I am not broken.

My tomato red and navy striped sundress swirled about my knees as I followed The Neighbor back to his bedroom, his hand warm and tight on mine. It had been 3 days since we’d been able to touch bare skin, out-of-town friends and wedding obligations having conspired against us.

He pushed me roughly onto his bed. “I think I should take off my shirt,” he said while with one fluid motion he pulled his grey T-shirt over his head. “And of course these, too.” I watched hungrily as he unbuckled brass and brown leather.

His erection sprung free and I growled a little as I grabbed it with both hands, the head neatly available for my mouth.  I tucked it in between my lips and savored its clean taste and warm, smooth head.  He moaned and pressed towards me.

I let my hands slip away to wrap around his thigh with my right hand and the base of his shaft with my left; my face sunk down onto his pole.

I perched on the edge of the bed and the Sunday afternoon light streamed through the slots of the blinds as my neck worked like a strutting rooster.  “I think I should lie down, too,” he said gruffly.

I nestled between his legs, spread his knees apart with my own and fell down onto him.  I moaned and closed my eyes, eternally happy to be lapping at this favorite, magical part of his.  I paused for a second and turned to my right and noticed a mirror propped up on the floor.

I was silhouetted by the window, my breasts swells of light and shadow and my folded knees covered by the dark red fabric.  My arms distended onto something, I couldn’t quite see, but if I peeked just so, I could see the gentle curve of his cock like a dolphin breaking the top of the sea.

“I can see us,” I said and giggled a little.  I moved my hands along his thighs and could still only see my arms moving on something at their ends.  It was arousing to see me and not him, yet feel him so electrically beneath my fingertips.

He moved swiftly then before I could react and snatched up the mirror and gently leaned it above his head against the headboard.  “Now suck my cock,” he said sternly.  I nodded and quickly complied.  “And watch yourself,” he added.  I gave a small shake of my head.  “Do it, Hy,” he insisted.

Reluctantly, I looked up and saw my blue eyes gazing back at me, my mouth stretched wide around the head of his cock.  I quickly closed my eyes, embarrassed to the core.  My jaw looked unhinged, like a snake wrapped around a warm, furry body, and I seemed alien.

“Do it again, Hy.  Don’t be shy.  It’s hot,” he encouraged.

I tried again and giggled and spit around him, pistoned up and down on him hoping to distract him from his intense stare.  It didn’t work.  “Again, Hy.  It’s so fucking hot, oh my god.”  I looked up and saw him looking back at me in the mirror, his neck stretched up exposing a carpet of stubble and vulnerable places.  I contemplated biting his neck for a split second but closed my eyes instead and concentrated on the heat in my mouth.

I sucked and slobbered and listened to his moans for a minute or two.  Without prompting I glanced up once or twice, my cheeks still reddened with embarrassment and lust.  It was naughty.  So, so naughty.

“Do you have panties on?” he asked urgently then.

“Mmmhmm,” I nodded around a suck and pull.

“Pull them aside and c’mere.”  He pulled me up by my shoulders and I straddled him as I moved my black lace panties.

I was sopping wet and he slid in deep and long and without a moment to acclimate to his invasion he began to move, the mirror TN and Hy laid out before me.  “Look at you,” he commanded.  “Look at how fucking hot you are, how beautiful.”

My center tingled and prickled and a wash of heat swept out and up over my shoulders and rolled down to my fingertips.  My breath caught and I whimpered as I watched the woman in the red dress, her large breasts pulled out over her top.  She cried out and pumped on top of a naked man sprinkled with dark body hair, her hands were fists in his chest hair and massaged his lean pectorals.

And again and again and again it washed over her.

So rapidly, white hot, like a slap in the face the g-spot orgasms came and burst down my door.  I begged to stop, yelled out and felt my miscreant tones join the innocence of the chatty birds outside the open window, and again begged to stop.  “Please!  Please!  I can’t!  I’m going to die!”  My dramatic pleas humorous if not also so arousing to him.

