After the hand job, The Pedant announced that he was going to take a shower. I announced that I was going to see how many more orgasms I could have. He got a hilarious “Wait…what?!” look on his face and I told him that now that my body had had a break, I thought I was ready to come at least one more time – more like several, I suspected – and I was curious to see how far I could take it.
I guess this statement inflamed The Pedant’s competitive side because instead of going off to the shower and leaving me to it, he placed his hand on my chest and firmly pushed me back against the pillows, then grabbed The Hitachi and set to work on me, slipping two fingers inside me at the same time.
This is where I’m not sure how to feel about things. I’m pretty certain* I’ve told The Pedant, directly and explicitly, that in order to orgasm I need the vibrator held above the tip of my clitoris, pressing moderately firmly against the hood. If the stimulation is too hard it numbs me and if it’s too direct it overwhelms me, and then I usually end up feeling all pent up and frustrated and not being able to come. I’ve said these things to The Pedant, and yet at that moment he chose to ignore all of it and just wail on me with the Hitachi. Which would have been okay if he’d said “Do you mind if I experiment with some different things today?” – I probably would’ve said “Yeah, sure, let’s see what happens when you try stuff.” But there was no conversation about bypassing my orgasm requirements – he just did it.
But. Although The Pedant’s ministrations didn’t make me come, he gave me some really intense and interesting sensations that I’ve never felt before and am happy I got to experience. The clitoris (as I’m sure you know) is much more than just the little nub you can actually see – it extends way up inside the body and actually forks off in two directions like a wishbone. The Pedant mashed the Hitachi against my girl bits harder than I ever would have dared, and I could feel the vibration reaching deeper than I’d even thought possible. He was stimulating parts of me that had never been stimulated before, and it was causing these waves of intensity to go through me. Physical intensity and emotional intensity both.
A few different times, I felt like I was on the verge of coming – but I sensed that if I did, it would be so intense it would actually hurt. I was afraid of the pain, but more afraid of losing control. I’ve heard that some people have panic attacks centring around the idea that they’re about to “go crazy” – I sympathize with how awful that must be, but I could never relate. I mean, “go crazy”? What does that even mean? But right then, with The Pedant, I felt certain that if I let go and allowed myself to climax, my personality would disintegrate and it might not come back afterward. My mind would be wiped like a hard drive and I wouldn’t even remember who I used to be. This looks ridiculous when I see it written down, but it’s how I felt. My ever-visual, ever-helpful brain kept showing me a video-game-like image of a wall of light exploding into bits – leaving only blackness behind – every time I closed my eyes.
And so, since my orgasms tend to be a thing I will into being (in conjunction with the right physical stimulation) rather than a thing that can be inflicted upon me, I just…didn’t give myself permission to go over that edge. I simply lay there, pinned under the Hitachi, squirming and vocalizing until I started to feel kind of sore and raw and had to ask The Pedant to stop.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” The Pedant asked, turning off the Hitachi and setting it aside.
And I was like “……..” – I had no words for him. The very question he was asking seemed to be wrong. Enjoy myself? The feelings he’d given me hadn’t been good or bad per se. They’d just been…big. Have you ever touched something that was either very hot or very cold, but your body momentarily didn’t know which? Like all that registered in your skin was aaaargh extreme sensation run away run away? That’s sort of what I’d felt like. Except in my crotch. And not temperature-related. I think I did manage to nod at The Pedant by way of an answer, just so he didn’t think I hadn’t enjoyed myself, but in my heart I knew “enjoyment” vs. “no enjoyment” was not even a relevant concept here.
The Pedant either came up to lie beside me, or I pulled him up. I was pretty seriously out of it, mentally; I wanted to ask “What did you do to me?” or to somehow indicate to him how thoroughly peeled and exposed I felt – how it felt as though the walls around my personality had dissolved and if he would just look in my eyes I was sure I could melt into him somehow – but I wasn’t able to form words.
I did try to make eye contact so I could communicate some sense of oh holy shit you are amazing and I want to crawl inside your head and just live there using just my eyes, but The Pedant wouldn’t let me. He often contrives to point his head a different way after we have an intense sexual experience together, or to mash my head against his chest, or anything else that keeps us from making eye contact. I think on this particular occasion he actually turned his back to me and was the little spoon. One wonders whether he knows that intense sex makes me totally fall in love with him (albeit temporarily) and he doesn’t want to fan the flames. Maybe he really isn’t into me as anything but a friend with benefits.
Curiously, The Pedant’s savage Hitachi-ing of my privates didn’t leave me feeling frustrated. I kept tingling for quite some time afterward as though something were still vibrating against me (same principle as your legs going wobbly when you get off an exercise bike, I think) but I didn’t have the pent-up, congested feeling that I usually get from being stimulated for a long time with no release. I didn’t feel physically satisfied like I would after (an) orgasm(s), either. My body just felt…okay. Even-keeled.
So it’s not like The Pedant’s decision to ignore my “orgasm prerequisites” made me suffer or anything. He gave me sensations I’d never experienced before and made me feel ridiculously, deliriously close to him and although I didn’t come per se, I did feel fine afterward. But I’m still sort of pissed that he didn’t ask permission to do that. I’d said I wanted orgasms; he knows what he needs to do to get me there; he chose to do something else entirely, and didn’t consult with me first. I’m not traumatized or anything but it just bugs me on principle.
More to come.
*Ah yes; I remember now. I’ve explained to The Pedant what I need in order to come, and I’ve explained that when he does something else, it will often not only not result in an orgasm for me, but make me need a break for a while before we can even try again. But I never specifically said “When I want to have an orgasm you have to do the things I told you that will result in me having one. If you do other things, I probably won’t orgasm, and if I crave an orgasm and don’t have one, I will feel frustrated and cranky.” And he actually does seem to need me to connect the dots for him that blatantly or he misses the point.