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While I now identify as lesbian, I’ve had lots (and I mean lots) of sex with men. And since my sex has lately been all with women, I’ve gained some perspective I’d like to share. About sex with men, that is. Specifically, why it’s so bad and how it can be better.

First off, let’s be clear. I don’t hate men. I like men. I mean, how can you have sex for years with men and not like them? Right now, I like women more for sex and for emotional reasons, which I’m not going to get into. I also want to emphasize that I really like penises. Nothing, and I mean nothing, beats a penis when it comes to fucking. The vagina is made for it. Not to mention, I’m one of the lucky women in the minority who can regularly orgasm from penetration (and, yes, that includes dildos, fingers and, I guess, vegetables, one of the few things I haven’t tried). And, like I said, nothing is better than a good pounding from a penis.

So here’s the perspective I want to offer. A lot of men, maybe most men, can’t fuck. Outrageous, right? Let me elaborate. Most men “fuck,” but they don’t fuck. What many do is masturbate into a vagina. And that would be okay, except after they come, a hormone releases in their little brains (there I go again, sorry), the eyes roll back in their heads and they go off to dreamland.

I can’t quote numbers or cite scientific papers. But think: The buzz among erotica authors is that the overwhelming majority of erotica readers are women between 30 and 50. Not romance, erotica. They’re reading lots of very explicit erotica, MF, MM, FF and all the other combinations. Would they be reading really, really hot sex books on their ereaders if they were getting really high quality sex in their own bedrooms (and kitchens and garages and decks and living rooms…)?

Most men are lousy at sex. I base that on some of my own experience. I’ve had some really lousy lays who, after depositing their load in me, just rolled over and went to sleep–leaving me wide-eyed on my back, warmed up just as it’s just getting interesting. When I was younger, I wondered if it was me. As I got older, I learned to move on. After masturbating, of course.

To be sure, men have it hard. Life is stressful, especially here on the east coast, Washington-to-Boston megalopolis and it’s unreal work ethic (things seem a tad more relaxed in the country’s mid-section and on the west coast). Men are stressed, over-worked, ill-educated about sex, and, like the rest of us, kept in a constant state of fear by our government and its corporate media (end of rant).

So, being a good lover is hard. The result, I strongly suspect, is a lot of sexually frustrated wives and lovers.

So, “fuck” vs. fuck. What makes a good fuck? A really good lover is a man who is focused on only one thing when having sex with a woman: pleasing her. Nothing else. It’s not about his orgasm. Ever. It’s all about hers.

Harsh? Yes and no. On one hand, women are sexually superior (if ability to achieve orgasms is the standard, and it is for me). Women are also the repositories of  human beauty in our species. In peacocks, it’s males. For us, it’s women. Maybe you don’t agree, but I’m convinced of this. It just is. The shape of the breast, the line of the jaw, the curve of the backside. Women got the beauty in the species. It only makes sense that women, therefore, are made to be appreciated and pleased (sexually and in all other ways, but I won’t go into that now).

So where does that leave men? In a really great position. Hear me out. If men could get in their brains that their role in lovemaking is to please this sexually sublime creature, to make sure she is stroked, kissed, fingered, nibbled, slapped, bitten–whatever she wants and whatever it takes–then the end result is this: Mind-blowing sex for both of you.

In other words, men, it’s not about you coming. It’s about her coming. And coming. And coming. And if, at the end of a great lovemaking session, she’s too exhausted to fuck you or blow you or stroke you, just do it yourself. I mean, beat off.

But, I’m glad to say, that’s not the way it usually plays out. You see, women who are treated right are appreciative.  A three-hour roll in the sack where you lose count of the orgasms and you’re absolutely limp from fucking? Yeah, I really appreciate the person who makes that possible. Am I happy to please him? Oh, yeah. I want to. It’s in our natures. (That’s about the only time I can really give a good, heartfelt blow job. After I’ve been fucked silly, I want that thing in my mouth where I can roll my tongue on it, slather it with kisses and feel it get harder. It’s not a chore.)