He kindly relented and I sobbed half-heartedly with a laugh and slumped over him clutching his shoulders until I finally pressed my body against his, his cock still buried deep inside of me.

“I’m not going to call those ‘things’ any more,” I whispered.  “Those have got to be orgasms.  I’m certain any other woman would call that cumming.”  I panted and tingled.  “That just has to be a g-spot orgasm.”

He gently pushed me off of him and I slumped onto my side.  He curled up behind me naked and warm against my sundress.  I sighed and smiled.  “I’m not broken anymore,” I said.  “I feel like a normal woman!”  I rolled onto my back and he followed me, his face split by a big grin which matched mine.

I don’t know why I haven’t just called them orgasms all this time.  I’ve felt strangely dishonest since they are distinctly different from my Hitatchi-induced climaxes which are body-arching, breath-stealing bastards of pleasure.  These g-spot originating orgasms are more subtle, softer, and a part of a bigger picture.  They aren’t the ending, they’re part of the beginning and middle; they set me off down the river.

Then I said guilelessly, “TN, you just made me cum like a motherfucker.  How awesome is that??”  We laughed and he kissed me and hugged me and pulled me to him, his boyish smile plastered to his face.

“Well, this was a wonderful way to spend a few minutes of the day.”  I agreed and told him I had to get back to home.

We stood and kissed and I felt righted.  When I got back everything was totally alright.   I was a normal woman, the day stretched out bright and long ahead of me, and I had gotten a proper little tumble in with the man who has my heart.

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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60 thoughts on “I am not broken.
  1. You are “Normal” now. Good for you. What does that make the women who read your blog who don’t have g-spot orgasms? Abnormal? Still Broken and Defective?

    I love your blog but a punch in the gut like this deserves a response. My wife has battled this image her entire life. She has these amazing body shaking clitoral orgasm but still feels defective because of some mythical standard of “normal” that is set by the media, Cosmo magazines, screaming women in movies, and every fuck-me-in-the-elevator movie scene ever filmed.

    She is profoundly unhappy in bed because she’s told in a million ways, she’s broken.

    And now it is a million and one.

    1. Thanks for calling me out on this, Advizor, it’ll give me a chance to clarify.

      Normal is relative and in this sense, I — one woman who writes this blog — hasn’t felt it in regards to my orgasmic abilities. I want very badly to orgasm with my lovers, but I have very rarely been able to and have felt it was extremely special when I have. I forget sometimes that a lot of people might read this and hear me saying THEY’RE not normal because they can’t cum in X way. Not my message at all.

      My friends in real life all cum via sex all the time, my lovers’ exes all did, too, and all my blogging friends seem to orgasm left and right without an electric toy. I’ve always felt like the odd man out since I am reliant on the Hitachi — until Sunday when I finally decided to own a different kind of orgasm. It made me feel good.

      I’m sorry your wife doesn’t enjoy her body-wracking orgasms — I’m jealous, I won’t lie — but just remember I’m a personal blog, not a sex-educational one. I’m sure any woman on the planet would have written how excited she was to finally feel her kind of “normal” if she’d had an orgasm with the man she loves.

      But, as always, I appreciate your directness and honesty! xx Hy

      1. I never in my life got the message that g-spot orgasms were ‘normal’. I don’t know any woman who thinks it’s ‘normal’ either and feels less than because she only gets off via clit stimulation. I loved this post, and your response above, especially “I’m sure any woman on the planet would have written how excited she was to finally feel her kind of “normal” if she’d had an orgasm with the man she loves.”

