Women are not unicorns

Uh-oh, you say you orgasm alone? Then you don’t care about sex with your husband, you don’t need him in principle, and soon the genitals, head, something else will begin to hurt, sex will become less frequent, and he will begin to experience impotence named Lola (or another name of his mistress).

Don't deprive yourself of pleasure. You are not incubators for the birth and education of new people, you have the same right to orgasm as men.

And if you don’t want to, then take care of your health so that you want to.

It happens:

— And if my gynecologist sends me to a psychologist, he says you have “vaginismus”? (for those who do not know, this is a pathological spasm of the vagina, in which a man cannot insert the penis for coitus).

— Then the answer is this: take a course in intimate gymnastics, remove the spasm from the vagina. In the meantime, learn: relax and have fun in the sixty-nine position with your partner. You don't need a psychologist, you don't need marijuana or sedatives.

You are healthy.

Rape, someone's dirty fingers and untrimmed nails in youth or sex under alcohol led to this spasm. There is no point in continuing to give them causality. You are the owner of your vagina, the cells there have already been renewed many times, this is your property. It is healthy and clean. Love it.

Now let's start talking about my attempts to get an orgasm. For the first time in a long time, or whatever, in my entire life, I began to worry about myself in sex. We no longer cared about his penis, everything worked out somehow on its own, every action became open and aimed at my arousal. He was relegated to the background, and this very fact led to an even greater erection.

Thirty to forty minutes became the norm to satisfy both. We orgasmed once every three or four days on a regular basis for three years in a row.

Of course, there were mistakes, in addition there were colds and business trips, but overall it was very smooth and stable.

The question of my frigidity or imitation was closed once and for all.

In addition, I no longer allowed myself to look bad in front of my husband, except for illness (and then, girls, I comb my hair and try to look like a lady even at such moments).

Now I have a cold, an epidemic is raging outside the doors, I have been sitting at home for five days with an unwashed hair, a red nose and no makeup.

But!

I took care of such moments in advance.

I have permanent makeup done on my eyebrows and lips, my frontal muscles are paralyzed with Botox, so my whole face looks very pretty even against the backdrop of coughing and blowing my nose.

I'm in clean, fitted pajamas, my hair is in a braid and I walk with a straight back, so as not to forget that I am a goddess.

About the goddess — this is a new trick, by the way. When I want to slouch, I say to myself “goddess” and immediately my shoulders straighten. It's funny. Right now I’m sitting writing a book, and my shoulders are already stretching to straighten as I type the word “goddess” on the keyboard.

I used to think that I was the only one who didn’t experience pleasure with men. Because my friends were embarrassed by this conversation and took the topic aside, as if not wanting to continue.

I insisted, but found out things that were unpleasant for myself. It turned out that I was really the only one who was somehow different, which is why I developed a special behavior. To be different from other women, I faked an orgasm. I didn't want to be worse than others. Now I know that many of us do not get a thrill from sex with a partner. And before I lived in the illusion of the dishonesty of my friends.

One said:

— I always reach the end if I'm on top.

Second:

— And it happens to me rarely, but in any position.

Third:

— I will not say. But I'm happy with everything. — and smiles slyly. What does it mean? Are you generally ashamed to talk about this topic, or are you really succeeding at something?

The fourth says that she experiences it, but cannot describe it. And she says it so unconvincingly.

In general, when asked how this is happening for you, they all responded with silence.

Not a single one said that it was fireworks, a fountain of feelings, the clitoris or the area next to it contracted and then pleasure spread throughout the body.

Nobody said that it was as if you wanted to pee, but in the end you get a high in a completely different place, far from the urethra.

They were not inspired when telling and describing their impressions.

There was no passionate conversation around it. What does it mean?

I personally know that my orgasm is always fireworks, a fountain, sometimes not like on US Independence Day, but still a boom. Even a dull little orgasm is a huge surge of emotions. This causes a rush of blood in my face, slight shortness of breath, and such a pleasant muscle weakness.

A seditious thought creeps in that not a single friend of mine has experienced this, otherwise it turns out that they are much shyer than me, which I strongly doubt, although anything is possible.