My Own Sex Confession (Part One)

I know you’ve all been waiting for this, one way or another.

Some of you may have been waiting for more about the subject of my blog bitching; just what did this person not want Slip to share?

Others have long wanted me to share personal stories here at the blog; tell us more about your sex life, Slip!

Well, here we deal with both.

The reader-who-shall-remain-nameless (RWSRN) brought up his discovery (and fandom) of author Deborah Sundahl. Also known as Fanny Fatale, Sundahl is a pioneer in women’s sexuality, specifically female ejaculation and g-spot — at her website, she refers to herself as “the leading expert on female ejaculation.”

RWSRN is more than smitten with her ideas. And I have some experience with the matter.

I’ve long thought I was a sexual freak. I never enjoyed clitoral stimulation much — which is to say, I like it in small doses, as foreplay not the main event. Too much is too much and it actually hurts. But ‘everyone’ said the best orgasms for women came from the clit, so that’s what ‘kind caring men’ paid attention to. And I put up with it because who could say, “No thanks,” or “I get enough clit stimulation from my labia with penetration” and not sound like a medical anomaly?

Typically I just dealt with this in subtle ways like shifting my body, pulling his face up for a kiss, or directing his cock. Once and while I’d actually have to have the conversation about why I made him stop. They didn’t believe I knew my body — based on their belief system that women came from clit play combined with my few orgasms, they thought I stopped them because I was going to come and didn’t want to. :sigh: I’d point to my orgasms with penetrations; they were convinced I faked them. It was very difficult to convince them of any other possibilities.

Eventually though, I ended up with a good man who believed me and worked with me and my body; not what ‘everybody’ else said. Naturally, I married him. (It wasn’t the only reason, but it sure was one of them!) Having a man be so attentive, having a partner in my life, and being in love makes for fantastic sex. Long story short, I eventually squirted.

Unaware at the instant it occurred, what with the wonderful other orgasmic things happening and all, I quickly discovered I had wet the bed. Much like a child who discovers the evidence of an accident, I was instantly ashamed. My husband laughed but I got up on wobbly legs, crawled to the larger than usual wet-spot and sniffed it. Nope, it wasn’t urine. I sniffed again (and this time hubby wasn’t laughing, but awaiting the verdict). No, no, that definitely wasn’t urine. What was it? Hubby pointed out the obvious, “You squirted!” He said it with such pride; but I was mortified.

To Be Continued

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