    2. Your comment is honest and heartfelt, Advizor, and I feel a great deal of compassion for your wife her unhappiness. I know the media portrays nearly everything in an unreal light, causing a huge variety of problems among viewers.
      Your criticism of Hyacinth is misplaced though. The woman merely expressed what is true for her, in her own mind and her own body. She expressed herself honestly and openly, giving us a rare and courageous window into her psychology and physiology. Expressing what is true for her is a great distance from the media’s habit of choosing an ideal and pretending it should be that way for everyone. Claiming she now felt “normal” is her own reaction, limited to herself, not projected upon your wife or anyone else. Given it’s her blog and we’re all reading as guests, I suggest we celebrate her orgasms with her, allow her to feel as “normal” as she wishes and stop comparing.

    3. Sorry, Advizor, but I feel the tone of your comment is out of order and you have totally missed the point of communication and education.

      I sympathise with your wife in feeling she could be missing something. It is, however, unreasonable to blame the brave and gorgeous Hy for pointing out and discussing one part of what she may be missing. This is typically called ‘shooting the messenger’.

      What would be more useful for you and your wife is to recognise and learn, maybe from Hy’s blog and others, what is actually out there and go looking for it, not bitch that you have not had it handed to you on a sliver platter.

      I would point out that Hy has shared with us a lot of things about how to squirt. With the help of these and other documentations I know several people who can now squirt. Does Mrs Advizor squirt? Has she read about how to approach achieving this type or orgasm if she does not?

      For G-spot orgasms, go read the words, go buy a vibrator targeted at helping them happen. Don’t just whine about it. Learn, develop. And thank Hy for helping you both to do that.

  2. Very hot… and I’m very happy for you. Just to be sure they’re the real thing, you should probably have some more… lots more. ;)

      1. Well, no. But there seemed to be a change once you climbed atop TN. I know those are two separate acts, but it can be weird watching yourself in the mirror regardless of what you’re doing.

  3. Hy, I love your post. What I love the most is that you describe your orgasms. I have only recently discovered clitoral orgasms. (I’m a bit of a clit junkie at the moment.) Most of my life on this planet has involved g-spot Os. For the longest time I thought I was doing something wrong, because lots of the time they’re subtle. It’s my personal theory that they’re also tightly aligned with my mental and emotional state. At least in my experience. Anyway, I’m grateful for your words because to some degree, all of us are trying to feel “normal” about our sexuality. xo

    1. Thanks, G, I’m so glad you related and didn’t feel as though I was alienating you. For me, I just want to feel the maximum amount of pleasure I know I can feel, when I want to. Haha it sounds so petulant, but there you have it!

      Congrats on finding the clitoral orgasm! It’s not the only part of sex — or even of touching yourself — but it sure is pleasant!! xx Hy

  4. I do love your honesty in letting us into your world. Now, I wish for you the New Years Eve party of a clitoral orgasm to then be followed unexpectedly like a suprise party – with the very elegant and deeplt resounding G-spot orgasm – or is it the other way around? omg and hey, I don’t squirt but I don’t think anything of it. To each her own. xoxo, Jayne

      1. Isn’t there sensation with it – maybe I asked you about that and you said No I swear though, I thought there was from your writing about it. Otherwise – whats the point of it? (biologically speaking)

  5. It took me a while to realize and accept that there are different types of orgasms and my body reacts differently to each type. But they are no less earth shattering…they simply shatter me in different ways…

    So…yay for your epiphany!

  6. Wow, what a nice introduction to your blog… Leaving me smoldering with your words and one hell of a hot orgasm. Yay!
    Mmmm thank you. :-)

    1. You’re welcome! I love it when I bump into another tight knit sex-blogging community. I can’t wait to get to know you (and yours) better in the coming months!

          1. “Grows and Shrinks and Grows and Shrinks”
            Mmmm girl, your words are making me think of His delicious cock. :-)

          2. Oh Nick, now I’m getting all tingly. And it just makes the thoughts rise forth, exploding into a spectacular display of need:

            I can’t wait for our road trip, MariMar and I have some catching up to do.

          3. Lots of us are cheering you along on that one…provided you tell at least some of it:-)

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