Dubious (Orig on FetLife -- 2015ish)

Sufferance in Tolerance

This is probably triggering, but I don't care. This is my experience that I have to live with, you just have the opportunity to read it.

Have you ever had sex that was genuinely enjoyable? Do you think that by looking at me, I have had many sexual encounters? Do you think as an African American, cis-gender demisexual woman, I’m respected? I can’t speak for all grey-sexuals, but I can share my limited sexual experience.

Being a demisexual in a world of nothing but sexual entities is difficult. Sure you can encounter ones that actually heed you when you demonstrate uncomfortable behavior and vocalize your disapproval, but that doesn’t mean everyone has the same politeness. I wanted to write this because the last encounter with a man I had, said the following to me and it has me thinking:

“Who doesn’t enjoy sex? I feel sorry for all those guys that had sex with you.”

Well, luckily I have thicker skin otherwise I would have cried on the spot. Regardless, I answered with “That doesn’t mean they knew what they were doing or cared about what I wanted.” yet the same man said “I feel sorry for you” while I responded with the nonchalant “I don’t care, it won’t change my experiences in the past or in the future.”

So here I am, to reminisce. Though soon you will realize, I shouldn’t use reminisce, but I don’t care. The names I use are zodiac signs, better off you don’t know their names.

Tatted Leo Cusp

My first boyfriend, our relationship wasn’t much of anything but sex and false promises. I lost my virginity to him in hopes it wouldn’t hinder my experience in dating. Men consider a woman’s chastity either endearing or disgusting once a certain age is hit. I dated him in hopes I could forget my first love and lose my virginity in the process, only the latter was possible. And even still, the night I tried losing my virginity wasn’t all that great. Sure I consented to it, but I could have done without the unnecessary coercion and mention that:
“Not many guys would do this, but I would because I love you.”

How romantic. Please do tell me some more, I’m only 5% turned on because I need to have some form of lubrication,

“I wouldn’t have thought about fucking a virgin until I’ve met you.”

Great. Though it took seven attempts and a whole ‘nother evening, I lost it. It was painful, annoying and something I don’t want to experience again.

Throughout the remainder of the relationship, all we did was have sex. No genuine dates, no talking about anything substantial or growth in the relationship-- regardless of how many times I asked. After the two first times, I didn’t really care about having sex. I just wanted to talk, to see if our relationship was just a fluke of magic on the internet or was it just one-sided sexual attraction. One time when I invited him over, I told him we should hang out, play video games and talk. Invited him in, and his hands were all over me. This isn’t what I wanted.

Fast forward to when he disappoints me about not wanting to do what I asked, with him undressing and then trying to finger me. “Can you not finger me so hard?”

“Shut up, you like it rough.”

Then he proceeded to enter me and I felt immediate pain, scraping my walls. I wasn’t turned on, I was irritated. I told him to stop being so rough and to slow down, only was responded with another shut up and more force, holding me down. I’m moaning as if I’m enjoying it, but I was irked he wasn’t listening to me. I was annoyed that I was being subjugated to this nonsense. My thoughts were consumed with “Why am I dating this guy?” “Why did I allow him to come over?” “Is this what rape feels like or what being ignored feels like?” After I stared off into space, he asked me where he could cum, I told him on my stomach and he did. Making some off-hand comment that someday he’ll cum in me, but I ignored him. After he put his clothes back on and I gave him gas money, he left.

I sat in my room, in a zoned out daze. Only to realize I was crying out of confusion and pain.

Long haired Aries

My “relationship” was going no where. So the last time I saw him, he said he felt insecure and incapable of offering me what I wanted. So he allowed me to date while we were together. And his idea of dating was for me to find a “stallion” to “loosen me up”. How charming. Even though I vocalized I wouldn’t and didn’t feel comfortable with the idea, but he insisted because he loved me. Or whatever early-twenty something children think is love anyway.

I met Aries on Craigslist, he knew I didn’t have a car so he was polite enough to send a cab out to my location. I never had a one-night stand and I was curious if I would even enjoy it. 95% of me knew I wouldn’t, the other 5% was simply curious to see if my demisexuality really affected me more than I was letting on.

