Fun with anorgasmia

I began tapering off Prozac at the end of last year, and now, for the fist time in about three years, am SSRI free. It had stopped working for me, so I’m feeling pretty much the same as I was before, which is to say depressed, but managably so. I have good days, where I get shit done, and bad ones, where I don’t. Unless I use a ridiculously magnanimous definition of shit. [Moved a dirty mug from the living room to the kitchen? YAY I DID A THING

I don’t miss the side effects. Not one bit. And by the side effects I mean GENITAL NUMBNESS AND LIBIDO LOSS.

Being a smut writer is pretty hard when the idea of a nice nap is more appealing than sex. What little horniness I had transmuted into frustration, however, at the fact that the genital numbness made it really fricking hard to orgasm. Like, it would take an hour, no exaggeration, of expert fiddling to have the desired effect. It felt nice, but doing anything for that length of time gets boring. And it gets pretty annoying when reading favourite mucky blogs and pornography, and it seems like godammit everybody is having huge splurgy orgasms all over the place  at so much as a butterfly whispercurrent of air over their glans.

I began feeling disingenuous over my writing, too. I write about orgasmic characters because that’s what I want to read, but I felt like I was betraying myself at the same time, adding to a problem of depicting orgasmicness as normative. Not all sex needs to terminate with one or both partners cumming, but when writing stories it’s hard to deviate from having a beginning, middle and a drippy, satisfying end.

As I mentioned, I stopped taking the pills before I completely resolved the issue, but here are some things that helped me out.

But first: I’ll cop to being a well read hypochondriac with some experience in this area, but I’m not a doctor; talk to somebody who is. Sometimes side effects are genuinely better than the alternative, but make sure you’re not suffering unduly.

• Accept that sex, whether partnered or solo, is going to be different from now on. And probably worse, but not necessarily.
• Speaking of partners, it’s important to let them know that your anorgasmia isn’t their fault. People tie up a lot of their self esteem in their ability to pleasure a partner, and if they don’t understand this it will make them feel bad. This is not conductive to good sex.
• Regard sex as something that is necessary for your well being, like exercise or brushing your teeth. Set aside time for it. I used a habit tracker to make sure I gave it attention every day.
• Working by yourself can be a lot easier than partnered sex, at least until you find the combination of techniques that works.
• Try different toys or ways of touching yourself and note which ones work. Yes, note. I kept my notes on a secret text file with a suitably boring fake name.
• If you find a particularly titillating piece of porn, save it! It’s amazing how hard it can be to find that one video or story if you just close the window when you’re done.
• I found that I quickly became over stimulated and lost erogenous sensation; so I had to stop and start a lot. Warming up slowly also helped.

Good luck!

Thoughts

It’s been a long time since I thought about him, longer still since i dreamed about him. but now I’m imagining him bending me over a table with one big hand wrapped round my mouth and the other rubbing away on my clit. I’m quite naked but he hasn’t bothered to disrobe, just a bit of his furred flat stomach showing beneath the waistcoat and his fly open. My bare tits rub back and forth on the table so that I have to bite my knuckles to keep quiet, or risk waking the house. He cums on my exposed back and walks off. When he reappears he’s nude. He throws me a towel and wordlessly nods at the shower.

A teaser from my new ebook, The Merger

She began by kneeling and taking his shoes off. He seemed a little shocked by this subservient move, but he sat up and gazed down at her, a little smile dancing around his eyes. There was something primal about being at a man's feet like that, and she found herself playing up the "slave girl" aspect, looking back at him with wide eyes, slipping off his shoes and socks reverently, and then kissing the soles of his feet.

"That's nice, but there's something I'd rather have you kissing." He drew his belt through the buckle and unbuttoned his fly.

His cock resembled the rest of him: golden, tall, its broadness echoing the spread of his shoulders. She grasped it in her hand, marvelling at how small and white her hand looked wrapped around his flesh. The ruby tip was wet with his arousal and seemed to throb almost visibly with his pulse. As her lips wrapped around his cock head, he exhaled sharply, and his hips lifted off the bed. His cock lurched into her mouth, almost to the hilt. She had had the idea of slowly teasing his cock with her tongue and lips, but he clearly wanted to fuck her face. And she was nothing loath. She put her hands behind her back and gazed up at him again with that same wide eyed look. After her tightly organised days and weeks, putting control into his hands was delicious.

He started thrusting fairly gently to begin with, but before long he had her head in his hands, his fingers tangling through her hair, forcing her to move to his rhythm. Lydia could barely breathe, but wouldn't have had him stop for the world. Her hand crept back to her nipples, tugging and pinching on them alternately while her other fingers rubbed at her clit. Before long, from the oxygen deprivation as well as the sheer horniness of the situation had her bucking and shuddering under his hands. He kept pumping into her mouth, slowing his pace as her orgasm subsided.

"That was so hot Lydia, watching you come with my cock in your mouth." he growled. He stood and pressed her close to him again, his cock pushing hot and hard and wet into her stomach. He tipped her face up to inspect it. "Look at yourself," he said, that smile twinkling about his face again. Lydia looked in the dressing table mirror, and barely recognised herself. Her carefully styled hair was tangled and ruffled, her eyes were watering, and her lips were swollen from the fucking they had just endured. She wore only her knickers, the crotch darkened by her arousal. The sight made her horny again. "I can't believe that's the same ice queen who walked into the board room this morning. Come on, it's time to take those knickers off.” He picked her up easily, plopped her down on the bed, and pulled off the scrap of fabric. She let her legs spread, so that he could see every inch of her. His head lowered between them, and his tongue flickered out snakelike to taste her dew. He slid a finger inside her, and his eyes widened as he felt how wet she was. "You really like giving head, huh?"

"When it's like that," she purred back from thickened lips.

"You like getting your face fucked." he replied softly, straddling her and sliding his cock between her tits.

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