I faked an orgasm, but I doubt he believed me.

I’ve been turned off and shut down towards men in general lately. I get emails daily from interested suitors and I scoff at them. I’m just a shiny object on the shelf to them. A trinket, a pretty thing, an opportunity for release. The Law Student has set me back, made me gun-shy; The Neighbor has broken my heart and hobbled me.

The men that turn my head write me beautiful notes complimenting me on my self portraits (both written and photographic). They acknowledge that I’m real and that they see me, but I don’t trust one word out of their flapping gums and treacherous fingertips. I’ve lived on lip service for months now and more recently the week in which I engaged with LS. Who goes down on a woman with whom he has amazing chemistry and spent a week of his life intellectually seducing and then basically never talks to her again?? — I should add “exhausted” to the L O N E L Y.

Last night my softball team and I agreed to meet for batting practice at a local park at 6 pm. TN, always a cheerful participant (and owner of the bat we love to use), also wanted to come. At 4 pm the storm front that had gathered the previous night began to rain down on the city, its grey clouds stretched out for miles like smudged pencil. Texts and emails flew. Who was afraid of a little rain?? Apparently no one, and so we agreed to meet despite the hazy wetness.

TN, Peyton and I were the first three to arrive. We trudged out to the far end of the field to avoid muddy spots and tossed the ball waiting for my teammates. The rain stopped and we were left with a tepid humidity surrounding us like a damp hug. My Converse filled with water and my cheeks grew flushed. TN and Peyton chased each other taking turns being zombies.

Only one teammate actually showed up in the end and more than 30 minutes late. In that time alone with TN he made innuendos and silly jokes, all of which I let slip by like so many pennies in front of a millionaire. I didn’t want to cash in, though I couldn’t help but notice his indecent bulge. The poor guy can’t even wear gym shorts without looking like he’s stuffed a sock down his crotch. It’s downright indecent.

I’d invited my teammate over for dinner along with one who didn’t show up, so when darkness fell on us with a final puff at 7:15 we packed up and went home. I did not invite TN to join us, nor tell him of my plans.

My girlfriends, Tina and Haley, teased and played with Peyton while I got started on dinner: pan-seared boneless rib eye, parsnip and potato mash with cream, Gruyère and thyme, and sautéed asparagus. It took about 5 minutes for us to remember that the debate was on and so we began discussing where we fell on the spectrum. “Where’s TN?” one of them asked me.

“I don’t know. Next door or working out, I presume,” I replied chopping parsnips. “Do you want me to have him come over to watch the debate with us?”

“Yeah, sure, why not?” they both agreed.

I texted him and went about my evening. The wine flowed, the laughter was raucous. I was tending the food alone in the kitchen when I heard a quick knock and my front door open. TN walked in and waved a bottle of wine in the air. “I’m here! And I brought wine!” he bellowed with a smile.

The girls said hello and he sat down with them as I wrapped up dinner. The debate had started 20 minutes before and I was eager to join the melee of yells and side conversations intermingled with Peyton’s My Little Pony on the computer in the corner.

We ate cross-legged on the floor and my friends moaned their pleasure and approval with each bite. TN politely declined dinner saying he hadn’t seen my text in time to not eat dinner first. The debate ended and we laid around the floor talking about the shit show we’d just seen: Tina hysterical that Romney might win and she’d lose the right to make decisions about her body, Haley a little shell-shocked in general as she learned more about Romney from us, and TN cool and pundit-like as he explained it will be nearly impossible for the Romney/Ryan ticket to win.

I accidentally found myself sitting on TN’s foot and he wiggled his toes. I moved off, not wanting to encourage any kind of intimacy, and stood to clean dishes with Haley.

When we came back TN announced he was going home. We all said goodbye and took turns reading to Peyton. I was the last to kiss chubby, sweet cheeks and brush perfectly colored hair off of temples, a whispered ritual of love.

Back with my girlfriends on the balcony our discussion soon turned to sex and penises [bread and butter]. Youthful and lost they remind how far I’ve come, hopeful and searching they remind me of what I’ve lost.

Our rants and peels of laughter were soon interrupted by an uproarious and ridiculous laugh from below. Downstairs Neighbor had overheard us.

We convinced him to come upstairs and hang out with us and no sooner had he sat down than TN poked his head out of his balcony. DN convinced him to rejoin us.

With five of us crowded on the balcony I sat feeling warm and full and happy. I love people. I love that I’m the hub of so many of my circles and that my friends are actually friendly. I blossom as a bud in sunshine.

Yet, I was on edge, tensed for flight, waiting for that ill-formed spoken thought from TN. But it never came. He was generous, funny, and normal. Respectful in speech and action.

The girls left eventually with hugs, air-humps, and cries of glee. Puppies tumbling down the hillside, tails and ears flying. I turned to TN and DN. “So, it’s just the OG now.”

“Yep,” said DN sipping on his wine.

“Indeed,” added TN taking a sip of his.

We sat and laughed for a while longer, a spell cast on the three of us wherein we were blind to the elephant perched on my goddamned lap. Eventually, TN begged off again, but before he left I said, “I want to ask you something, but later, ok?”