I met him at the Renaissance hotel. He was a kind, older gentleman who didn’t waste any time once we reached behind closed doors. I told him I’ve never done this type of thing before. “Let me help with that.” He purred, and began kissing me. Full, sloppy tongue and all. Needless to say, it was disgusting and I would have figured a thirty-five year old man would know how to French kiss. And with a tongue as thick and long as his, he should have known how to better train himself.

Riding his face was a fun activity since I never got a chance to do that with anyone before. I tried to go wild and enjoy myself, but all I could mentally think “Jesus, is it over? I’m not going to orgasm with my boyfriend, what makes me think I can with him?”

Sex was had twice, painful, quick and rough. I wasn’t necessarily in the throes of passion, I was well aware of my surroundings and wondered when I could go home. I had work in the morning. I tried not to be too time conscious, but I really didn’t want to get a scant amount of hours of sleep.

In between sex, we talked, he let me play with his hair and he said he enjoyed my company. He asked “Did you enjoy yourself?” I looked too distracted and didn’t answer straight away. Merely said “It was nice.” Blue eyes looked over at me and he said “You seemed like you weren’t, I had to ask.” I’m becoming obvious, sorry I’m not great at this façade. I’ll try harder, but I appreciated that he noticed. I appreciated how he took the time to talk to me. I appreciated how he enjoyed hearing my voice and us simply embracing. Nothing sexual, just touching and discussing our lives. Listening to his sexual past, asking about what he does for work and how passionate he was about it. Even though I knew I wouldn’t see him again, I enjoyed how warm and inviting he was.

After we had sex a second time, which I made him break a sweat. It would have been glorifying if I cared about him in the intimate sense, but what’s the point? We cuddled once more, my hands in his hair. “Your hands and feet are cold.”Naturally, your entire body heats up when you’re thoroughly turned on. I was still cold there and on my ass, which is funny since we were doing missionary. “Don’t worry about me, I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“I’m supposed to give pleasure to women, I wonder if I did to you.”

You didn’t conventionally. . . but you satisfied me by talking to me and letting me play in your hair. I wanted to tell him that, but I just kissed the top of his head and allowed him to slip in and out the realms of sleep before we dressed and he called another taxi to take me home.

On the way home I knew my boyfriend couldn’t offer me the companionship some stranger did. So I knew what was next, dump him and hope he never touches me again.

After I ended my relationship, I had met another man sometime after I ended it with him. He is special enough that someday I’ll talk about him, maybe even see him again. But that’s in the distant future.

Arrogant Capricorn

Several months afterwards, I met some wealthy, over-compensating male that wasn’t interested in dating. I should’ve said no based on his sign and disinterest in dating, but! I figured I’d give him a try.

After our first sexual encounter, I knew I wasn’t going to orgasm and didn’t expect him to know how. Guys my age aren’t that experienced, no matter how many times they claim they know what they’re doing. I didn’t expect to sleep with him so soon, I told him we should hang on and his response was a simple “It’ll be fun”. Hn, for you.

When he left, he called me since it was a far drive for him. I told him I didn’t orgasm and asked if we could get to know each other more before we had sex again. He didn’t answer my second question, he quickly said “So you were faking it?” “How can I fake something that no man has ever given me?”

“You’ve never had an orgasm? You seemed like you were enjoying it.”

I guess. Just felt like something warm and hard was jabbing my cervix. It was painful. “I enjoyed it because you were enjoying yourself.” “You need to orgasm.”“That’s easier said than done.” “We’ll get there.”

You just met me, how will we get there? I can orgasm fine with my hyperactive imagination and want for someone that isn’t you. That isn’t any of the men I slept with.

We talked through more phone calls, texting and on Facebook. We were discussing sexuality and he falsely labeled me as bisexual. I had to instantly correct him and tell him that that’s not true about myself. “You had a girlfriend didn’t you? So you’re bisexual.” “There are so many other sexualities outside of hetero, gay and bisexual. Why don’t you take time to educate yourself?”

“Because I don’t care and I’m right.”

