Polina likes to be in control. She doesn’t want me to tell her what to do. She wants me to ask her to do things, not to do things, and to decide whether or not she’ll do as asked.
As we met, I explored her interest, her willingness.
“Tell me about your masturbation habits,” I asked.
“I have a vibrator,” she whispered. She was in a semi-public space – a gym, in which she thought she was alone. “A clitoris vibrator,” she volunteered.
“And what do you picture, or read, or watch?” I asked.
“I’m lucky! I don’t need to imagine anything! The vibrator is that good!”
“So it’s a purely physical experience?” This is so far from my relationship to masturbation, to sex, to orgasm. For me, the physical part is the tail that wags the dog. Not the other way ’round.
She added a couple of details.
She masturbates a few times (3? 4?) a week. Maybe a bit less lately, since she’s begun seeing a new guy. I had had that sense: she communicates with me less regularly, less well, than she did at first. Of course, it’s possible that she feels different about me than she did then, too, but my WhatsApp radar told me she was unplugging for longer periods of time – consistent with dates, with sex.
And she masturbates when she feels a “need.” Here, too, she’s speaking a language a bit different than mine. I envy those whose sexual hunger drives them. My hunger, though, tends to strive toward hunger itself, rather than toward sex. I masturbate to feel desire, not because I feel desire. Tragically, the same, often, is true of sex for me. Or rather? I strive to generate, to use a woman to generate, the hunger that permits sex. That’s where the action is for me. Read any five sex posts in this blog and you’ll get that.
I asked a few other questions, exploring. How would it feel to come because I asked you to? I told her about an ancient woman I dated, one who only could come if being paid (never mind if she was being paid $5 or $500). I described Charlotte, who mostly didn’t masturbate until (unless) I told her to come for me. And Marina, who loved to masturbate, and who loved to masturbate for me. Polina ventured, “I think I would like to come after you asked, if I felt a need. So maybe not right away. But that night, if I feel it.”
We ascertained that she was curious about not coming for me, about waiting a bit. We didn’t really cover denial, edging. Those will have to wait for another day. In the meantime, though, I left her with – well, not with instructions, because she doesn’t, won’t, give me control, but rather, with requests.
Here are my requests:
- Please, don’t come tonight.
- Please, do come tomorrow. At whatever time it’s convenient for you.
- Immediately before you start to touch yourself with your vibrator, please send me a text telling me you’re about to do so.
- Record the sounds of your orgasm. After you’ve come, please listen to yourself. Then, please, describe what you sound like. Either in your written words, or in your spoken voice. As you prefer.
To all this? Polina said, “I can do that….” She had a sly smile on her face. I won’t guess how she was feeling, the sensations in her…. Well, she didn’t react well to the words I used. Her preferred word? “Coochie.”
I won’t guess at the sensations she was feeling down there. But I have a hunch (a hope) she was feeling at least something.