This morning, while checking my e-mail before work, I saw “9 Weeks to Better Sex: Week 3.” Fuck. I have put this off all week. It’s time to man up, grab this stupid history by its balls, and get it over with. To do it by standard, it would be ridiculously long (it already is). Therefore, I have taken the liberty of eliminating the boring stuff, the stuff that doesn’t matter, and posting what counts. For good or bad. For those of you who read Week 2, you know I was anxious to do this. And I still don’t know why. It’s not like there are horrible, dark secrets (secrets though, nonetheless). But I’ve done some shitty things (haven’t we all) that I don’t want to be honest with myself about… But it is time for a cathartic letting go. Without further ado…
My Sexual History (the abridged version)
- Sexual Education: Who did you learn about sex from, who had influences on you?
When I was 10, my mom gave me a little paper book on sex, the kind you get at the doctor’s office. It had pencil drawings of a vagina and penis. It talked about periods and conception. I remember it had a green cover. Needless to say, this didn’t teach me much that I didn’t already know. So where did I really learn about sex… From my mom’s Playgirl magazines and my dad’s vintage Playboys and Penthouses. My parents divorced before I can remember, and it’s interesting that I discovered both of their dirty magazines within a month or two of each other. Maybe that when I started snooping. Who knows. Anyway. I fell in love with the stories. Became addicted to them. I would stay up all night reading and looking at dirty pictures. So, at 10 years old, I learned about sex from porn magazines. And Penthouse Forums.
- Sexual Influences: Who/What influenced your sexuality and sex life? Family, friends, culture, religion…
This is a loaded question. And hard to answer. But I’m going to try to do it in as little space as possible. First, my mother is kind of nuts. (Aren’t they all?) I’m fucking lucky I’m as well-adjusted as I am. I was once grounded during my Freshman year of high school for not drinking wine with breakfast. When I was in 8th grade, I had condom lollipops in my Easter Basket. When I brought my first “real” boyfriend home (who I also lost my virginity to), my mom was cleaning squirrels in the kitchen sink. She called him into the kitchen, pulled out the squirrels testicles and squished them in her bare hands while talking to him. Apparently he didn’t get the picture because within two weeks he was fucking me anyway… Obviously my mom had an impact on me, although I don’t know for sure what it is… Maybe my love of porn. Maybe my admiration for a hard cock (you do have to love Playgirl). Maybe my willingness to say it how it is.
Then there is the fact that I spent most of my time with my dad’s parents (as my mom was gone every weekend, drinking, partying, I don’t really know what she was doing), my nana and papa. My nana is a Cradle Catholic. She’s devout. She’s pure. And yet, she puts up with me to this day. Although she does try to push me to go to confession (come on, you know if I went, the damn
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priest would be in there beating off…). The catholic upbringing adds its own dimension, and, unless you’ve done it, or been close to someone who has, it’s hard to verbalize… I’m really not going to try. Just understand that under all the kinky, hyper-sexual craziness, I still have a fucking St. Christopher’s metal hanging from my rear view mirror.
One thing that really pisses me off about coming from an extremely large extended Catholic family… When I was 14, my cousin Paul died from AIDS. He was a gay man, and back then AIDS (and being gay apparently) were shameful things. Things to hide from. I remember when he got really sick, with facial lesions, just a waif of the man he once was, my great-aunt (his mother) telling me that if people asked, I was to tell them he had cancer. Looking back, I just want to spit in her fucking face… Enough said.
- Milestones: When did you reach your sexual milestones? Are there any you haven’t yet reached?
The first time I fooled around with anyone, I was five and it was the neighbor girl. She had black, silky hair. I remember that, but for the life of me I can’t remember her name! We laid in my bed, naked, kissed, and rubbed our legs on each other’s “privates.” I don’t remember how it started. I don’t remember who suggested it. I don’t actually even remember doing it. When I think about it, I see us, laying there, in the corner of my room, with my Smurf blanket pulled up over our heads. Like I’m watching it, instead of experiencing it. I do remember it being uncomfortably warm under that blanket. All steamy like and hard to breathe.