Well fuck you. So in order to keep my temper in check, because I felt as though I was going to toss my phone out the window. . . I diffused the situation and said “We’ll agree to disagree because you won’t put me in a bad mood over your ignorance.” “I’m right anyway so what does it matter?” I read the text and ignored it. I won’t stand for someone to invalidate something that is apart of my identity and the reason why I am the way I am.

Some weeks have passed, I shoved the whole conversation in the shrouds of my mind. . .though I was still pissed off about it. We had sex again, this time he was interested in listening to my instructions. Somehow, through some miracle he gave me an orgasm. He thought I was being overdramatic and I had to remind him he made me cum. He shrugged it off and resumed fucking me. It was the only orgasm I had when I was with him for the rest of the session. Him opening his mouth just made the sex feel like sandpaper, again. Great. I guess in that thirty second interval, I enjoyed myself. But once it was over, I was aware of who I was with and who was prone to irritating me. He left and that was the last I also saw of him. He was terribly unreliable, so needless to say the lack of wanting a relationship, ignorance and inability to understand I had a job and I can’t freely take days off without getting fired because of his selfish desires resulted in my blocking him and not contacting him any more.

And so we’re here, to part of the reason why I started writing this.

Cheating Virgo

I used to work with him at my current job, until he up and quit one day because of a job offer that was way better than this pit of a job. I matched up with him on Tinder just for the laugh and turns out he actually liked me back. Interesting, but hilarious. We chatted the app for a little before I called him and we reconnected. We talked on the phone for a couple hours before we decided to meet up and hang out. I asked him twice on the phone if he was single and once more over drinks. Which I will mention right now: I hate drinking. It’s gross, annoying, and I don’t like feeling tipsy or buzzed. But he insisted I try to keep up with him. Already was disliking how this was going.

We went back to his place and met his brother, and he seemed nice. But anyone that doesn’t say anything initially seems nice to me. We were talking video games some more and then he realized we had a misunderstanding in regards to if I was bringing a video game or not. I figured he had but it turns out his brother didn’t.

We came to a compromise of me watching him play Dying Light and him being awfully biased towards some characters. I was asking a lot of inappropriate questions which I didn’t find too vulgar, probably forward more than anything. I asked how many women he’s slept with. He tried to brush off the question and it irked me. What is there to be ashamed of? I vocalized that same question, adding “I’m not going to judge you.” and I had to practically force it out of him. Mind you, I say force lightly because I am inebriated at this point but if I was more sober, it would have came out quite harsh and kurt. He said he didn’t want to count a few, but the number was under twenty-five. He bounced the question back to me and I said instantly “Four.” and he had the most incredulous look.

“There’s no way!”

“What are you implying? I should have an open business at all time and allow whoever, whenever, inside?”

And he was flustered immediately, feeling like a jackass. “No, I just figured. . . you’re so beautiful--”

“Beauty is subjective and I get the worst type of attention. Sex isn’t that great. Just mechanical and anyone can do it.” Anyone can, it’s not hard as long as you have the body parts available. If I was a more sexual individual and valued physical appearance over emotions and mental capability, I would have probably slept around more. But since I don’t care, and don’t even care about 75% of the men I had already slept with, it wasn’t a big deal.

Flabbergasted, he responded with “Who doesn’t enjoy sex? I feel sorry for all those guys that had sex with you.” and I just stared at him.

“That doesn’t mean they knew what they were doing or cared about what I wanted.”

“I just. . . I feel sorry for you.”

“I don’t care, it won’t change my experiences in the past or in the future.”

And he continued to shake his head, and muttered about feeling sorry for me. I was irritated and didn’t care anymore.

“Do you even know what it’s like to have sex as someone like me? I don’t care how beautiful someone looks or how big their dick is. Those things mean nothing to me. I have only experienced one orgasm by a guy I wish I never slept with to begin with.”

“But--”

“Do you know what it feels like to have a dick inside you and you’re not even fully aroused? It feels like there’s something that doesn’t belong and it’s tearing your insides. You feel a burning sensation that most normal people would consider a potential disease, but I consider it normal because what does it honestly matter?”

