"Tore the bridle - to parting": People about the worst sex in their lives
We all know that life is a little like a movie - and besides good sex there is also bad one that everyone has ever had in their life. A condom that has come loose and stuck inside, a situation where one of the partners hurt painfully on the headboard, and just the cases when a couple has different tastes and sex is not as cool as they both expected - ridiculous, funny and sad stories happen to by many. Often, sex turns out to be bad also because people act in accordance with social norms, and do not listen to their own desires - for example, they are afraid to admit to themselves that in fact they don’t want sex right now or with this partner, or become victims of persuasion other. We talked with several heroes about the worst (or one of the worst) sex in their life - from traumatic to the one that basically did not happen.
There was a lot of bad sex in my life. I would say, much more than good. I think the whole point is that I rarely have a long relationship, and one-night sex with an unfamiliar character often turns out to be unsuccessful. You can say that I was lucky: even during bad sex I have (almost) never been hurt. Rather, it was embarrassing, uncomfortable, inappropriate and not inspiring. I wanted to quickly finish this and leave.
The most horrible sex happened, perhaps, a few years ago, when I was depressed. I had problems at work, and besides, I was rejected shortly before by a guy who I liked a lot. I decided to find solace in the arms of M., who had long hinted how hot he was and how much he wants to show me "the sky in diamonds". We met in a cafe, where he began to very openly stroke my knee. I was ashamed and unpleasant, but I decided to relax and try to get pleasure. Then we went to me, before this drove into the store. M. bought yoghurt (obviously, he planned to stay with me for the night and have breakfast in the morning) and a set for rolls. At home he cooked food, and then put a piece of ginger in his mouth and kissed me. It was disgusting - ginger (actually, I love him, but not in such a context) with the taste of another man.
When we actually had sex, it all lasted about a minute and a half. So much for the sky in diamonds. I was shocked: I heard, of course, about speed guns, but I did not expect this from an adult solid man. M. still wanted to lie down and cuddle, go to the second run, but I could not see him anymore. I gave him a yoghurt and said that he had better leave now. More we have not seen.
But I had a case when I felt that I wanted sex and enjoyed it, and my partner (as it seemed to me) had sex with me out of politeness. I kissed him first, undressed, experienced an orgasm (thanks to his dexterous fingers), and the partner still did not have an erection. There was a feeling that I used it - very unpleasant. I do not understand how many men can “seek” sex with a girl who frankly does not show enthusiasm - as it turned out, such sex is doomed to become bad.
A couple of years ago, in the company of friends, I met a young man - let's call him Peter. Neither he nor I at that time were in a relationship, and sympathy arose between us. Some time later, I thought it would be nice to invite him home to have a nice evening. I wrote to him, unambiguously hinting at what I consider to be a pleasant pastime. Petya came, we drank a bottle of wine. As I understood later, he was not ready for a situation where a woman offers a man to just have sex without obligation. In general, Petya became so nervous that he started to feel sick from a couple of glasses of wine - as a result of midnight he spent in the toilet, and my playful mood disappeared.
Petya still stayed with me for the night, and I would have understood very well if in the morning he thanked me for the hospitality, gathered the capes and left. But no. Apparently, in order not to disappoint me at all, he offered me a massage. The most ridiculous and clumsy. And I would understand Petya, if after that he finally got knocked down. But no. Petya stayed for breakfast, then suggested embracing to watch a movie, then one more, then offered to chat. And only towards evening I managed to pry Petya. Since then, I manage to avoid it.
Several times came across men who believed that monotonous swotting is the perfect sex. But, alas, in terms of frequency and intensity, they were far from vibrators, and the “battery” they sat down in a few minutes. Unfortunately, it was their only way to reach orgasm. About my there was no question - after such a race had to improvise. But I could not get rid of the feeling that my body replaces them palm, which they used to masturbate.
Another of my partners had erection problems. Most often, when we had sex, his dick was a solid fifty percent. Maybe he liked me and fifty percent? Perhaps more than all he loved himself? I did not understand - although he had finished, he confessed in love, and sex was regular.
I had the worst sex twice with the same person - an old acquaintance. Why was it bad? First, the process itself lasted about three minutes, not more. Literally one, two, and hello. I, of course, was sad that everything ended so quickly, but in the end, anything can happen, we are not at the casting for porn, everything is fine. Upset my further actions, ahem, gentleman. He simply turned away from the wall. That is, the man was not embarrassed that there was a hot woman next to him (who also actually wants to enjoy the process, and not vague fuss - what was it all about?), He just kissed my forehead and wrapped himself in a blanket. At the bewildered proposal to relax a bit and to make "one more call" refused. I was terribly uncomfortable, I lay there still excited and looked at the ceiling for about three hours, and then tiptoed in pitch darkness gathered scattered belongings and went home by taxi.
But since the sympathy for the person was long-standing, it was a pity to abandon the matter at this stage, moreover, it is not enough that he was tired, for example. Do not chop off the same. And here we met for the second time, but here I decided to take control of the situation (hello, this is the police of frictions) and simply do not allow him to finish too quickly. In the process, I realized that he did not like it: he would like to complete the process as soon as possible and, in fact, finally go to bed (I felt like a tormentor and gave up). After this meeting, he also sent me unambiguous sentences (that is, in his understanding, everything went great), but I preferred to return our communication to the channel of friendly communication, and soon it was completely attenuated.
