So she faked an orgasm?

6 Jul

When a guy curls up in my bed to sulk and feel shitty about having failed to give me an orgasm, all I can think of is, “It’s cute you care, but that makes one of us.”

I appreciate that you care. But.

I hate it when I read men’s magazines, and I find an article about “How to tell if she’s faking it”. WHO CARES and how is it any of your business? Do I have to feel guilty about you being the only one to climax? It’s my body and it reacts how ever it pleases. You don’t pay or hurt to give a woman an orgasm. You wanted the sex for your own pleasure at least as much as for hers. She owes you nothing, you had your orgasm, move on.

I have faked orgasms, but that was just because I don’t like when men pressure me. “I won’t come if you won’t” is something I honestly find pretty crappy. Do I have to be sore and dry before you finally throw in the towel? Get this: women are not built to climax from just poking around in there with a dick. Some still manage, but many more do not. It’s not you, it’s us. Really.
And personally, I couldn’t care less. Saying you don’t enjoy sex because you didn’t climax, is like saying you hated a movie until its climax scene, or that you hated dinner until dessert. Isn’t climax, be it movie or sex, just part, not essence of the activity? I mean, I think Narnia was pretty epic and enjoyable even before the big battle with the cheetahs and the gryphons. I enjoy sex like I enjoy a movie: every minute, climax or no climax. Some bits are better than others, but overall it’s good even without that horrible seizure that is the female orgasm.

If I fake climax, it’s because I’m getting tired and want it over with, and Mister insists on pecking away at my poor vagina until I climax, which at this point is impossible because I’m way out of the mood and have been for the past 30 minutes that he’s been cursing and grunting and frustrating himself with trying to give me that orgasm I don’t need.

I agree with what the chick in Irreversible said at the beginning – or the end – of that messed-up movie: the best sex is sex with a guy who only thinks of his own pleasure and concentrates on himself. Let me take care of myself, thank you. Nothing hotter than the sweet, intelligent gentleman who gave you 80% of his popcorn during the politically educational movie, turning into a grunting wild animal. Humans try so hard to kill off all base animal behavior in their daily life for the sake of appearing classy; let us at least be wild in bed. I really don’t like it when a guy constantly stops to ask if I’m liking it, if this is okay, if that is the spot, etc. It’s nice, but let’s just fuck instead of talking about how to fuck. My pleasure is feeling his pleasure, and I enjoy sex with a guy gone primeval a lot more than sex with a guy who worries about his performance. The latter makes me feel bad too, because it’s me he’s worried for. And I don’t need it. I don’t care for it. If I wanted an orgasm, I’d just google a black gang bang and touch myself. I have sex for the touchy-feely-gropey-humpy part. Things I cannot do myself. I can’t feel my own muscle around me, and I can’t suck and bite my own neck. Then there are the more graphic things I can’t do myself for not having the required parts, but my mom might be reading this shit. Long story short, better than the ohmygodimgonnahaveaseizure feeling of an orgasm, is to me the bare fucking part.

The journey is the best part for me, not what some perceive to be the destination. I hate it at my Lod-based office, I wouldn’t need to arrive there after the 3 hour train ride – but I love the train ride, looking at all those men in uniform with assault rifles dangling off their asses. The ride could go on without arriving anywhere.

Long story short, I enjoy sex the most when he literally minds his own damned business. If we fake orgasms, it’s to help you with your insecurities. But you being grown-ass men, you should just get over them and focus on your own pleasure rather than worrying about how she likes it when you angle your dick this or that way.

And no, I am not advocating rape here.

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