Monday, 30 January 2006

My top 5 least sexy moments ever

I am not talking the mildly embarrassing and sometimes off-putting stuff that always happens during sex; fanny farts, wet spots you have to sleep in and occasional whiffs of body odour from various body parts.

Nor am I talking about ill-advised things people do, such as take off their boxer shorts before their white tennis socks. Mind you, that one is almost up there. Definitely top ten at least. I don't know what it is about men in only their socks. It's just wrong.

I am talking the kind of experience that leaves you mentally scarred for years, to the extent that each time you think of them you find yourself unable to contemplate sex for at least a couple of hours afterwards.

So, in order of ascending awfulness:

My least sexy experiences ever...

5. The first time a boy came in my mouth.
I loved him, I loved sucking on him, but oh dear, how unprepared I was for that enormous shot of phlegm-like, funny tasting substance being thrusted deep into my throat.

I've since learned to live with it, and positively like it, but that first time... I lay still until he passed out (which fortunately didn't take long), then went to the bathroom and washed my mouth out like a good Catholic girl would. I imagine.

Nuff said.


4. Watching George Galloway pretending to be a cat on CBB
I don't watch the programme itself, but now he's been ejected, I've been treated to the clip repeatedly on the news.

News24. Please. Just. Don't. Watching Kennedy resign was bad enough.

If this keeps happening, I think I'll just opt for that programme about UK club girls showing their spaniel-ear boobs on Men and Motors, please. It's just that much more sexy.


3. My middle aged, overweight, smelly overbearing boss feeling my leg up
...and then claiming he'd done nothing wrong. Even the mention of his name makes me feel ill even though this was years ago.

2. The nude photoshoot I did with an ex boyfriend
Not having received an 'E' at A-level art to deter him, Ex thought he was somewhat of a photographing artiste [said with French accent]. I think he sensed our relationship wouldn't last, and thinking I was the woman of his dreams, he wanted to take some pictures.

I didn't see any reason to deny him as I've never been ashamed of my body, and I knew he was after 'aesthetically pleasing nudity' rather than hardcore stuff.

So I showed up in the freezing cold studio, helped rig the lights and spread the props he'd told me to bring on a blanket. Nothing onerous, just some scarves and items of clothing.

And then he wanted me to pose. "Well, you'll have to tell me what to do," I said, never having gotten the chance to model (why, you ask? Well so do I).

"Whatever makes you feel comfortable," he said.

Right. I'm not a model or an actress; I can't fake sensuality if I don't feel any. And looking at him there, a mediocre artist oblivious to his mediocrity, acting like he was all big-time, was just the biggest turn-off ever.

I look at the photos now, and I look beautiful, but there is no warmth in them, no sensuality or eroticism. I'm like a nude plastic sculpture or doll.

It got worse. He himself seemed to find this quite arousing and talked me into sex on the floor, which was uncomfortable, freezing cold and so on. I don't know why I agreed to it, although calling it 'barely consensual sex' would be wrong, because I didn't mind at all. I just didn't see / feel the point.

As revenge for this completely unarousing episode, I talked him into letting me take some photos of him as well. He was so insecure about his body he made me blow him first so he would look bigger.

Never again. He was and probably is an absolutely lovely guy who was just wrong for me, and if ever there was an episode which should have made me realise this earlier than I did, this one is pretty high on the list.


1. The time I tried to unsuccessfully bring off a guy by hand that I really didn't want to be naked with in the first place
None beyond, none anywhere near touching the sheer awfulness of this one.

Well, being decent teenagers we weren't properly naked to begin with, I still was wearing underpants, and we'd been snogging for a while before I worked my way to his nether regions.

He was average sized but very hard and there was nothing spectacular; he'd been ogling me for ages and I felt I'd let him on, and never wanting to be a tease figured I could get away with just a hand job.

I kept at it for ages, and looking back I realise shamefully that my technique might have left something to be wanted. Add to this his nervousness; he really liked me, the poor guy. I could tell he was straining to cum, groaning with pleasure but also with pain cause it was taking so long.

After what seemed ages, he panted in my ear, "you've almost got it now..." Those words still ring in my ear now. The feeling of humiliation, of failure, shame, was so immense.

This basically kept me from distributing hand jobs, more than the absolute minimum required in foreplay without seeming like a complete blowjob slut, for years until I was trained by gay ex (who of course also had things to say about handling cum in your mouth. Gay ex, men around the world are unknowingly indebted to you).


"Almost got it". Eurrrghh... If only J knew just how upsetting I found this, he would never need to claim having a headache again, he could just say those words.


Yes, I know, it's a wonder I'm not mentally scarred for life. I'm a fighter, me.

7 comments:

  1. I can somewhat relate to some of these. LOL What a great topic and great stories!

    ReplyDelete
  2. This post is pure gold.

    Why does sex have to be fraught with so many god-damn emotional pitfalls?

    This is why I prefer having sex with complete strangers.

    ReplyDelete
  3. "It's a wonder I'm not mentally scarred for life."

    Errr... are you sure?

    ReplyDelete
  4. Thanks for visiting my site and the tips to improve it.
    You write very well, great site here.

    ReplyDelete
  5. How human are you? Very adorable kiddo!

    Though I might just be mentally scared after reading your tales of mirth and woe.

    ^_^

    ReplyDelete
  6. I am not scarred! I think... err... At least I don't have my own psychiatrist. Yet.

    And wbh; is that 'scared' as in 'terrified'.. ;o)

    And sex with complete strangers can be just as bad, only thing is you don't have to be reminded of it every time you meet them again.

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  7. I have reviewed your records as I said I would and it does seem that you have been getting it enough. I think perhaps you simply take great pleasure in the finer things in life. Have no worries, kind beauty. Your compassion for mankind brings me to my knees.

    ReplyDelete

Thanks for not just lurking..

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