“Sure, but why not now?”

“Because, I don’t want to.”

“Ok,” he shrugged and I waved to him from my seat as he left.

“He is so in love with you, Hy,” DN said as the front door slammed shut. “He just has no goddamned clue what he’s doing.”

I sighed. I’m so tired of hearing this, but it’s a fascinating example of human behavior and stubbornness. Everyone gets buzzed from the alcoholic fumes steaming off of this intoxicating, infuriating relationship. We want to figure it out, our curious natures striving to answer the age-old question of, “Why…?”

We hung out a little longer before I was ready to go to bed. I hugged my tall, furry downstairs neighbor goodnight, checked on Peyton, peeled off all my clothes and climbed into my bed. The crisp, clean linens cool on my skin a stark contrast with the warmth in my belly from a full night of friends, food, and wine. I picked up my phone and pecked at the keys.

I rolled out of bed and slugged some mouthwash and no sooner had I spit than I heard a soft knock on the bathroom door. I stood there naked in the light and pushed the door open. TN looked at me.

I was suddenly bashful and closed the door with a laugh and exclamation. I heard him crawl into my bed and when I opened the door he was buried under the snow caps of my down comforter. He peeked out at me. “Close your eyes!” I said still hiding behind the door, my shyness crushing me.

He covered his face and I bounded to the bed and leapt in. He opened the covers for me and snuggled close. “I’m so cold!” he said.

I couldn’t tell. To my cool skin he was hot, yet he shivered. His basketball shorts were silky against my belly and his bulge grew large under my hand. I slid my hand over it rapidly and laughed, “I’ll try to start a fire.” He laughed with me and held me to him.

I ran my fingers through his chest hair, reticent to express intimacy, yet emboldened by his presence. He closed his eyes and I dipped my hand beneath his shorts and gripped his even hotter erection. “Mmm.”

I worked the shaft like he showed me and when a pearl of liquid dripped out I raised my fingers to his lips and traced them lightly. He opened his mouth and his velvetness closed around my finger. I pulled my hand away and dipped down to my slit, so soft, so slick.

I pressed in two fingers and raised my hand back to his bow mouth and traced my juices on his plump lower lip. He sucked me into his mouth. I nipped at his shoulder.

He kicked off his shorts and rolled over on top of me. Our eyes locked and I tried not to let him really see me in the candlelight flickering across our skin; hiding in plain sight.

He paused for a moment outside my opening, his arms tense and hard caged me in. He reared back and gently slid in to the hilt. I moaned and bore down on him. He stroked me from the inside with his silken rod and his five o’clock shadow scoured my neck, jaw, and lips like a loofah.

I pulsed and squelched around him as he thrust into me. I felt at once in the right and wrong places.

He hitched my ankles up over his shoulders and pounded into me. I gripped the iron bars of my headboard and pushed back with all my might. With each thrust my confusion and passion grew in equal parts; I met his gaze through a haze of shadows and didn’t look away.

He released my legs and reached down to my bedside basket. “We haven’t done this in far too long,” he crooned as he handed me my vibrator. He slid to my left and swung my legs around, never leaving my insides. I switched the vibe on and felt an instant bloom, but try as I might I couldn’t walk through that door.

He pumped into me and kneaded my breasts and sucked on their peaks. He asked me what he needed to do and I told him not to change a thing, but still, my release eluded me. In a fit of desperation I cried out and panted, tensed like I think I do when it’s real. I felt guilty for not cumming.

He pulled out and kissed my swells some more. I lay next to him and panted then went back for “#2” hoping for a real #1. Same distant tease with an initial hard bloom and stars. He kissed me and pinched my nipples. I shuddered for a fake #2, embarrassed and feeling more lonely than ever despite having a warm, willing man beside me.

He reached between my legs and slipped in two fingers and brought a swift (and real) climax hot and boiling through me. Different from cumming, my climax spreads like lava through my chest and core.

I kissed him again then and pushed him back onto his back and climbed between his legs. My mouth found his warm, wet cock and I fell on it slowly. I tasted goddamned delicious. I closed my eyes and mewled my pleasure, felt a small release of wetness between my thighs. I stopped when he missed his climax and dragged my breasts up his torso and captured his mouth with my own. My softness melted into his muscles and soft downy hair. I slithered back down to his cock and took him back in my mouth.

“I don’t think I’m going to cum again, Hy.” He chuckled. “I’ve cum 3 times today already.”

“Three!” I said with disbelief.

“Yes, once this morning, and twice when I got home after work and practice. I don’t think this will happen again.”

“Ok, but I still think you should keep your cock in my mouth while I jerk off again.”

He knelt next to my head as I laid back down again and spread my knees. He fucked my face and I closed my eyes. My orgasm tripped out of my reach again, unbeknownst to him. I looked up from under the trunk of his cock and whispered, “Jerk off on me.”

“On your face?”

“My tits.”

“I really don’t think I can –”


His hand became a blur as the vibrator churned on my clit painfully. Seconds later I was covered in hot jizz and his thick hand rubbed it over the mounds of my breasts. His hand slipped to my throat and, covered in semen, squeezed gently. My head exploded, but my body didn’t.

