At our last therapy session my Wife mentioned how Her sexual needs are very limited, and whilst I’d like sex once or twice a day, She only needs it once a week, or less. She’s probably right about me, but I was astounded to hear She’d want sex even remotely as often. Obviously Our disparity badly needs addressing, and exploring what strikes me as gross exaggeration would be fascinating.

As I thought about this later I found my self musing on how I have observed  Her sexuality over the years.
In no particular order …

    • Lingerie
      • In the first couple of years of our relationship, I bought my Wife some delicate purple lace lingerie. She wore it regularly until it fell apart.
      • Probably a little before that, off the back of something entirely unrelated, as a comedic/romantic/seductive gesture, I made a pair of side-tying, red silk lined, faux tiger fur knickers for Her
        As We weren’t yet living together, I wrapped them carefully and posted them through Her letterbox. I waited for a reaction. They have never been mentioned. Never!
        Possibly 10yrs later, I went looking for them. They were buried at the back of Her least used drawer.
        Today I went looking for them again and found them at the back of a drawer used daily. (Spot the purple tissue at the back.)
      • On our wedding day She wore a very nice matching set of ivory bra, briefs and suspended belt that She and Her chief bridesmaid had visited Rigby & Peller to buy. (Rigby and Peller don’t do cheap, so I’d estimat these cost around £200.) Back at our nuptial hotel after the reception, as We undressed for bed, She commented I thought you would have worn some new underwear. There seemed an air of disappointment. She has barely ever mentioned my underwear since, no matter how colourful, diminuatice or transparent.
      • When I bought The Infamous Red lingerie for Her, She seemed pleased with It, and on visiting the respective shop to exchange sizes, expressed an interest in buying more underwear from them.
      • When I bought Her the not-immodest blue lingerie a year later, She rejected it as She felt objectified.
    • One evening, as we walked towards my Wife’s flat for the first time as a couple, She drew my attention to the red latex dress in the front window of a rubber fetish shop. It was absolutely stunningly gorgeous! I suggested She should enquire about it. She reposted that it probably wouldn’t be Her size.
      Further along the street, She pointed out the cobbler specialising in fetish and transvestite footwear, the BDSM shop, and another rubber couturier. Granted, this little cluster of shops was impossible not to pass and did little to disguise themselves, but it was difficult not to regard my Wife’s commentary as at least fetishisticly promising.
    • As We lay in bed one weekend morning, again some time in Our first couple of years together, We were discussing something of which I have little memory. I’m certain it wasn’t anything remotely kinky as I would have been just as uneasy about opening Pandora’s box as I am now. Perhaps I had mooted trying something other than missionary. In whatever context it was, unprompted, my Wife described Herself as sexually repressed. I’ve never known how literal She intended to be.
    • [I suspect this next would meet with abject denial, but it’s really not the sort of thing you forget!]
      Now I don’t remember what led up to the moment in question – whether it was part of foreplay, fucking, or whether it was before We even started fucking. (We would mess around a bit like inhibited teens, with Her dry humping my leg.) But I have a vivid mental image. I had my left arm wrapped around Her, and was stroking Her arse. My fingers strayed between Her cheeks and as there was no objection. I toyed tentatively with Her arsehole. Still no objection, but as I didn’t want to push my luck, I moved away. Much to my surprise, She almost immediately, and breathlessly, urged Don’t stop … more. If I have ever strayed near Her ring since, She has at best steered me away, if not chided me.
    • Although I don’t recall it ever being explicitly discussed, I believe my Wife has had no sexual partners other than myself. And We got together when We were both in Our early 30s.
    • She asked me how often I wanked. I lied. I said a couple of times a week. The reality was a couple of times a day. I returned the question. She said occasionally.
      On one of the last occasions We had sex, I asked Her if She could teach me how to masturbate Her. She said She couldn’t. Add the fact that direct clitoral stimulation appears too intense for Her, it all suggests to me that if She ever masturbates, it is extremely rare.
    • When we have had sex, it has almost alway been with the lights off.
    • Although She will suck me off without request (usually after She has cum from penetrative sex and I have not) I am neither invited nor permitted to go down on Her. As She has sucked or tugged me off, post Her orgasm, I have increasingly beseeched Her to Sit on my face? Sadly She has universally ignored my request. And on the only two occasions I have actually got my tongue even near Her crotch, Her thighs have remained firmly clasped and She has quickly discouraged my attentions.
    • As our marriage has waxed and our sex life has waned, She has increasingly mentioned Her discomfort with the objectification and sexualisation of women.
  • And finally (for now) many moons ago, when Fridge Poetry was fashionable, She bought the Erotic edition as a gift for me … and then censored it, consigning the more interesting words to storage. You can easily spot those of which the plastic has not been degraded by sunlight.

2 Responses to “Poetic”

  1. It’s hard when you have been raised to be strong, independent, don’t let men objectify you, be a lady, loose women are nasty, etc……to find a way to embrace your own sexuality and be ok with it. I have no idea what her thoughts are, but until she feels safe and secure in herself and your relationship, I would bet it remains difficult for her to change.

    • I think it’s more combative than that. Why should She be anything that any man ever wants? If a woman wants to sleep around that couldn’t possibly be an independant choice, but rather it must be down to negative social conditioning based in the over-sexualisation of women by a male dominated society. For Her the use of word lady is patriarchal and disrespectful, as is ever refering to women as girls.
      As for feeling safe, while She refuses to see the world as a anything but an endless killing field in the battle of the sexes, how could She ever feel safe? Anyway, She doesn’t really have sexual needs … according to Her.
      (Does that sound bitter?)

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