My hedonist boyfriend was twenty years younger, but his below the belt mechanics didn’t always function as planned. Whether it was Wes’s nerves, his refractory period or too much wine, not all of his equipment was available at all times.
On our third date, after an awesome round of necking on the living room couch, Wes winked signaling an interest in moving to the bedroom. He poured another flute of champagne for each of us, pulled the condoms from his bag and slung me over his shoulder. Teasingly throwing me on the bed, the seduction resumed. After a few tried and true maneuvers, even I couldn’t get Wes’s big and little heads in sync or cooperating. Oops.
After some mild embarrassment and a few jokes, Wes and I made a pact. While it would take patience to learn some workarounds, the challenge was accepted. We were quick to admit that rolling with it and grinning thru the ‘lessons’ turned out to be almost more fun than the main act. I had never exposed so much to a new man. And would Wes have ever acquired such expertise with his lips and tongue, if I hadn’t have been so understanding and desirous? My upper and lower pink zones rarely got such expert attention, even from experienced lovers.
And Wes? He would never had learned that so many zones of his 6’4” rugby frame were so sensitive to a woman’s tongue, if we had been overly focused on intercourse instead of foreplay and moreplay. “So what if the penis and coreplay got left out of many rowdy romps and rolls in the hay,” I chuckled to myself. Fun times were all the more intimate with all of the secrets we knew about each other.
There were others too, who didn’t really have a goal in mind during lovemaking. Lovers who just loved humping or coming once then smooching, hovering in my moreplay zone.
While his equipment generally functioned, Mr. No-endgame Mark was often at half-mast because he insisted on conversing and making both heads function at once. He often didn’t worry about his climax, as he mainly just liked nesting his penis inside me. It was his special warm place while we petted, chatted and smooched.
Not saying that I didn’t have fond memories of orgasmic and multiple wave evenings, or lovers with lack of repose time shall we say? But the less goal-oriented the man, the harder I would fall. Because after years of believing in fairytale joint orgasms, I began to understand that wasn’t going to be the norm.
The game plan for me, if any, was intimacy, pleasure and connection. Earth shattering orgasms weren’t necessary. They were welcome, but not required. My lust for playful naked time and romantic trysts was what fueled my passion and heart.
