Page 33 of My Turn Petal
I drain my cup of juice as I’m swarming with thoughts about all the experiences she had to go through with others and on her own.
“I never blamed him for it. He didn’t know and I barely knew what it meant back then. He didn’t make it far though since my body was quick to shove him back out. I tried with other men over the years but they never managed to penetrate me. So to your question, I opened myself to my vibrator before I freaked out and pulled it out of me, but that was my first full penetration.”
I have to ask her this, “Did someone ever treat you poorly while you were together?”
“Yes and no. No one ever hurt me during a physical act, but the frustration and the lack of cooperation did affect the ones who tried. That’s the truth. It’s not easy for all parties involved.”
I’m quick to comment. “That’s no excuse. They knew about your condition. You either accept it or not.”
“The reality of my ongoing dating list tells a different story. Finding someone willing to walk with me through the stages, and reach the summit is deteriorating with time.”
“But it’s not your fault, there are so many ways to experience pleasure.”
“It’s not that easy. I can’t blame them. In some cases, people get married, spending years without having penetrative sex. Yes, there are still other ways to pleasure each other. I can still orgasm, plenty, without vaginal penetration but for some, it’s just not enough. Being deprived of that option is a deal breaker for a lot of guys.”
I’m not other guys. “Not for me.”
“Yeah? How are you so sure?” her lids furrow.
I ponder her first question which I promised to answer.
“I treat my guitar like I would treat a woman, if I learn her right, she will make all those beautiful sounds for me.” I pierce into her eyes. “So maybe I would treat my woman like I treat my guitar.”
She stays mute for long minutes but her cheeks flush and I can almost hear her heart ticking loudly.
“Lost your words, petal?” I let my thumb graze her chin. “No more inquisitive questions?”
She studies my features, probably, mulling my answer in her head.
“Is that how you feel when you play guitar?”
I brush her hair softly. “I’m all in.”
“You didn’t answer my question.” She retorts.
“I don’t need to.” Her lips stretch under my thumb. “You already know the answer.”
She fills me with so much warmth that the fires she creates in my core know no calm, even when I try to extinguish them with more orange juice.
She speaks so freely about everything that I fucking admire her for it all. She’s trying so hard, anyone would see that and the fact her body won’t relent can make any person wrung out of strength.
Not her.
She’s still going strong, giving it her best combat strikes.
“Thank you for telling me more about it.” I give her my most sincere expression.
“Anytime.” She says as she chews another bite.
“Can I join your yoga session tomorrow?”
I don’t want to miss her routine, doing the things that make her feel good, and bringing her to a better state of mind, it is part of the journey.
I want to be there through it all.
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
“You have bread crumbs all over your mouth.” I point out.
