Touch It

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Acknowledgment: I offer my sincere apologies to Lonnie Barbach, Ph.D., for quoting/paraphrasing her book “For Yourself: The Fulfilment of Female Sexuality” without permission. All references are to her actual book published under this title, which I highly recommend, and thank her for writing.

“Masturbation! The amazing availability of it!”

(James Joyce)

I was damned and determined that I was going to have an orgasm. After three years of non-orgasmic sex, I was definitely *ready* for one. The problem was, after three years of heroic attempts to reach one, I had no idea what else to try. So, I read a book.

“Are you enjoying that, uh, book that you’re reading?” My then-fiance Derrick brought this up at dinner one evening.

“Yea, it’s pretty good. The intro was really interesting. I could really relate to some of the women she talked about.”


“Well, Dr. Barbach holds counseling or self-help type groups for women like me, and she talks about some of them in her intro. She also talks about more general stuff relating to female sexuality and the lack of value placed on female sexual satisfaction in our culture.”

“I see.” This probably sounded a bit too feministic to him. “Are you past the intro?”

“Yea, now I’m into the instructional part.”

“The book gives instructions?!?”

“Well, sort of. I mean, she discusses some techniques and stuff, like Kegels. It’s not like a sure recipe for success.”

“What are Kegels?”

“Exercises for the muscle that’s down there. You know, like when I squeeze you.” I smiled at him and winked.

“There are exercises for that?”

“Yea, she says that some women don’t come or don’t come very enjoyably because the muscle is too weak. She recommends some exercises for the muscle. They’re kind of weird, but I think she knows what she’s talking about.”

“So are you doing your Kegels?”

“Yea, I’ve been working on them this week.” I did a few while the conversation illegal bahis continued.

“What else does she say?”

I was a bit uncomfortable with the next part. “Well, she’s big on touching yourself. Uh, masturbating.” I was choking on the word.

“Oh, yea? Didn’t you tell me that you used to do that but stopped?”

“Well, sort of. I mean, I did, but not really the way she says. I mean, I wasn’t ever getting anywhere, so I stopped doing it years ago. But, she has a lot of different suggestions. She says that you have to be prepared to spend a least one hour per day for several weeks to see results.”

“An hour?!?”

“I know. I can’t do it that long. But, I’ve been trying to do it longer each day. She says many women just give up too soon. Anyhow, I’ll keep you posted.”

That night, I went to bed a little early in anticipation of my session of self stimulation. The book emphasized trying different types of stimulation, and all-over body caresses as opposed to a direct dash for the clitoris. As I lay nude in bed, I began by running both hands slowly over my breasts. This felt pretty good, so I started pinching my nipples, also. When both points were hard, I inched my right hand downward.

I knew my anatomy, at least. I quickly located my clit, then left it to explore the folds of my labia first. After I had softly petted myself for a minute or so, my hand traveled back to my clit. I began moving my entire hand across the area, my middle finger giving the clit an extra flick as it went by.

This was mildly stimulating, but it wasn’t going anywhere. As I had on previous nights, I became bored and got sore, and eventually gave up.

For the next week or so, Derrick and I continued with our usual sexual encounters. I also continued with the nightly routine, never feeling anything different. The book discussed the fact that some women have orgasms without realizing it because they are so subtle. So, I was paying close attention to anything illegal bahis siteleri that felt remotely different or new.

Derrick was aware of my lack of apparent progress, but knew it was a sensitive subject for me and avoided it. I told him to just forget about my orgasms for a few weeks and enjoy some selfish sex. By then, we had been together for almost a year. Everything else about our sexual relationship was great.

One afternoon, we were doing it on the guest bed for a change of scenery. I started by laying him on his back and wrapping my lips around his cock. As I enthusiastically licked and sucked his stiff erection, his moans of enjoyment encouraged me. I wanted to devour the entire length of him. Unable to do this, I settled on long wet licks along the shaft alternated with sucking on the end and tonguing the tip.

After Derrick recovered from his orgasm, his head traveled slowly down between my legs. His saliva mixed with my own juices to get me wet very quickly. I pulled him back up for a kiss, opening my legs invitingly and pulling his hips towards mine.

“C’mon in,” I invited, lifting my hips off the bed slightly to press my opening against him. He mumbled something incoherent, and buried himself inside me with one quick stroke. As he continued to move in and out of me, I whispered encouraging words to him.

“Yea, that’s it. Does that feel good? Hmmmm? Yes! Bury it in me. Make it feel good.” This sort of talk pushed him over the edge very quickly.

I was aching, hot, still anxious for more. I knew he was occasionally good for three orgasms. Even before his erection returned, I started rubbing my body against him. “One more time, please? I want to get on my hands and knees and feel you come into me from behind. I want to feel your balls slap against my ass.”

With these words, his erection revived one last time. As I climbed to my hands and knees, he positioned himself behind me and began squeezing my breasts. As he began to canlı bahis siteleri slowly enter my pussy, I quickly rocked my hips backward against him. Although he attempted to slow the pace of our lovemaking, I continued my wild ride, frustrating his efforts. I met each pause of his hips with movement from mine.

Although it was unusual for him to do so after sex, I was not surprised that Derrick fell asleep shortly after his third orgasm. After he was asleep, I laid on my back on the other side of the bed. I could still feel my pulse in my cunt with every heartbeat. I was very frustrated.

My right hand traveled down towards my pussy. I was still soaking wet. As I began to use the moisture to make it easier to manipulate my clitoris with my middle finger, I started thinking about how angry I was that I still hadn’t had an orgasm. I remembered a line from the book where Barbach asked one of her frustrated clients to consider what it meant if the woman “gave up”. Was she prepared to accept the defeat? I certainly wasn’t.

I continued moving my finger in circles across and around my clit. The angrier I got, the harder I rubbed and faster I moved my hand. Suddenly, I had the shocking realization that was I was doing actually felt *different*. In fact, it felt much better. This really surprised me, since I never expected to like it so “rough”. However, I continued the fast, hard rubbing, closing my eyes and concentrating on the sensations.

After a short while, I started thinking that what I was doing was _really_ beginning to feel great. Then, for a very brief moment, each movement across that one tiny spot felt intensely pleasurable. This perfection ended shortly with the sudden sensation of heat radiating out from my clit and washing over my entire body.

I was virtually silent throughout, too shocked to even vocalize my enjoyment. I was absolutely certain that I had experienced an orgasm, but nevertheless I glanced down at my chest, searching for those “signs” that the book mentioned. Yes, my nipples were sharp points and my chest had the characteristic red flush. It was true. I smiled and glanced over at Derrick.

I’d finally had my first orgasm, and Derrick had slept through it.

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