7:58 PM, Somewhere on this planet…
“Let’s have a quickie,” he whispers as he gathers me into his arms.
And because I’m a very lazy person, in my mind, I’m thinking how a quickie should last about five to ten minutes, and then I’d be done from here and on my way home.
Forty-five minutes later, he is still digging inside me as though he’s looking for his lost treasure. I’m lying on my front, thinking: But wait o, shey it’s a quickie we are supposed to be having. Oga, I’m now tired please.
While I’m still trying to figure out what to do with this situation that has stretched from a quickie to something else entirely, he leans in close to my ear and whispers, “Should I cum now?”
Eh!!! I am instantly outraged. Wait first, let me understand something. So, you’ve been holding your cum all this time? How? So, people can hold cum and decide when to release it? My friend, please cum and let me go biko!
But of course, I sweetly reply, “Yes, please.”
And no sooner have I spoken than he begins to have seizure-like jerks on top of me as he ejaculates into the condom buried deep inside me.
8:45 AM, Same place on this planet…
It is a second meet and we have been at it for the past forty minutes, with me making him pause every few minutes because of the excruciating pain that comes with enduring his pistol of a dick.
I’m thinking to myself: Shey I will not go and become a side sef. Because this bottoming business is starting to stress my body, my soul and my ticket to heaven.
I am on my back this time, and I open my eyes to look at his face, watching the beads of sweat rolling down his forehead. He is really hard at work. His eyes are closed as he moves his hips in the in-and-out thrusting motion.
Then I hear the words. He grunts them harshly.
“Should I cum?”
Oh dear, not again!
It seems this is a pattern for him. So, what if I say, “No, don’t cum,” does it mean we would be here for hours pending the time I give my permission? What’s with this question sef?
But then, I’m already too exhausted to even attempt exploring the “No, don’t cum” option, so I say a quiet “Yes.” And in no time, he is disposing his boys inside me.
Since I became sexually active, I’ve not really enjoyed sex. I find myself enjoying the foreplay better than the penetrative sex. Perhaps this is because whenever I think of sex, pain is the only thing my brain registers. The sharp pain of the first entry that passes from my spine to my brain. The lengthened pain of the repeated thrusts, especially the hard thrusts that make it feel like my stomach will ripped open any time. burst open. In fact, I believe it has only been once that I’ve had sex that wasn’t so painful.
Whenever I ask around for advice regarding this issue I have with penetrative sex, I hear words like “Oh, you’re not relaxing enough. Try to take your mind away from the pain” and “You have to use plenty lube. No amount of lube should ever be enough as far as the Bottom is concerned.”
This has become why I go into sex praying it shouldn’t last long. I pray the guy about to top me be a three-minute man.
And maybe, that is why the “Should I cum” question makes me feel like you’re not even reading my body language to see that I’m trying to make this a painless exercise. I feel as though gay porn is misleading. Who says we must go at it for two hours for it to be hot? Most times, when I watch the Bottoms whimper or yelp in pain as they’re penetrated, my heart goes out to them because I know how that pain feels. But in my experience, some Tops would hear that sound and think of it as a moan, an encouragement to thrust in even harder, instead of as a check to take things easy.
Well, I think the three times I’ve had sex this year are enough for me. Till next year biko. I cannot coman go and kill myself. I really don’t know, maybe I’m lazy, maybe I’m not relaxed, maybe I don’t know the quantity of lube that works for me. Or maybe I should just become a side and kuku rest.
Written by Peace