He's Never Made Me Come - Sex Stories

He's Never Made Me Come

... and desire to pleasure your girlfriend, and there he is, twenty-five years your senior, plenty of experience and yet no ability, or maybe no inclination, to satisfy me.” She was growing bolder, more animated. “Just listening to you talk just then turned me on...this is so wrong, I shouldn’t be talking about my life...I’m sorry.” She did look sorry. She looked so uncomfortable that her mouth had betrayed her like that, voicing her personal response to what I was saying. Embarrassed, she looked away again, but I’d already noted the darkening of her eyes. Need. I didn’t know how to respond, so I again tried to make a joke. “But you’re not telling me you haven’t had an orgasm in 18 years, are you? I mean... you can take care of yourself... right? Eighteen years... a person would explode!” I was fully aware now that we shouldn’t be having this conversation, but somehow I couldn’t leave it. I wasn’t attracted to her, but I felt this need to look after her. She’d become an important part of my life. I guess this is what therapists mean when they talk about transference. She was helping me in my life, I guess I felt I owed it to her to listen if she needed to talk about this. She looked up at me again, her eyes full of the fear and trepidation that mine usually were when she asked me a personal question. “I...well...I do, sometimes. But it’s not enough. I don’t satisfy myself...a stolen 5 minutes in the bathroom here and there...and then I feel dirty, ashamed. My husband and I have ...

... an active sex life...that should be enough for any normal woman...” “Except he doesn’t care about your needs,” I countered. “No,” she almost whispered. “As soon as he’s finished, it’s over. It leaves me so frustrated...” “So you go off to the bathroom and finish the job yourself, but it’s not for pleasure any more, it’s just something that has to be done so you can get some sleep.” “Basically.” She seemed surprised at how well I was reading her now, as if we’d switched roles. “You know you deserve better than that, right? Your needs are just as important as his.” “But I don’t know how to tell him. How do I make him do the right things when I don’t even know really what the right things are?” I was growing more confident now in my role as impromptu sex therapist. “Masturbate for him,” I suggested. “Make him watch as you bring yourself to orgasm. Let him see how you turn yourself on, how you touch yourself. Let him hear your breathing change and your moans. Show him what he’s missing out on by not making you come.” “I can’t!” She seemed terrified by my suggestion. “I’m not that person. I don’t have the confidence, I’m not sexy, I don’t even touch myself in the way I want to be touched. I just get it over with as quickly as possible...” She sounded miserable...but the thought of it had definitely turned her on. She was now squeezing her legs tightly together, and a red flush was creeping across her chest. “So make it appear like an accident... set it up so he walks in on you. I ...