So despite The Pedant being all obtuse and exasperating in my last post, I do have a couple of minor triumphs to report.
Our first sex of the recent visit was missionary style. It’s the horndog week of my cycle, which makes penetration feel really really good, so I was moaning a lot more than is typical for me during intercourse-without-clitoral-stimulation. After he came, The Pedant asked “So…if that had gone on longer, could you have come from it?”
Which, yes, he’s totally still working from the default idea that his magical penis will give all the orgasms, and yes, I’ve told him before that only external clitoral stimulation will make me come. But the point is…he ignored me all those times that I tried to tell him how my body works. And now he’s at a point where he’s receptive and willing to listen – and to actually ask me what I need. I literally cannot remember him ever, ever asking me what I like/need/want in bed. No “do you like what I’m doing right now?” no “what should I know about how to make you orgasm?” no “do you have external clitoral-type orgasms or vaginal orgasms or some other kind?” – nothing.
During a different sex session on day 2, he started very obviously being stuck in a holding pattern of this-feels-good-but-I’m-not-gonna-come. And after 5-10 minutes of this he said “I think I need a rest.” He’s never said that to me before of his own accord. He used to get stuck in orgasm limbo like that for hours and refuse to give up on it even when I prompted him (and, spoilers – I was prompting him because my hands/legs/whatever were tired as shit and I wanted to stop). It’s like he considered an inability to come to be a slight against his manhood or some shit, and refused to admit to it. Now he’s able to talk about it like a normal person.
Also, ever since I wrote him that email telling him he was obtuse and awful at bedroom stuff and outlining what I need that he had been ignoring, he hasn’t tried to splay or bend my legs during the orgasm-giving process, or touch my clitoris directly, or put lube on it (what gets me off is moving the hood against the clitoris, and lube totally kills the friction that I need). Actually he sort of hasn’t tried to give me orgasms at all since we got back together; I announce that I want one by grabbing the Hitachi and just…starting. He provides additional moral support, g-spot stimulation, and pettings. I think he might be afraid to try to touch me. I’m annoyed with his lack of initiation on principle but in practice I’m afraid to let him touch me, too, so it kind of works out. And I can’t blame him for being tentative, all things considered.
And reading over past posts, damn, The Pedant used to do all the cheesy romance movie tropes that women as a hive mind are supposed to like: backing me up against shit or bending me backwards to kiss me passionately; getting behind me and twisting my head around to kiss him; aggressively taking my clothes off while making out with me. Just generally showing me what a manly in-control manly dominant manly man he was. All taking the lead and whatnot. I hate all that shit, and I hated it double because it felt so contrived, from him. I mean he wouldn’t just push me against a nearby wall and kiss me; we’d be in the middle of the living room and he’d put his hands on my shoulders and slowly walk me backward ten feet to get to a wall, maintaining super-intense “yeah baby you like that uh-huh” eye contact the whole time. I just kind of went along with it because I was waiting for that point where he would forget himself, drop his defences, and just start reacting naturally. He’d always get there almost immediately once I started touching his nipples – an instant and total switcheroo from being the Trope-master General to being authentically himself. No more artifice. No more trying to steer me around or demonstrate how masterful he was at…anything. Just moaning.
But he seems to be himself pretty much the entire time, now. Which is lovely. I don’t know if he’s gotten over the whole romance-novel bodice-ripping cad act in general or if he just finally realized it’s pointless with me, but I’m glad to be making out with the real him. It would be hot if I were the only person to see this side of him…a lot of women assume that men’s bodies are impervious to foreplay and don’t even try to do much of anything beyond kissing and dick-touching, so it’s entirely possible that most of The Pedant’s partners have never put him in that gorgeous writhing nonverbal state that I can get him to, now, with just one caress. I kind of hope it’s only me. I want to be the only one to make him lose his mind like that. I want to be the best fuck he’s ever had. I want him to be addicted to my touch.
*Cough*cough*Ahem*. Anyway. Tiny increments of progress.