Fast forward two years to my next sexual experience. I had upgraded from a twin bed to a water-bed. Another neighbor girl (this one with dirty blonde hair) and I had played all day. She mentions how she just watched this movie. Something a bout a “Fish Called Wanda” she said (and I just need to say that I think Jamie Lee Curtis looks fucking hot as shit for her age!). She said, “Let me show you what they were doing.” We took off our clothes. I laid down on the bed. She got between my legs, grabbed both my ankles, and pulled them into the air in a giant “V.” It makes me laugh to think of this. Truly, I am sitting here laughing as I type…
I lost my virginity at 14. October 21st, 199*. To the boy who witnessed the squirrel nuts. He was 18 and a senior. I thought I was cool as shit. I was babysitting (don’t worry, the kids were asleep). The Fox and The Hound was on TV. Right in the middle of everything, a friend of ours walked in the living room, where we were laying on the couch, with a giant, 18 inch zucchini sticking out of his pants, asking which one of us wanted to suck his dick. What the fuck!
I started sleeping with my BFF shortly thereafter. I called her the other day and asked her when the first time we fucked around was. She thought it was Superbowl Sunday of our Freshman year. I don’t know. I think it was earlier than that. But, regardless, she and I were off and on for the next four years…
Milestones I haven’t reached… I’d really like to have a MMF. I’d like to experience double penetration…
- Solo Sex: What are your earliest memories of masturbation? How has your masturbation changed with time?
I talked about my early masturbation before in A Guide to Female Masturbation. Check it out if you want. This post is long without retelling it. But understand, riding something was the only way I could cum for years. Years. Even now, damn near 20 years after I started masturbating,
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sometimes I still have trouble getting off with just touching myself, rubbing my clit. Even last night (damn Valentine’s day) I ended up having to straddle something while watching Dominic stoke himself. I wish it wasn’t that way, but I don’t know how to fucking fix it…
One thing that I can’t do, that I SO wish I could, is make myself squirt. M can do it. But I just can’t figure that shit out. (I’m open for advice ladies, if you have any!).
Through my whole childhood, until I moved out (got kicked out) at 17, we had horses. I remember being very young and always moving myself against the saddle a little more than necessary. Doing little pelvic circles…
- Difficulties: What are your experiences where mind, body, emotions didn’t work like you wanted?
Goodness. Sex when I’m pregnant is weird. Thank god I’m done having kids! The first two pregnancies, I would be an emotional wreck. We’d be in the middle of a great fuck session, and I would just break out in tears. I’d make M stop. And then I wouldn’t even know why. With the last one, it wasn’t that bad. But it was only about getting off. I wouldn’t want to be touched. I didn’t want to be kissed. I would literally just get on the bed on my hands and knees with my ass in the air and wait for M to stroke himself until he was hard enough to fuck me. While he didn’t necessarily like it when I was like that, at least I wasn’t breaking into tears in the middle of head…
- Trauma: What sexual traumas have you experienced? Have you told anyone about it? How did it influence you?
I’m simply cutting and pasting this from a comment I made a few weeks ago…
To be involved in S/M, there has to be trust. I remember, long ago, with a boy I dated, we were into kink, more so than I am now (maybe this situation is why my desires have changed…). One time we were in a hotel, and he had my hands pinned above my head. I don’t really remember what happened, but I remember asking him to stop, over and over again. “Stop” was our safe word, which, in hindsight, was stupid. He didn’t. I remember fighting against him, then giving up, just laying there while he fucked me, tears streaming down my face. When he finished, he couldn’t understand why I was upset. He said “This is what we talked about. This is what you wanted.” When I disagreed, saying something about never wanting to be raped, he just got pissed off.
And have I ever told anyone? I’ve just told you, dear reader.
I’ve had two STDs. HPV and Chlamydia. And I’ve had very limited sexual partners. Although I’m
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sad to say that I wasn’t a big fan of condoms and I was not very good about protecting myself. But I have learned that lesson the hard way…
- Other randomness that came up while I was writing… (Because the questions above are probably only about 1/3 of what their was)…
When I gave birth to my youngest child, I induced myself with Castor Oil. It made my contractions come on very strong, and from the time my water broke until I delivered was less than 5 hours. When it came time for the actual delivery, the doctor is down there between my legs. He keeps putting a few fingers into me, and running them around my effaced cervix (at least that’s what I think he was doing… Helping to soften the cervix so the head can come through easier). He kept hitting my G-Spot, and sending chills through my body. Unbelievable chills. It would make me arch up off the bed. Understand that it was a natural delivery. No epidural. And the induction made the contractions worse than ever before… They would come one on top of the other, with only a few seconds between them. So there was this constant immense pain, that would be followed by this huge jolt of sexual pleasure. It was one of the weirdest experiences of my life. I wonder if he knew what he was doing… Hmmm….
