We were in the middle of, what I thought was a good time, when she got up suddenly, shocking me. At first, I thought she was joking or maybe playing hard to get, but as she started putting her clothes back on, it sunk in that she was done with this. She admitted that she wasnât going to cum, and there was no other reason for her to stay. She found her clothes quickly as I stood there in complete shock, and then she just left and Iâm pretty sure she took my ego with her.
I want to say this is the first time that this has happened to me. I mean, a woman has never actually left my bedroom during sex because she wasnât enjoying herself, but this isnât the first time that a woman I am sleeping with has complained about not cumming. Itâs not something I take lightly, but I have never known how to fix it.
I stare dumbfounded at the door, wondering what the fuck I am supposed to do now. I slowly get up, pulling my pants on and covering up my cock. It had gotten soft during the whole ordeal and now hangs limp between my legs. I canât believe that just fucking happened. I sit on the edge of my bed, in only a pair of sweat pants, contemplating everything that has led to this moment.
I donât know when I noticed, or who told me, but Iâve known about my lack of skills in bed for a while now. I thought practice makes perfect and somewhere along the way, I would figure it out. I would fuck someone, and it would finally just click. Maybe I would watch the right porn video and the female anatomy would just suddenly make sense to me. I have been desperate for anything at this point, to fix the complete lack of skills I have, but sadly, it hasnât yet happened and now Iâm starting to doubt if it ever will.
There arenât exactly lessons on sex that I can take, and asking someone has always seemed more embarrassing than not finishing someone off. I have stuck with the belief that I would get there if I fucked enough people, but it has been a year or two and nothing has changed for me yet. I continue disappointing women and havenât learned a damn thing in the process.
I sit on the bed for a few more seconds, waiting for the shame to leave my body. I wish I could be mad at Emma. I wish I could say that she is wrong, but she isnât. We came here to hook up, and if she isnât going to cum, whatâs the point? All of my anger is being directed at myself and I want to feel pity for myself, but honestly, itâs my fucking fault. I should have this figured out. I should stop bringing women into my bed knowing that I am going to disappoint them.
I know my worth as a man is about more than just being good in bed, but god, sometimes I wish it was easy to make someone cum. I wish I knew what the fuck I was doing.
I get up from my bed, finally willing myself to get dressed. The shame coursing through my body stays, not leaving me for a second, and itâs that feeling that forced me to realize that something needs to change. I havenât been able to open up about this, because I thought it would be embarrassing, but I donât know what is more embarrassing than this.
If I want to figure this out, I need to talk to someone about this, and if Iâm going to talk to someone about this, Iâm going to talk to Jeremy.
Jeremy has been friends with me for years. We met in college and have been close ever since. Heâs the only person I trust with this information, who could understand what Iâm going through. As much as I donât want to tell him, I know that I have to if I want to figure this out.
If nothing else, even if he doesnât have any solid advice, it might be nice to get it off my chest for once.