Let me get specific. What does it look like, this guy-treating-the-gal-like-a-sex-goddess sex? One way of looking at is to prolong the foreplay (there is foreplay, right?). I mean, really prolong. Hours. You diddle her with your finger or tongue for ten minutes and think that’s foreplay? Wrong, not even close. Ever watch lesbian porn? Real amateur stuff? They kiss and cuddle and stroke and laugh and orgasm and kiss and kiss…it’s boring to watch after 45 minutes or so. But that’s a good way to see what real foreplay looks like.

So how does a guy prolong foreplay without blowing his wad? A guy who’s been speed masturbating since he was eleven in the bathroom, scared as hell about getting caught? (That’s a big part of the problem—the shame associated with solo sex.)

One way is to masturbate first. If it’s “date”–not sure if that’s the right word, what with all the hooking up going on–jerk off before you pick her up. Then after the movie and you’re starting to make love, you’re a lot less likely to blow your wad prematurely.

As for the actual fucking, the point is to for both of you to get sexually aroused and stay aroused. She’ll come repeatedly if you’re doing it right–that’s in her nature. What you do is get aroused and hold it there. It’s called edging. Going right up the edge, to the point you’re ready to ejaculate and then backing off. It doesn’t always work. But like anything else, practice makes perfect. (And there’s tantric sex, which I know nothing about, so I won’t go there.)

Men can also train themselves with Kegel exercises, strengthening the muscles in the pelvis so that you can actually “clamp” down and prevent ejaculation. My best male lover could do that, and it was incredible. He’d bring me to orgasm repeatedly with his dick and hold off his orgasm. I’d come, he’d slow down, but not stop. Then he’d start fucking me faster, I’d come again and he’d keep on going, right through my orgasm. Over and over. Un-fucking-believable. Alas, there were other issues in our relationship, so we parted. Sex isn’t everything.

So practice. The best way is by masturbating. Have you ever taken, oh, say, two hours to beat off? Start really slow, fingertips only, lots of lube, both hands, ten fingers, everything smeared in lube (olive oil is great). Run your fingers up your shaft, around the head and glans, over your balls, feathering your dick with your fingers. The object isn’t to come. The object is to get really aroused and hold it there.

I’ve done this with male lovers, mutual masturbation, meaning we’re masturbating ourselves while together. A mirror is a great accessory, especially for the guy. Men are so visual. Position the mirror so that can he watch his dick while he masturbates. It’s like there’s another guy is the room. Go up to the edge, get close to blowing, and back off. Watch that dick throb. If you cross the point of inevitability, you might be able to stave off the orgasm by pinching the dick head hard. Really hard. It won’t hurt, trust me. The key thing to keep this in mind: What’s the rush? Got a meeting? Why wouldn’t you prolong the wonderful agony of an approaching orgasm? After all, you’re only going to get one (unless you’re seventeen and can orgasm every thirty minutes, in which case, get off this blog!).

One lover masturbated for me using one finger on his penis. One finger! He lubed the tip of his index finger and slowly circled the frenulum, the V-shaped structure on the underside of the glans that’s highly erogenous. It’s almost like the guy’s clit. I watched as my lover slowly circled his finger on that structure. After fifteen minutes or so, his dick was throbbing and he started moving his finger across the glans (with more lube). He’d also work his little slit (the meatus, since I’m being technical here). He almost elevated off the bed, he was so aroused. It was fascinating to watch, especially when the pre-cum started streaming out. Hot! Of course, I was jilling like a madwoman, watching. It was a point of honor in this demonstration to use only one fingertip. When he came, he exploded. It was wild. Spunk flew everywhere (not in my hair, thank God; I’ve learned to stay out of the line of fire of erupting penises). It took just under a half-hour to blow using one finger. An interesting aside: He was able to get an erection back quite quickly. I wonder if it had anything to do with the fact that he hadn’t stroked himself to orgasm. Anyway, we had great sex afterwards.

What I’m suggesting here is an attitude change. Men, treat your woman like the sex goddess she is. Please her. Nothing else matters. It’s not about your orgasm. That will happen, rest assured. Just make sure she’s getting all the attention she needs and deserves. Work at it. You will get your reward. I promise.