|Biographical Non-Fiction posted February 28, 2009||Chapters:||...31 32 -33- 34...|
Faking an orgasm isn't all it's cracked up to be
A chapter in the book A Leaf on the Wind
And The Oscar Goes To....
by S. Pumpkin
The author has placed a warning on this post for sexual content.
Sexually abused throughout her childhood and early adolescence, Valerie is emotonally ill equiped to deal with life. The scars she bears may be invisible, but the damage leaves her a chld in an adult
"To be yourself in a world that is constantly trying to make you something else is the greatest accomplishment."
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Ralph Waldo Emerson
Life at home was different after my hiatus. Bonnie had disappeared and Teresa was busy raising a family. Mom and Daddy were still fighting and after a year-and-a-half of freedom, neither had any say in what I did, or, where I went. I had become my own boss.
Jackie, a life long friend of Teresa's, took an interest in me. She was married with a small baby. We became good friends and I spent most of my time at her apartment. Jackie was one of the most unattractive girls I knew. She had a large nose, terrible teeth, bad skin, and the figure of a weight lifter. But she was smart, funny, and had a bubbly personality that lit up a room. She was the perfect example of the usual response given to the first question a guy asks when a friend is trying to set him up with a blind date. "Is she pretty?" "No, but she has a great personality"
I often ran into ex-classlmates who had completely ignored me at school. Most were pushing baby carriages and many appeared unhappy and lonely. Girls who had shunned me at school, suddenly sought out my companionship. I found it strange that they all seemed envious of my freedom. I also began to notice men looking at me when I entered a room. I was still very shy and always avoided eye contact, but the attention gave me an unfamiliar sense of self-confidence.
One evening, Jackie and I went out for a cup of coffee at a Denny's restaurant. While sitting at the counter, I noticed a young man at a table across the room. I recognized him immediately. His name was John Mitchel. He had been the most popular boy in high school. He was extremely handsome, captain of the football team, senior prom king, and every girl in school wanted to go out with him. But he was also very cruel. On more than one occasion, he had singled me out for public humiliation.
Once, with a group of his friends, he stopped me in the hallway and said. "Hi, my name is John. What's yours?"
I was flabbergasted that the most popular boy in school was actually speaking to me. My heart beat so fast I could hardly breathe. Shaking from head to foot, I answered. "My name is Valerie."
John smiled and resting his hand on the wall beside me, he leaned forward, and whispered into my ear, "Do you have a date for the prom?"
Desperately trying to hide my excitement, I smiled and said, "No."
John laughed and in a loud voice said, "Take a look in the mirror and you'll know why."
He and his friends laughed and walked away leaving me alone to bear the shame and humiliation of being reminded of how unattractive I was. I spent the remainder of the day in the bathroom crying. The ride home on the bus was horrific. By the end of the day, everyone in school had heard the story and were laughing and pointing at me.
Seeing John sitting a few feet away from me immediately brought back the pain he had caused me that day so many years ago. Although, still very handsome, all I could see was an ugly, cruel boy who enjoyed taunting shy girls. I could tell from the way he was looking at me that he did not recognize me. Indeed, it seemed he was flirting with me.
Jackie and I finished our coffee and when we got up to leave, I intentionally walked past John's table. He looked up at me, winked, and smiled before saying, "Hi."
I couldn't think of anything to say other than, "Go to hell, asshole."
As I walked away, I rebuked myself for not telling him who I was and how much he hurt me. I got little comfort knowing there was probably nothing I could have said that would have erased the memory of what he had done.
Jackie told me I was pretty, but when I looked at myself in the mirror, I still saw the same tall, skinny, unattractive girl. Men would ogle me but few ever asked me out on a date. The few dates I had never included a movie or dinner. The men who asked me out were only interested in having sex. Saying 'no' immediately eliminated their interest in pursuing a relationship with me. However, if I acquiesced and gave them what they wanted, there was seldom a second date.
One evening after dinner, Jackie asked me an odd question.
"Valerie, do you enjoy sex?"
"I tolerate it when I have to, if that's what you mean," I replied.
I never understood the connection between sex and enjoyment. I often wondered how something so disgusting was supposed to feel good.
Jackie shook her head and sighed. "If you just gave it a chance, you'd find out sex is fantastic."
"Believe me; I have given it a chance," I countered. "Sex is just something that you are expected to do. Nothing more, nothing less."
"You are a beautiful girl," she said encouragingly. "I've seen how guys look at you."
"So have I, and, it is always with my clothes off." I responded sarcastically.
"And what's wrong with that?" Jackie said with a smile on her face. "You are a very sexy looking woman."
Intentionally ignoring the very sexy remark, I sighed again, and said, "But sex is all they ever want. A guy asks me out and, instead of going to a nice restaurant, he drives directly to a dark corner of some empty parking lot where I'm supposed to act thrilled that he wants to have sex with me. If I say no, he drives me home and I never hear from him again. Or, If I say yes, when he's done, he drives me home, and I never hear from him again."
Jackie paused a moment, then asked, "How do you respond when you are having sex?"
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"Do you just lay there like a dead fish or do you pretend to like it?"
"What difference does it make?"
"Guys need to feel like they are great lovers," Jackie advised. "If a girl acts bored, it turns them off. Maybe that's why they never ask you out again."
I shook my head and laughed aloud. "Are you telling me that if I pretend I like sex, guys will like me more? That's absurd!"
"It's true," Jackie insisted. "Guys want a woman who makes them feel like they are the greatest lover in the world. If you can do that, I am sure they will like you more and want to get to know you better."
Jackie left the room and returned a few minutes later holding two paperback books, Payton Place and Lady Chatterley's Lover. Handing the books to me, she said, "Read these and I promise when you are finished you will be able to fake an orgasm that will knock the socks off any guy you are with."
I wondered, if men were such great lovers why I, or any woman, had to fake an orgasms? Moreover, if so many women were faking orgasms, why did they keep insisting sex was fantastic? It all seemed pretty stupid to me.
I appreciated Jackie's advice; I knew she meant well. I also knew she was probably right. If I expected to find, and keep a boyfriend, I needed to learn how to play the game. I read both books several times to learn how to moan seductively, arch my back appropriately, and rhythmically thrust my pelvis at exactly the right moments. Armed with my newfound arsenal of tricks, I set out to find my knight in shining armor.
However, Jackie's advice rebounded negatively. I quickly gained a reputation for being an easy, and enthusiastic, lay. No one showed any interest in getting to know me better. Every date I went on concluded, as all the others, in a quick drive to a dark, secluded corner of a nearby parking lot. None resulted in a second date.
Earned A Seal Of Quality
Valerie has found her freedom but does not posssess the necessary skills to interact with her peers. Still very shy, insecure about her physical appeal, she falls into the dark world of sex in the backseat of a car. She is now 19 years old but in many ways still a little girl forced to live in an adult world.Pays one point and 2 member cents.
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