“Maybe--”

“Maybe I should just hope that the next guy I sleep with will actually like me for who I am and not for my pretty face and huge tits. Maybe then I might not feel like it’s a chore to deal with them.”

“A chore?”

At this point, I ignored how he felt pity for me and my experiences. I didn’t care. I wanted this aspect of the conversation to stop because it was putting me in a bad mood. He wouldn’t understand what demisexuality was to begin with, most men don’t. And it disheartens me because that would just mean I can’t have the romance I want. I can’t get to know someone the traditional way and allow things to flourish naturally. I originally felt like I was a half-baked excuse for a woman, but the men I keep encountering are garbage and made me change my mind about the opinion I had for myself.

Some time passed, the mood lightened up and it was time to go to sleep. Earlier on the phone, he had mentioned he would sleep on the couch and I could sleep in his bed, so that he would be able to drive me to work in the morning. I had already stripped into my appropriate sleeping attire and the door opens, and he comes in.

“I thought you were sleeping on the couch?”

“Well, I want to sleep in my bed.”

“But I’m practically naked.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Of course you don't fucking mind you fuck, but I do. Why does this happen to me. Something told me nothing innocent would come from this. He was being childish, wouldn’t tell me why he kept turning over. I was clearly turning him on by just laying down on his unnecessary small twin bed. Who the fuck still sleeps on a twin? Anyway, after he was being difficult, I straddled him and was getting fed up with this childish behavior. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“. . . Nothing’s wrong.” Was said in an uncharacteristically high pitched voice and I was annoyed. I slapped his face a couple times, I felt him get harder and it would have pleased me if I was pursuing him. But I felt as though that wouldn’t be the case.

Then after some interrogation, he kissed me and then all of a sudden he was on top of me trying to undress what little of me what left. “Wait, what are you doing?” I said through the muffled kisses and I felt his dick, thick and lengthy trying to rub against me.

Why is this happening.

Suddenly he switched to me being on top and I said “I didn’t plan on having sex with you.” merely met with a “I didn’t either, but it’s good right?” He tried to enter me and I almost shrieked and clawed his shoulder. I told him I had limited sexual experience and I was serious. I was not sexually active constantly because who would I be sexual with? Who matters enough to keep my interest with such things? The only things that turn me on are fantasies that are unforeseen and not possible. If they were, I wouldn’t be here wasting my time with another twenty-something piece of shit. This is the part where I said earlier about sex being a chore.

We tried three separate times to get me to fully accept his dick. I didn’t want it anyway, but why not? To the normal person, he would be considered attractive and most women clamor over men that are well-endowed. Unless you’re me and you wish you were still at home, probably already asleep at this time of night.

It wasn’t until the fourth time, and with the lights on did anything worth happening, happen. He couldn’t pick up his pace, when I asked him to go faster, he couldn’t and shot a glorified amount of cum all over my stomach, which shot past my breasts and almost got on my shoulder. If I liked him enough, I would have swallowed all of it. But since something told me I was going to be having uncomfortable sex with someone else less than worthy, best to not deal with the hurt feelings or the potential of something more damaging to happen.

No matter how hard I try, I can’t become attracted to majority of these men the way they see me. The attraction is always one-sided and if we were both attracted, it’s for two different reasons. That night I couldn’t sleep properly, I was too irritated at myself for letting what happened, happen. I was too annoyed with the fact that though I allow the men to revel in their pleasure, they feel dissatisfied that I didn’t orgasm or they ignore it all together. You can’t make someone that isn’t attracted to you, enjoy sex. I didn’t trust them, I didn’t love them, I didn’t care. I had to tolerate and deal with it. Maybe this is awful of me, but I have to live with the regret of sleeping with men that don’t understand. I don’t have a car of my own, so would I really want to deal with the situation if I couldn’t escape? Nah.

It’s the price I have to pay, to tolerate this at the expense of not wondering what happens if I didn’t.

Someday, sex won’t seem like a chore. A mechanical activity used for pleasure and procreation, but for the time being it is. I’m glad I grew out of the naive, overly romantic stage.