Premature ejaculation.
What a bitch. What a soul-destroying monster. What a horrifying, anxiety producing terror.
It had hit me bad recently. At this point it was probably going into its third month. Why? Where did it come from? How could I escape from it?
I had been dating Jenni for almost a year. The sex had started off amazing. I had been coming off my first heartbreak. She was my third partner. I had been riding a sexual high for the first six months we were together. I was back in the saddle after a crushing breakup and it felt great. It had taken me over a year to get over it and Jenni had seemed just what I needed. Things had started off with a bang. The sexual awakening I had with my last partner seemed to be carrying on and it seemed like it would forever. I hadn't missed a beat after my long sexual layoff. I had been absolutely blowing her mind and was loving it.
Jenni had been coming off of a hard breakup too. Things had ended with her first partner and after that she had fallen into a sexual black hole. The end of college had been hard, both from a school-work point of view but also from sexual one. She hadn't found any attention from, or attraction to, anyone in a long time. We had hit it off from a Craigslist post (back when that was a thing). After a couple of dates we were both raging balls of horny energy. And wow, when that dam broke, it unleashed a pent up fury that was truly amazing.
Why then? Why was this happening? I didn't seem to last more than two minutes any more. At first it just seemed like a fluke. For the first six months or so we had diligently used condoms, but you know how that sometimes goes... It begins exploring her pussy with your bare cockhead. Sliding around her wet, parting lips. Teasing each other right to the brink, then desperately reaching for that condom. Next is the Just-the-Tip game. You press a little more and a little more... Finally the flare of your cockhead disappears inside, parting her to the breaking point until you're finally inside, savoring the feeling of real, raw wetness. But then, after that hottest of moments, on goes the condom. Later it comes, that moment she grasps your chest, looking into your eyes. Her pussy yields as you press farther than you've ever been before. Your bodies meet fully for the first time. Her lips grip the base of your shaft, she squeezes your cockhead from the deepest of spots. You finally feel her, REALLY feel her. But you still not dare begin to thrust. After that moment of togetherness it's back to the rubbers. A few times like this and it's more than either can take. Don't stop, take me.
We never did make it to the finish line. She wasn't on birth control (yes, scold me) and we really weren't looking to become parents. But it wasn't so bad because, oh my god, did Jenni love to be cum on. I've never been with anyone else who had such an intense desire to be covered with cum. Facials? Oh yeah. On her body? You better believe it. Glaze her pussy like a fucking donut? Hell yes!
It was always my theory that her need came from three things, one was a conservative Catholic upbringing, two a ravenous sex drive, and third was that, more than any other woman I've been with, Jenni loved porn. She consumed porn like a 15 year old boy. The internet had just hit hard as she was growing up. Where I had to settle for slowly loading pics, she had known all the pumping, thrusting glory of video. She had described sneaking down into the living room long after her parents had gone to sleep, and rubbing her pussy to ecstasy watching all those beautiful couples. She had always said getting a facial made her feel like a porn star. A woman liberated from stupid traditions, in control of her life, and of the man she was with. She felt powerful, sexual, free. And now, in the age where digital cameras were affordable, we had made many clips of me exploding on her face and body. We'd play them on the computer monitor and make out as we watched ourselves. Then fuck like rabbits until we recreated that moment all over.
It had all been amazing. But now it was all slipping away. I'd slide inside, start to rock my hips, then boom! The urge would hit and I'd have to pull out. Like I said, at first it seemed like a fluke, but now it was really taking a toll on me. Month after month it continued. I felt like I was losing my mind. Like I was sliding backwards, slipping back into the nerdy, helpless version of me. The one who was completely inept with women. The worthless, two-pump chump who would never be worthy of love or affection. It was like a mortar and pestle, slowly grinding my soul into nothing.
Tonight had started out great (they always seemed to start out great). It was presidential debate season and we had spent the evening drinking wine, making snarky comments about the candidates we didn't like. It had been fun and by the end we were a kissing, slobbering mess; tangled together on the couch. My hands wandered over her body. First went her shirt, then her bra. I devoured her tits as she tugged at my pants. Finally, panting like marathon runners, I said the magic words, "Let's go downstairs."
We scampered down the steps, bare as the day we were born. We pounced again when we got to the bed. The kisses poured over her body, my hand slipping between her thighs to her wanting pussy. She was ready and so was I. I tossed her back onto the bed and stood with my raging cock ready to be inside her. I pressed my head against her clit, making her moan deep and long (Oh our poor neighbors!). She gripped the comforter with both hands as I started sliding my cock over her lips, mixing our wetness together. The electric sexual energy was now running through me, but somewhere, deep in my mind and body I could already feel the short-circuit.
"No," I thought, "not this time." I tried to push it out of my mind, but as is so often the case, this only made it worse.
I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. I stood there and looked at her body, her pussy. I was still standing, holding her leg as I positioned my cock. She began to part, I grabbed her other leg and let out a moan of my own as my head slipped inside her. I pushed and we both howled as we became one. But I could feel it, that twitch, that trigger.
"Maybe if I start to move it will die down," I thought. But no, once that trigger is pulled, there's no going back.
"No, no!" I thought as I tried to resist. "Please god no." But in seconds I had to pull out. I came on her belly, but it was barely an orgasm at all. It was so deflating, so depressing. Every rope that should have been pleasure hit me like a dagger to the heart. I wiped the cum from her stomach. I was beyond anger or frustration, I hated myself. I was in absolute despair.
She scooched deeper into the bed. I flopped down next to her, just staring at the ceiling. The emotion was welling up inside. I'm a gen-x'er, but I was always raised with that boomer, "Suck it up. Walk it off" mindset. You don't tell others about your pain, especially as a man. But I had tried that to this point and it hadn't worked. The sadness kept growing inside me, I couldn't control it any more. I clamped down my eyes, I gnashed my teeth, I tried keeping it inside but there was nothing I could do.
I didn't see Jenni look at me, but finally she asked, "What's wrong?"
She was so tender, so caring. It broke me. I just started sobbing. Tears streamed down my face. I couldn't talk, couldn't do anything. I was a fucking mess. I pressed my face against her breasts and just ugly cried.
