I had a boyfriend who spent about 3 hours in the gym, five days a week. He had a gorgeous body. He was built like a god. He didn’t drink or smoke so he was in top physical condition, and he had a nice big dick. Not the huge ones you don’t know what to do with, it was long enough and thick enough. Perfect body, perfect dick.

Sex with him sucked.

During the act there was no connection beyond the physical. No joining. No emotional intercourse. It felt like he approached sex as another form of physical exercise. It could have been push-ups, bench presses or whatever. I was simply another weight for him to move up and down, and the guy loved me, shame. I just don’t think he knew how to give of himself, beyond his dick, during love making. Perhaps he didn’t know that sex was not about genitals, bodies.

Here is the funny thing. I had an orgasm every single time we had sex. Not only that, I came within minutes of penetration. I think this was an anatomical accident. Our bodies were such that his dick massaged my g-spot without me needing to do any of the usual maneuvering, and I would have spectacular orgasms. My flatmate even jealously commented on it.

But the sex sucked.

Yes, it was a sure thing orgasm wise but it sucked. It had a similar emptiness you get when you use a vibrator to orgasm. There is a physical reward, but that’s pretty much it. Sort of like when you drink a meal replacement shake, you are no longer hungry but you are not really satiated. There was no joining beyond the genitals.

I know that orgasms are popularly used as the benchmark for satisfying sex, but this experience taught me that you can have orgasms and still be underfucked. I have had very satisfying, moving sex that didn’t deliver any orgasms. I once had an orgasm while giving a boyfriend (a different one) a blow job. So the orgasms clearly don’t originate from my vagina or clitoris,  only.

Sometimes when a man asks, “Did you come?” I think what he should be asking is; “Are you satisfied?” Because the two don’t always have much to do with each other, and goal oriented sex where I have to have an orgasm for a man’s egoic comfort is exhausting.

I realise as I write this that women are complex. I have to hope that the men who love us, love us enough to be inspired by our complexity instead of being exasperated or deflated by it.


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