.), but it was cancelled because there weren’t enough people coming to open the rink. So, I am going to take him out for a decent dinner (not Elway’s or anything that fancy, though) where we can have a couple Margaritas and a nice burger or sandwich. I’ll try again and, hopefully, I will be able to find the right time (aka: muster up enough courage) to actually tell Loverman what I meant to tell him last night!

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Ladies, Put Those Fake Orgasms “Out of Business”!

This lovely article was posted back in October of 2011, but I found it a few months ago and stowed it away for future reading and reflection (and I really love the Wizard of Oz connection at the end).


He Doesn’t Deserve Your Validation: Putting The Fake Orgasm Out of Business
by Yashar Ali

It’s great to be a man in our society, the perks seem to be endless. Everything is built with the intention of accommodating our needs. It’s fantastic, really. We men are constantly validated.

And the bedroom is one place where we receive consistent validation. I’m talking about women faking orgasms and giving us the sense that we’re the greatest lovers that have ever lived.

What a terrific arrangement for men. We get all the sexual pleasure and the feeling that we have satisfied the woman we’re sleeping with, without actually having done so.

A woman faking an orgasm is now sort of, just part of the deal, isn’t it? You just do it; it’s almost like something that’s passed down from generation to generation, like makeup tips or a recipe. It’s a gift women give to men, because it’ll just keep him satisfied and calm.

I couldn’t disagree more.

I think it’s a major offense to women and their sexual selves. And it shouldn’t be casual water cooler conversation nor should it be reserved for women’s magazines like Cosmopolitan.

The fake orgasm should be examined as a systemic problem in our society.

A Temple University study, featured in the CBS News column, “Study: Most Women Fake Orgasms—But Why?” shows around 60 percent of women have faked an orgasm.

This all comes down to conditioning. From a very early age, women taught to satisfy the fiery male ego. The fake orgasm is just another moment in which a woman sacrifices for a man without receiving anything in return and worse, it leaves them feeling sexually unfulfilled.

Today, when we see the female orgasm covered in the main stream, it’s dealt with in a comedic way. We see Meg Ryan’s character in When Harry Met Sally screaming at the top of her lungs (in a diner) or we see an Herbal Essences commercial with a woman having a massive orgasm over fabulous shampoo. We find the sound of a woman faking an orgasm to be funny.

It’s not. It’s the sound of an unsatisfied woman working to satisfy the already exploding male ego.

We don’t talk publicly about the orgasm gap in the mainstream—but that doesn’t surprise me. Our male-dominated society would never want to expose that women are faking orgasms, that men really aren’t satisfying women in droves.

However, the numbers reveal something more clarifying. According to the ABC News article, “Female Orgasm May Be Tied to ‘Rule of Thumb,’” 15 percent of surveyed women have NEVER had an orgasm (I wonder if its much higher in reality). And the same surveys show that 75 percent of women don’t reach orgasm during intercourse—that’s right, gentleman.

So why do women fake it?

Two major reasons stick out as I spoke with many women over the past two months: feeding the male ego and time.

“It just makes him happy, it feels more complete,” said one friend.

“But does it leaving YOU feeling complete?” I asked.

“No, it leaves me feeling like I am just a tool for his orgasm.”

That comment reminded me of what my friend D’Andra’s grandmother used to tell her, “Sex is for men, sex is for their benefit.”

Imagine growing up with that ideology…

Many women fake their orgasms as a means to end an un-pleasurable sexual process.

“I don’t have time. I can’t sit here while he plows away like a jack rabbit, it’s not fun for me when it’s like that.”

A woman writer I know mentioned that a man should never ask a woman if she fakes it.

I disagree. The male ego has been coddled for way too long. Enough is enough. We have to blow the cover off the secret world women are living and in this case, it’s a world where we get everything we want and they usually get nothing. And we teach women that it’s just the way things are and always have been.

This is how I see it: the fake orgasm is not compartmentalized from the rest of what women have to do. It sits at the core of a larger dismissal of a woman’s needs and desires, extrapolating across all parts of their lives, work, life, home. Women are not simply a tool for our sexual pleasure, they are ultimately a tool for making every part of our lives easier.

Many of the women I’ve talked with see faking an orgasm as a little gift, a favor for the man they’re with. That makes no sense to me. Faking an orgasm is not like making him a snack after he comes home from work or remembering what kind of beer he likes to drink.

It’s not that having an orgasm is critical during every sexual juncture; it’s that faking it takes women away from themselves. Faking it with any regularity generally leads to a path of a lifetime of sexual dissatisfaction, and dissatisfaction in general.

But too many women treat sex as an activity left in the bedroom—they see it as an isolated activity. I disagree. Sex is important and if the man displays a lack of care in the bedroom, is he thoughtful in other areas of a woman’s life?

As I’ve noted in previous columns, we condition men to maintain women, to keep them satisfied on a periodic basis. We don’t condition them to think about their day-to-day needs—the same basic needs women think about with regard to the men in their life.

Most women have yet to discover their true sexual power—not power over others—but the power they can feel within themselves. So when men maintain women by doing a little here and there in the bedroom, and women fake it, it just leads to a diminishing of female power.

What I find to be remarkable is the lengths to which this culture will go to ensure men are sexually satisfied. We spend billions of dollars to produce drugs, like Viagra and Cialis, for erectile dysfunction, providing seventy-year-old men with the possibility of a thirty-six hour erection. But discussion about the millions of women who don’t have orgasms or are sexually dissatisfied is shoved into the fringes.