The boy I mentioned above, during trauma, I dated for six and a half years. And the worst thing about it. The second time I fucked him (the first time was a fluke… the second time was how we started dating) was to hurt my BFF. Because she had sex with him and I was mad at her. I did it right in front of her. Literally. I rode him on my bed, while she sat along the wall in my bedroom, silently crying. I’m a bitch. And a bad friend. And I’m not sure, but this might be the first time that I’ve ever told anyone about this…
But don’t feel to bad for the BFF. Six years later, we were all grown up. I went to bingo with my cousins. I get home at one in the morning, trying to walk quietly into the house. As I start-up the stairs to our bedroom, my then boyfriend meets me at the top of the stairs, butt-ass naked. He quickly grabs me and pushes me into the bathroom. When I asked him what the fuck was going on, he informs me that he was fucking my BFF while I was playing bingo. Nice. What goes around, comes around.
2009 was a bad year for M and I. I had just started a new job. I worked crazy hours. I was mandatedall the time. We had two kids under two. It was the fourth year of our marriage, and by far the hardest. M started to get jealous. I don’t really know about what. He started going through my phone. Second guessing what I told him. It progressed from October of 2008 into the Summer of 2009. He kept claiming I was having an affair. Looking to find something that wasn’t there. During all of this, I had extremely low self-esteem. I still had a ton of pregnancy weight on (I had gained 100 pounds between the back to back pregnancies). I did not feel sexy. At all. M was pushing me away. It was bad. So, after being accused over and over again of having an affair, I decided I would do it. There was a guy. A guy I knew. He was a man whore. He had hit on me multiple times. He hit on anything with two legs (and some with four). But he made me feel good about me. He told me I was sexy. He told me I has hot. He made me feel like I was hot. Somethings happened. But, no, I never did fuck him. I probably would have. Who am I kidding, if things had kept going the way they were, I definitely would have fucked him. He was safe (married with three kids). I never told M. I don’t think I ever plan to. And I know this is going to sound like complete denial and justification, but things came to a head with M and I while I was on my way to a softball game one night. He told me in a text that he wanted a divorce. I still didn’t come home. I sat in the McDonald’s parking lot in a nearby town for two hours. It was 1 in the morning by the time I finally came into the house. M was still up, we talked. M cried. It was
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the only time in almost ten years I’ve seen him cry. He opened up about somethings. We made the decision that we were going to work on things. And we did. And things got better. It was a lot of hard work and it took a lot of dedication. But things now are great. Every now and again, I get overwhelmed with this guilt about the situation. I hate myself for it. Hate myself. Hate what I did. But it was the catalyst that pushed us into working on our marriage. I don’t know if we would have made it through that year otherwise. Don’t hate me, dear reader. Me, the girl who stands on her little ivory tower. Telling you all how to do this and how to do that, because “look at me — I’m in this fantastic marriage.” And I came so close to fucking it all up.
Anyway… So there you have it people. The abridged version of my sexual history. Sorry for the length. I’m sorry it’s not that exciting. It’s not filled with liaisons and kink and fantasy role-plays. But it’s the truth. It’s the path that led me here. The path that made me into the girl who loves sex, is completely distracted by it, and likes to fuck her husband’s brain out.
(woo-hoo), and a sore pussy from it one morning. So there was more sex through the week (which wasn’t too hard to figure out… I just had to change my schedule a bit; stop what I’m doing when M goes to bed, fuck, then get back up and finish whatever it was that I was doing. Not rocket science, but just putting a little more effort towards having sex). Still no morning sex. M gets up at 5, me at 6:30ish (which actually means 7). A lot of nights, especially recently, I don’t go to bed til 1 or 2. I may be motivated, but I’m not that motivated! 
