He Said Something Stupid and Stole My Orgasm

Photo by VadimGuzhva on Adobe Stock

When I met Kurt, I was a healthy mid-thirties woman with a raging libido and a passion for my career. On our first date, I created a diagram of the brain’s parts responsible for learning to read. I showed him what dyslexic brains look like and why that makes reading more difficult. I also diagramed the ways proper instruction can fix those neuropathways. To put it lightly, I completely nerded out. 

But, Kurt dug it, and, later, when he fingered me in the front seat of his car, he was impressed with the way my body responded (quickly) and was eager to see me again. 

Kurt lives near our family’s beach house, about three hours from our home. The beach house is decidedly seasonal- it lacks insulation and proper heating. So, I thought we’d occasionally see each other when I visited his areas in the summer, but, as luck would have it, Kurt enjoys road trips that end with sex, so he was willing to drive to me occasionally.

 This past summer, when our family visited the beach house, I made plans to meet with Kurt. I hadn’t seen him in about six months and, during that time, my health had become a constant struggle. He knew the basics of that but wasn’t privy to all the details. 

Kurt picked me up around 8:00 PM after I’d tucked the littlest human into bed, and the other kids sat down for game night with my husband. (At this point, driving at all isn’t something I’m capable of, but at that time, nighttime driving was my limit). 

We chatted about our spouses and kids and how we’d fared during the quarantine. We prophesized about what a COVID winter might look like and ultimately decided to grab a drink and appetizer before going to the hotel. 
When I see someone regularly, I’m delighted to show up at their place or a hotel room wearing nothing but a trench coat and a smile. However, when there’s been more time between visits, I like catching up, some flirting, and a natural flow to naked time. I want us to seduce each other all over again. 

Kurt has always been up for the task, and this time was no different. We finished our drinks and walked along the boardwalk back to our hotel. By the time we made it to the room, his hand on my lower back and our occasional stops to press our lips together had me spun up. 

But Kurt took his time. In the room, I was ready to discard my clothes and jump into bed. Kurt grabbed my hands to stop me from removing my shirt while his teeth grazed my neck. 

“Stop pretending you’re in charge,” he whispered, shifting and clasping my hands in one of his larger ones. 

I like this dynamic between the two of us. Kurt is naturally dominant, and I tend towards the submissive side of the spectrum. My relationship with him gave me a safe place to try out some of that. 

I giggled and tried (sort of) to get my hands free. Kurt held tight, his free hand roaming around the waistband of my skirt, playing with the strip of skin my crop top left bare. 

Kurt’s hand teased my breasts beneath my shirt as he continued to assault my neck with the contrast of his soft beard and nipping teeth. I melted back into him, and his hand slipped to my skirt. The satin puddled, shimmering around my feet as I turned to him. 

Kurt placed his hand under my chin, tilting my face up and lightly brushing my lips with his. His lips continued to consume mine as he walked me backward toward the bed. 

I’d like to say I gracefully landed on the bed, but in reality, I tripped and fell backward, accidentally kneeing my friend in the groin. Luckily we’re both capable of laughing through the awkwardness, and he recovered quickly. 

Kurt lifted my shirt over my head, and his fingers fumbled with my bra hook. I know that in erotic stories, men deftly unhook bras with one hand. In my experience, it’s more like teeth banging against each other while you try to keep kissing while his hands fumble behind your back. Eventually, you reach back and unhook it for him. 

This is real-life sex, so we trip, our teeth occasionally hit one another, and bras are tricky bastards. 

Kurt pinned my hands above my head with his left hand and used his right to send electric currents through my body. He let his fingers play over my breasts and down to my hip. Kurt knows my hips are sensitive and spent some time playing with them and enjoying the way I ground against him in response. 
When he finally let his fingers brush against my vulva, I quivered in anticipation. 

“I love how responsive your body is,” Kurt whispered in my ear as he opened my folds to tease my clit.

Here’s the thing about chronic illness- my body is always changing. Even more so that your average woman. Sometimes having my breasts touched feels good. Sometimes it makes me cringe in pain. Sometimes my hips are mobile happy to reverse cowgirl for hours. Sometimes not so much. 

Sometimes, thanks to neuropathy, my nerves don’t always respond to touch the same way. Hubby and I roll with it and haven’t slowed our dancing between the sheets much. I also have some regular partners who decided that when I’m up to it, sex with me rates well enough that working through some pain or mobility issues isn’t a problem. 

Kurt, however, proved he was not one of those men. 

I typically have a hair-trigger orgasm that never stops once it gets going. When my 8000 nerve endings were all in tip-top shape, I could orgasm virtually on command.

Now, it sometimes takes a bit of work. I still orgasm every time my clit buzzes, but it’s not as immediate.

“You’re not as orgasmic as you used to be,” Kurt pushed up on his elbow.

“I told you that earlier. I have some nerve damage, and chronic pain doesn’t help either,” I responded.

I tried to get back into things after that, but I became too self-conscious about my lack of orgasm. Kurt stopped trying to help me orgasm, and he left me fingering myself while we rolled around. Then, Kurt had some erectile issues and was unwilling to work through them by taking penetration off the table. I asked him to drive me home.

I never texted Kurt back after that night, and he stopped reaching out. It’s not as if I’m angry about his lack of sensitivity, rather, my time is limited, especially my playtime with alternative partners, so I don’t want to waste it on someone who doesn’t feel good to be around. My guess is that he didn’t intend his comment to come across as crass or rude, but the truth is, it hurt.

When a woman is having trouble achieving orgasm, she knows it; she doesn’t need you to tell her. And pointing it out, as if it’s a flaw in her behavior or character, will not advance anyone towards a goal of ecstasy. It’s more likely to shut things down entirely. 

I can also promise you that if a woman spends any time pleasuring herself, she is intensely aware of what feels good to her and what doesn’t. If she’s experiencing some sexual dysfunction for some reason, I can assure you she’s intensely aware of that fact as well. Just as pointing out the loss of an erection does nothing to help a man regain function, discussing the problems a clit is having will only make it hide further.

If you’re with a woman who is having trouble achieving orgasm despite your best efforts, it might be time to bring up the use of a vibrator or let her focus on pleasuring you for a while.

The fact is there is a vast menu of sexual activities available when two or more people decide to get naked together. Just because something worked in the past doesn’t mean you always have to use that method. That sounds incredibly boring.

Oh, and don’t worry, Kurt may have stolen my orgasm, but I got it back fairly quickly once I got home to my vibrator and Hubby.

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