There’s a line in the movie The Ugly Truth, Gerard Butler’s character ‘Mike‘ is telling Katherine Heigl’s character ‘Abbey’ the rules a woman should follow to get a guy interested in her and he says “a fake laugh is like a fake orgasm”
“A fake orgasm is good?” Abbey asks.
He says, “A fake orgasm is better than no orgasm.”
“A fake orgasm is no orgasm,” she replies.
Mikes response is, “Only to you. You’re not the only one in the room you know. Don’t be selfish.”
My question is…. is that true?
I used to think so.
I have spoken before about faking it in the past. I can probably come up with half a dozen reasons why I did it but I think the crux of the matter is simple. I didn’t want MrH to think he wasn’t able to make me come. I thought to make him happy I had to orgasm or he would feel he “failed” in some way.
In truth, I did myself and him an injustice.
If I had said, “what you’re doing feels amazing but I need you to do this to make me cum” he would have followed the directions given. Instead, for 20 years he believed that penis in vagina sex would make me orgasm.
He knew how to turn me on (still does 😉) but I would just not make it across that finish line. Sometimes, if I was feeling frustrated, after he fell asleep I would finish off.
When I told the truth, when I confessed, he looked at me with such disappointment. He hates lies and I hate myself for disappointing him.
Our first time together, he was so gentle and thoughtful, touching me, caressing me. It felt fantastic and I was honest. After some while I said simply “I’m not going to cum so don’t wait for me” and he allowed himself to orgasm shortly after.
He looked so dissatisfied, that I hadn’t orgasmed, even though I told him I’d enjoyed it a lot. It’s probably in that moment that subconsciously I decided faking it would be better than him leaving for someone who could cum more easily.
I didn’t fake an orgasm every time, but sometimes I did. For me knowing he wanted to have sex with me was more important than me having an orgasm.
I needed him to want me more than I needed or wanted to orgasm. So in my head I was keeping him happy and satisfied by letting him believe I climaxed.
When we began our D/s journey and we included more play with vibrators I found I did orgasm. There wasn’t a need to fake it anymore and that brought with it feelings of guilt.
Had I been the one who held our relationship back in this department? As things progressed and we talked more and more I realised I needed to tell Mr H the truth. Especially when, in 2018, I decided to take part in the 30 day Orgasm challenge and found it hard to masturbate to climax (something I had always been able to do before), even using a vibrator.
Mentally I had shifted. I didn’t want to orgasm without Mr H pulling the strings. Even with him telling me to do it, for example he told me to masturbate while he was in the bath, I couldn’t climax. Since then, unless I have the doxy style wands on the job I can’t masturbate to orgasm.
This evening, I told Mr H I was horny and he told me to take the opportunity to practice with my finger.
I got the lube out. Lay on the mat and put some music on.
I started to touch myself, rocking against my fingers, enjoying the feeling – then I squirted. But I don’t feel like I climaxed. Not the way I used to. I just feel uncomfortable and having just felt what it feels like when I squirt I wonder if that’s what’s holding me back.
This is something that makes me pretty uncomfortable. It feels like something to be ashamed of and dirty.
Could my mind be blocking me?
Am I stopping myself because I fear he will look at me with disgust?
It’s one thing to squirt on a vibrator, it’s another to squirt on someone’s hand.
When Mr H got out of the bath I showed him this post in its draft form. He read it and reached out and gently stroked my hair.
“I wouldn’t be disgusted,” he said, “I’ve been holding the vibrator when you’ve squirted, I’ve seen it.”
“But what about the rest?” I said, tears forming in my eyes. “How did you feel when I told you I’d been faking it?”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“What does that mean?” I asked. “I hate that I lied to you.”
“Is that the only thing you ever lied to me about?” He said raising his eyebrows. I ermed and ahhhed.
“The short answer is no,” he said.
“Does I’ve had that for ages count?” I asked
“Did you suspect?” I asked
He nodded, “no-ones that good,” he said, “and I know what’s in your wardrobe.”
By this time I had tears gently falling.
“Part of me wonders if the difficulty I am having is punishment,” I said.
“Who’s punishing you?” He asked.
“Me?” I replied.
“Then there’s only you can fix that.” He said. (Have I mentioned he’s wise?)
“Hmmmm. In the grand scheme of things, the size of the universe, do you think this is worth punishing?” He asked me.
I shrugged my shoulders.
“I hate that I lied to you.” He stroked my hair.
“I know.” He said. He continued to stroke my hair.
“I think we may have to do a 5 day orgasm challenge. No toys just old school.” He wiggled his fingers, with a wicked look on his face, and I giggled.
The tension was broken. I snuggled up to him and we cuddled for a while before going to sleep.