Apparently I was off my game yesterday. The Pedant told me this morning that I’d been focusing too much attention on the head of his cock during that hand job (and during a subsequent one a few hours later) and it had been uncomfortably intense. I could swear I’ve done the same thing before and he liked it. Maybe I was too intense from the getgo this time and should have built things up slower.
Ditto with the anal stuff – he said it was too vigorous but I’ve definitely gotten to that level before and he loved it. It’s been so long since I saw him that I got overeager and started too strong, I guess.
He told me that when I was giving him that second handjob and he eventually begged off, saying I’d “worn him out,” he hadn’t meant that he was still spent from the last one. He’d meant that I’d burned out his cock from too much stimulation.
“I’m familiar with the concept from times you rammed the Hitachi right against the tip of my clit,” I said pointedly. He protested that it’s hard to orient himself and he was aiming for the side of the shaft. I told him that if you swipe at my clit upward from underneath – as he was in the habit of doing, back in the day, with the Hitachi – that’s gonna put it against the tip. Plus I would tell him “no no up a little ow” but he’d keep doing it.
We sat there for a while and I realized I was kind of seething with rage. My first instinct was to squish it down so as not to sour the visit but I feel like I’ve been doing that entirely too much lately. And anyway if I feel ragey, the visit is already soured. For me, anyway. Souring it for the other person probably won’t make it worse for me, and might even make it better.
So finally I said something like “This conversation is bringing some feelings up for me. In the past you’ve acted like I should enjoy what previous partners have enjoyed, or ignored my instructions, or there was even the time you were like ‘well, I was wearing that vibrating cock ring during sex, so why didn’t you come?’ as though literally anything touching my clit in any way should get me off. And yet, you get to have preferences. And I certainly would never sit there wailing on the head of your cock way too hard going ‘well, why aren’t you coming? I’m touching your penis, aren’t I? What’s the problem?’. Or pat you on the thigh and say ‘are you gonna come from this? I want you to come’ which is the equivalent of some of the stuff you’ve said to me.”
A few minutes passed and he didn’t say anything. I realized I didn’t really need him to say anything. I just needed him to hear me vent.
Well actually an apology would be nice. It’s been over a year since I had it out with him over his terrible sexing – and it’s come up several times since – and I’m fairly sure he’s only ever tried to dodge responsibility and make excuses, never owned up and apologized.
But I don’t think he really even grasps what he did wrong (still!) and I can’t expect an apology until he does. And maybe hearing me directly compare my body and its preferences to his – and thinking about how he’d feel if his preferences were repeatedly ignored – will finally make him get it.
So I just let my words sink in awhile and then changed the subject to happier things. I hope my words keep percolating inside his head, though.
In other news, I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how so many guys act like their sexual pleasure is a right and a given in an encounter and a woman’s pleasure is kind of “extra.” And when The Pedant and I started fooling around for the second time this visit, I decided I wanted to be the centre of attention for a while (for a change…) and I had him caress my body until I was all squirmy and happy. At which time The Pedant murmured “feeling better?” as though my wish to be, y’know, physically stimulated during makeouts instead of tending to his inert body, was this affliction or brief moment of madness and he was checking in to see if he’d cured it and things could get back to normal.
I just…I can’t with this. I can’t even.
Aside from those hiccups, my time with The Pedant made me feel recharged and generally gave me what I needed. And when I said that I’m dying for a Netflix marathon with him and I’m free all next week, he indicated that he would give me whatever day off he had.
He’s resumed his regular phone contact with me, too, presumably because he’s adhering to that list I sent of what I need to be happy with him. I sorta wonder if his insistence on taking me to sushi was part of that, as well. Him feeding me is on the list.