I wanted nothing more than to cum for him, for this, for me, so I shook and rattled for a third time, though in reality nothing happened except a disconnect within my own body. “Did you cum?” he asked, my acting so poor. I only nodded, bewildered and disappointed in myself.

He drew wet cum circles around my nipples and bent to take one in his mouth. When he kissed me, I could taste his sweet semen. He’d snowballed me with a devilish grin. I was delighted.

I laid in his arms and felt tired and heavy, strangely satisfied despite my small, emotional roller coaster. “So, what did you want to ask me?”

“It really is dumb. I’m afraid to ask you because I’m certain you’ll say no.”

“What is it??”

“I have a birthday/housewarming party to go to this Saturday and thought it’d be fun if you came with me.”

“Yeah, NO.”

“See!” I started to say then he interrupted me.

“Just kidding! I’d love to. It sounds like fun.”

He got up then and dressed. “Don’t forget to give me a proper kiss goodbye,” I said wearily from my pillow. He tucked me in and kissed me full on the mouth.

“I’ll lock the door behind me.” And he left.

I closed my eyes and cried a little for my poor, sore clit, clapped a little for my pussy that got pounded, and sighed a little for the games we play. In some strange way it felt like a pit stop on an old, familiar route, in others like a wrong turn. In the ongoing saga of Hy and TN last night was another page not fit to be dog-eared.

A 40-something single mother who writes honestly about sex, body image, D/s, relationships, her nervous tics, and how much she loves to fucking fuck. She also likes to show you her tits.

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25 thoughts on “I faked an orgasm, but I doubt he believed me.
  1. “I pulsed and squelched around him …” One of the hottest phrases I’ve ever read. My cock dribbles at the mental image of your glistening cunt full and stretched and juicy.
    Sorry to hear you didn’t cum, but lets get this into proportion, it’s a pretty rare day that you don’t ;-)

    1. Thanks, AM, totally true. I’m not too upset about it. I couldn’t even cum the following morning — well, I did, eventually, but it took me forever and my clit quite literally hurt all day.

  2. i faked cumming once. i was at a gangbang and trying my best to hold out and last long. but when i hold out too long, i then have trouble finishing. she was so nice, and her husband was so nice about letting us all bang his wife, and i was afraid she’d feel like she didn’t do a good job if i didn’t finish. had a condom on, so it was easy – sort of – to get away with it. assuming she didn’t know.

    1. I’ve faked a couple of times in the past, but only ever with my vibrator — haha makes me laugh thinking about it. It’s to match the scene and mood and my desire, never to trick anyone. Sounds like you know exactly what I’m talking about!

      1. i’ve had times when i knew i wasn’t going to cum, and when i stopped, the woman felt bad, but i got out of it by saying that at that moment i had all these hormones rushing through my head and it felt great. and although it really feels great to have an orgasm, these chemicals in my head also feel great and i want to keep them going. so i’m going to save the orgasm, and keep those chemicals in my head. and then tomorrow when i fuck you again, there’s going to be an even bigger orgasm, and also a ton of cum that’s gonna drip out of you, so be ready for that too.

        1. That’s hot! TN cums with me 3 out of 5 times — he jerks off constantly. It’s great for longevity, but still a little bit of a bummer. I wish I could make him cum every time. But I know better than anyone that having an orgasm isn’t what makes sex pleasurable, so I don’t take it personally. And when he does orgasm, I feel prouder.

          1. i hate to say it, but when i have trouble and need to finish, i always think of the same thing – the first time an ex-gf and i let another guy join us at a swingers club we used to go to. i had her doggie style and a guy was watching. up til then, we fucked in front of others but she was too shy to let anyone join us. so she’s on her hands and knees and a guy is watching, standing, slowly getting closer. then she reaches up, unzips his pants, takes out his cock, and starts blowing him as i’m fucking her. was very unexpected and very hot. that’s my fall back “i need to cum now!” scene.

          2. I have a “go to” place, too, but its more abstract. I turn into myself and then out, become my cunt. Images of cock and passion-twisted faces flash by until I can hook into the orgasm. It’d be easier if I had an incident to remember!

  3. I think this is a very telling post. We can read all sorts of things into the difficulty orgasming and the thoughts inside your head. I know this is a major turning point. But for me, the giveaway is not what happened. It is the power in the words, and the strength behind them describing what happened. This is Hy-writing at its best. Some of that power writing has been AWOL for a bit, and I love that it’s back.


    1. Mike, it was really hard for me to cum the following morning, too. I can’t read too much into this.

      Re: the writing, I’m flattered, but surprised. I’d never choose this as one of my better pieces, but thanks all the same. xx Hy

  4. Hmmm…. I always wonder whether that’s my body telling me something, or my mind. But it’s not possible to work it out based on one evening I’m afraid… so don’t worry too much about it. But I can see that it was confusing… xx

  5. Great post as usual. But I really love what you cooked for dinner. When can I cum for dinner? I will bring the wine

  6. There are so many things I want to say to you right now (I thought you were done with this guy?), but mostly I just want to give you a hug and tell you everything will be all right.

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