He's Never Made Me Come - Sex Stories

He's Never Made Me Come

... sadness in her eyes, realising that I wasn’t the only person in this room that sometimes struggled to cope. I assumed that in her job as a counsellor at a University, she must have her life together. No issues, no insecurities, no instability. But then I remembered how her eyes had darkened last week, the fear and desperation that appeared to come over her as she had spoken to me, like she had no control over what she was saying... “You’re telling me that you’re feeling better this week,” she had prompted, bringing me back out of my contemplative reverie to rejoin this conversation. “But you still seem distant, unengaged. Can you tell me where you went just now?” I realised, slightly embarrassed, that I couldn’t. I had no idea where I was going during these episodes, I just knew that I left the physical World behind and sometimes struggled to find my way back. I shook my head. “Is this...dissociation...affecting your day to day life?” “I guess.” I’d replied. “Sometimes I unpack my folder at the end of the day and find pages and pages of lecture notes in there, so I know I went to my lectures that day...but I have no recollection of being there. The other day I spent 5 hours working alone in the lab, but when my flatmate asked me what I’d done, I couldn’t tell her. It’s kind of scary. How can I know that I’m being sensible and safe if I don’t even know what I’m doing?” She looked at me, concerned, but not shocked. That was what I liked about her. “What about other aspects of ...

... your life? Are you able to interact normally with your friends? Family? Do you have a boyfriend?” The last question startled me. I felt the familiar shame creeping up my neck, my cheeks getting hot. “G-girlfriend,” I offered; both a reply and an apology. My sexuality was a source of great embarrassment and discontent to me, and I suspected largely to blame for my ill mental health. For her part, she took this information in her stride, not reacting in any way but to ask how long we’d been together. My response, two years, seemed to satisfy her that it must be a stable relationship, and no cause for any concern on her part. “And are you able to interact normally with your girlfriend?” “Mostly, I think.” “What about your sex life?” Now my cheeks were definitely burning. I looked away from her, not able to hold her gaze as she waited for an answer. “I...um...” “I’m sorry, you don’t have to answer if it’s too personal. I just thought it might be useful to know the extent to which this is affecting your life.” “No, it’s okay, I understand.” I tried to regain some composure. “I guess I just wasn’t expecting it. I hate discussing my sexuality, let alone my sex life. But actually it’s okay. No problems...I enjoy doing it. I can focus on pleasing her for hours...” I trailed off, embarrassed that I’d now provided more information than required. I shifted awkwardly in my seat. This seemed to pique her interest. “When you say 'pleasing her...', what do you mean, exactly?” Now this was ...