Passion Profuse

I was recently given the opportunity to step my game up with my current girlfriend in the bedroom.  I did in fact manage to give her a multiple vaginal orgasm that I could maintain for longer than many minutes and then switch to a clitoral one and do the same.  I did this back and forth several times until I was worried she would go into convulsions.  I was quite pleased to be able to do this to a much younger woman, especially given that she had a hard time with orgasms early on in the relationship.  Now I can give her one anytime I feel like in a matter of minutes.  I try to be humble about this gift but it’s hard because I know for a fact that there aren’t many men this capable.  I know that they haven’t put in the effort and practice, nor do they have the basic fundamental understanding of a woman’s sexual anatomy.

I’d like to work on making women squirt.  I had this happen only once and we were in a 69 position, her legs locked up around my head and immediately about a pint of liquid was ejected into my mouth.  I nearly drowned.  It was all I could do to struggle my way free and get some air, spouting mouthfuls of female ejaculate all the while.  It tastes awful.  Like whale piss, I assume.

I probably come off as an overly aggressive over-sexed North American male.  Which I won’t lie, I kind of am.  The aggression comes in the form of dysphoria which is fading with the medication but I still have my triggers.  One of the biggest problems that I face is when people assume that I am a womanizer.  There is nothing dishonest about my sexual proclivities.  All parties enter into the bedroom aware of what is going to happen.  The only woman I have ever lied to was my current girlfriend.  I had announced to my friends that my intention was to pick up a woman and tell her that I was only 26 (just to see if I could get away with it) and that I had only been with a dozen partners (by the age of 15, lol).  I fessed up the next day before I invited her to come pick up my fitted Hugo Boss suit with me.  She accepted and we have been together since.  I was having sex before she was born, which means that I am technically old enough to be her father.

I pity people who haven’t had the opportunities I have.  There are things about my disorder and behavioural patterns that make me feel truly blessed.  For if I hadn’t been bipolar with hypomania I would have missed out on so many things.  It does however come with a few caveats.  I won’t be much of a family man, I didn’t trust myself enough to have children and distrusted my genetics even less.  While I’m mostly comfortable now that I’m medicated I wouldn’t want to raise a child with some of the disorders that are floating around in my family tree.  All while dealing with my own disorder.  So while I am physically fit, resilient, intelligent and attractive (most of the things you would want in a mate) I won’t be passing any of these traits on to a new generation.

My life is on a plateau.  I will likely never remarry.  I don’t want to sound cynical but I am still a little skeptical about my current relationship.  I do love her to bits but the odds against us are pretty fixed.  The age gap, the very different backgrounds, our places in life and the distance between us.  I’m nearly certain she will meet someone closer to her both geographically and in age.  I know she won’t intend to drift but she will.  As I’ve learned recently all the love, consideration and orgasms in the world can’t make a woman appreciate you when her mind is made up.  The ex had to turn me into a made-up villain, demonize me in her mind in order to convince herself she hated me.  Once that was done though she even convinced herself that talking to me in public and being civil would be an issue and ran behind a bouncer at a club… All totally fabricated concerns in her own mind, designed specifically to distance herself from me.  Women are very capable of making you into a new person in their mind, no matter who you actually are in order to justify hating and therefore leaving you.  It’s an amazing skill.  No sentimental remnants of attachment and no guilt, pure conviction that you are a monster despite all evidence.

My value isn’t based on what others think of me.  I pity a woman who manages to find fault in me.  I genuinely feel sorry for her that she is so utterly lost that she cannot see the effort I put into her.  The consideration, care and love.  Which doesn’t change simply because she went off the reservation and somehow found a way to change her feelings.  I still love them.  Even the ones I was angry with.  Even the ones who are so, so very wrong-minded that they blame me for their inadequacies.  I still think about them, mostly fondly with a hint of frustration at their shortcomings.  Not all people recognize gold when they find it.  I can’t say that I respect it, but I don’t hate them for it.

I may be a passionate frenzy, but I’m good at it and I have a heart of gold.

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