In this situation, for the first time I came across an absolutely selfish approach to sex, where the man’s orgasm is at the forefront, and what the woman is experiencing in this case is completely irrelevant. That is, it did not even occur to him to think that in three minutes it’s hard not only an orgasm, but a banal pleasure to receive. Suppose you have everything happen quickly - well, do something for the girl too. And not even necessarily oral (no coercion, only goodwill), for example. The question is not even that your partner is not satisfied (and she, shock content, also loves sex!), She didn’t understand what had happened: half an hour of kisses, three minutes of sex and finite - as if the gingerbread was shown first, but then a cookie. It's sad.
There was a lot of bad sex in life - mainly because of the psychological pressure of quasi-Orthodox women, hehe. The worst - purely physically - was a few years ago with my girlfriend at the time. Not that sex itself was bad, but it ended in a ragged. In the literal sense - I broke the bridle. I am absolutely not afraid of blood - on the contrary, when, for example, I donate it as a donor, I love to watch how it comes out of me - it is fascinating. But when, simultaneously with orgasm, blood began to flow from my penis (on the partner, on the floor, on the legs), I almost fainted. Blood! From the most delicate place! Imagine that you are bleeding from the vagina! Oh, wait ... I wrapped the poor fellow with a napkin, sat down on my luxurious sofa and just tried for several minutes not to lose consciousness. When he came to himself, he made an appointment with a urologist at the hospital as soon as possible, got dressed slowly (it was painful) and went to a humiliation session.
The doctor was super pleasant and polite, behaved as if he were stitching bridles at breakfast every day - with English irony, but without a bit of interest. To sew a member is unpleasant; while he was writing, he remembered the sensation of thread passing through the bridle. Tightly bandaged and released. The end? Not here it was! Whether in the evening of the same day, or the next day, I discovered that blood was dripping from a non-stop member. At work! And does not pass - goes and goes a few hours. She walked almost all day, then finally stopped - that was happiness.
And we soon broke up with the girl. Not because of this, of course, but I was joking to myself that I had torn the bridle - to parting. Take your time, use a lubricant, be careful.
It seems to me that discussing sex, especially bad, is very important: if it were not for the crazy stories of my girlfriends, whom we laughed at, I would still think that something was wrong with me, and everyone else has sex as in "Fifty shades of gray", with fireworks and multiple orgasms from one type of naked man. I was lucky - I have never faced situations of direct violence. But there was a lot of bad or just average sex, mainly because of my complexes, because I was afraid that my partner or partner would stop loving me if I said that I didn’t like something or would take the initiative and will look stupid. Now, ridiculous episodes during sex, like vaginal farts or situations where someone knocked someone in the eye, I do not think are bad: with an adequate partner, you can laugh at such things together and continue.
The most memorable bad sex in my life was about two years ago, at the bottom of a long depressive episode. I began to have bad sex when in the midst of it I suddenly began to sob (at the same time, my partner did not immediately understand what was happening because he was behind and did not see my face), and then she continued to sob for another two hours. Then I didn’t understand what happened to me, but now I think that I didn’t really like sex from the very beginning, and then abruptly covered with self-pity and despair, which didn’t have anything to do with sex. I panicked, could not say anything or move and thought: "This is my body, what I do with it, why I don’t feel anything at all, why I can’t understand what I want, what kind of person am I?"
For me, this episode became the culmination of accumulating problems with mental state, after which I went to the therapist and began taking antidepressants. With them, my head became much better, but bad sex continued, because of the side effects I got anorgasmia. It’s sad that I had to go through the guy with whom I’ve met for a total of five years, and he patiently endured all this nonsense - and then we broke up on my initiative.
I had a classmate in love with me from the second year. But to me, he was disgusting as a man, and all my communication with him came down to writing off from him and occasionally teasing him. Typical situation. When I broke up with the guy whom I loved and whom I met for a very long time, he became more active. He was still disgusted with me, but it was necessary to at least hear from someone how beautiful I was.
I do not know whether I wanted sex with him or not, but he was so hinting at his extraordinary size that I was inclined to this idea. One summer day we went for a walk in the park and sat down on the bank of the pond. No one was around, we began to kiss and touch each other. He kissed my chest and carried snotty nonsense like "I like your smell" - it did not add mood, but vice versa. It seemed to me that it smells of sweat from me (summer, heat).
He kissed too badly, and I decided to move on to the main thing. But when she unzipped his fly and put her hand into the pants, she felt a really big, but absolutely slack hose. It was such a disgusting feeling that I instantly opened my fingers and pulled out my hand. I do not know how to convey this, but my already small desire evaporated completely, and we left it. A few days later he asked what was wrong at that time. I said that I did not count on a saggy sausage. He replied: "Well, so I did not know what you wanted!" Play, damn it, I wanted to chess! Soon our communication gradually faded away, and we no longer saw each other.
There was another story - maybe not quite suitable, but funny, and this time with a nice person to me. It was also summer, and I also wanted love in nature. We went to the botanical garden, we were looking for a secluded place for a long time, and suddenly we saw a glade overgrown with nettles almost human-like. They sneaked in to surely avoid witnesses (well, who will climb into a huge nettle ?!), spread out a rug. Everything was going fine - when suddenly there were voices about three meters away from us. It was a man and a woman, they stood next to each other in their tracks and listened. We froze too. The man tried to lead her away, but she said: "What if this is rape?" I could not stand it and replied: "No! Get out of here!" After that they left. We somehow finished, but without mood. With the same man, and in nature, it happened more than once, but without the watchful passers-by.
Photo:constantinos - stock.adobe.com, master1305 - stock.adobe.com, Tierney - stock.adobe.com