As we mentioned last week, sex isn’t always perfect. Here’s a story about a couple that’s learned how to work with that. We also want to hear your best — or worst — stories of sex gone wrong for our Scary Story Contest. You’ve got a few more days to enter to win a $250 gift certificate!
As a heterosexual couple (a bisexual woman and a privately kinky man), having non-penetrative sex feels subversive sometimes. I love masturbating in front of him and performing with sex toys. Sometimes I will beg for his fingers to fill me up because I want that feeling, but I usually need a little more direct stimulation to get off. And no matter how amazing my orgasms can be, I want him to come too.
Erectile Dysfunction is said to affect up to 40% of men at some point in their life, but among my lovers over the past year it seems closer to 60% right now. My primary partner’s doctor originally diagnosed him with “whiskey dick” because of his excessive drinking, but the situation is much more complex than that. Antidepressants, smoking, and generally poor nutrition are all likely factors in his case. We’ve tried working on all of those things, but haven’t had much luck.
My libido is fairly predictable with my hormonal cycles. I want to fuck and fuck hard and fuck well. I want to come hard on his cock and muffle my screams in his sheets while we screw. I am a selfish and generous lover. If I want sex in the evening, I start seducing him early. A dirty text in the morning, a Snapchat in the afternoon, and a distraction free bedroom help. My best bet seems to come if I catch him with morning wood. He can usually get hard if I go down on him, but it doesn’t last and he can’t come. In general, we’ve come to rely on planning for a sensual night and focusing on other pleasures while we sort it out. I’ve eliminated some of the doubt he might feel about my desire by expressing it consistently over time.
Without planning ahead or trying to squeeze in a quickie before work, sensation play has come to the forefront of our relationship. Sensation play can take many forms, from gentle caressing (we have a whole vocabulary of what I like on my back, “the spider thing”, “the squeezy thing”, “super light! lighter!”) to full on switches and paddles to his cute ass when it’s my turn.
We’ve maintained a close, sensual relationship that doesn’t reflect what we’d read about partners who become distant during their involuntary celibacy. We’ve found that displays of affection, both public and private, have helped maintain our bond despite our unmet desire for accessory-free penetrative genital sex.
We’re trying some of the drugs doctors prescribe for ED, but without any remarkable results. Both of us have had to come to the truth that it’s not about our attraction for each other, or fantasies we’ve explored, or the chemicals we put into our bodies.
The truth is ED cannot be summed up like that. Whether the root cause is psychological or physical, erectile dysfunction is a sad misunderstood critter sulking in our sexual zoo, one that doesn’t get enough attention from the visitors and feels overwhelmed by attention from doctors. We’re still figuring it out with patience, unquenchable horniness, a few toys to keep us busy, and lots of love.