Most of the women I spoke to saw porn, and the men who watch it regularly, as a root cause for this need to fake orgasms. For the record, I don’t fundamentally see a problem with porn. Rather, my issue is with the kind of porn that is defined as mainstream and is made specifically for men. An entire generation of porn watching men (thanks to the internet), now have this idea that women climax by instantly screaming at the top of their lungs as soon as they see a penis…give me a break.

My friend Nina Hartley, feminist, registered nurse, and porn icon, has a take on porn that may come as unexpected, given her vocation, “Well, if any person is watching porn to get an idea of how actual people have sex, then they need their heads examined. Porn is FANTASY, like a live-action cartoon, and shouldn’t be taken seriously as sex ed.”

But there seems to be a bigger issue here: how our society sees women and their needs.

“Women are so complicated,” one of my guy friends said, when I asked him about women’s sexual needs.

No, actually they’re not. While certain women may need more concentration, effort, or focus to reach orgasm, I don’t think that makes them complicated.

We persist in this illusion that women are sexually and emotional complicated so we don’t have to show them the care and affection they need. We can put it on them. It’s really easy to say, “Oh, she’s so complicated,” as if a woman is a labyrinth that only three men in the world can solve.

As a result, we can justify why we don’t or can’t give her what she needs, because it’s just too hard to figure her out.

There’s a pretty simple formula here: women want what we men want.

Don’t be a jerk. Ask her what she wants, and when she tells you, see it as a fantastic opportunity to please her. Don’t think it’s a personal assault on your manhood. Basically, do what she does for you.

For most men, sex is carnal; it’s about the raw pleasure. But for too many women, sex is often a cerebral process. One in which they have to think and plan when to fake an orgasm, when to make everything perfect for the man in their lives. They are pleasing our massive egos, instead of pleasing themselves.

I’m tired of the fake orgasm being treated by women’s magazines like the newest lipstick color or the season’s best handbag. We treat a woman faking an orgasm so casually. It is a BIG deal. It should no longer be seen as an act of convenience or consideration, but rather, an act of submission: submission to the male ego and submission to our screwed up rules about women and sexuality. We condition and encourage women to submit across the board, and in the case of sex, it is the most fundamental part of a woman’s identity, whether they know it or not. And by her sexual identity, I am not necessarily saying that it’s about sex with others, I am referring to her sexual self.

So how does this all boil down in terms of the role men have to play? I think in terms of our perception of sex, women see it as an experience and men are conditioned to see it as a performance. We see it as a one-man performance, one in which we are the star, the director, the producer—it’s how we condition men to exist in life with respect to the way in which they relate to women.

It’s like the Wizard of Oz. On the surface, you see a lot pomp and circumstance, but if you peek behind the curtain, there’s a scared little man who has not only been taught to focus on himself, but has also been taught that focusing and pleasing a woman, on her terms, is an act of submission and weakness.

I try to avoid being and sounding prescriptive in my writing, but in this case I am begging women to put the fake orgasm out of business. Men don’t need or deserve more validation—we get it every day, in many different ways.

It’s time for women to seek the sexual (and all other types of) pleasure that has been, for too long, absent or lost in their lives.

And it’s time for men to stop automatically assuming that they are fantastic in bed.

Frankly, it’s time for men to assume we aren’t that great in bed, until we are told otherwise…and not by a fake orgasm.

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The husband seems very much like the man in the article that said, “Women are too complicated.” He used to finger me until I told him he was hurting me, then he would climb on top and ‘assume the position’. The foreplay always hurt because he applied way too much pressure with the heel of his hand on my pelvis (I would feel tender like a bruise for days, and not in the good way), and he would never in a million years kiss me down there (I stopped giving him blow jobs a long, long time ago because of it)! Then, he would slip his dick in me and, 4-10 thrusts later he would be done and regaling his fantasticness to me: “That was the awesome! That was the best sex we ever had. Was it good for you?” He stopped fucking me when I stopped saying Yes. I just got sick of gratifying his ego when I was left unsatisfied and uncomfortable.

A perfect example:
The very last time we had sex it was in the afternoon, (about 3 years ago) he did the finger-bang thing to me (literally), stuck his dick in me three times (I am NOT kidding), came inside of me, slumped his 315-pound body down onto mine in a huff and told me over and over again how awesome it was (like the more he said it the better it would be for me. Also, he was making it last longer by cuddling smothering being with me.). He asked, “Did you come?” Under his massive weight I managed to squeeze out the words, “No. I didn’t.” He peeled his body away from mine (yay, I could breathe again!), huffed at me, slammed the bathroom door and took a shower by himself. After that he didn’t speak to me for 2 days. No Shit! No wonder I faked orgasms for this guy! I could give a shit if he felt complete because I sure as hell didn’t, and I was sick of it! I was just “a tool for his orgasm” and I had my own tools for orgasms in my dresser… Also, I had Loverman…

That is the day I started sleeping on the couch.

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Maybe I had to have experience with an exponentially-shitty lover so I can be ever-so-much more thankful for Loverman! I am so glad that he has shown me that my body is a wonderland. He has caused me to realize a sexuality inside of myself I never knew existed!

He loves to love my body as I love to love his. Every time we are together it’s like exploring new territory — even after we’ve already covered so much! And I can now feel the female sexual power coursing throughout me — something the husband was unwilling (or too lazy, or too cowardly, or too selfish) to help me discover.

Watch out boys, because this girl has stopped faking it forever!