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DIARY
OF A PREMATURE EJACULATOR
The impossible brake
The
first time I really made love was with a female friend of mine at
the Arci in Turin. I was 17 years old, she 27. It was 4 o'clock
in the morning. I had waited for that moment at least four years
and I was beside myself with emotion. We did it lying down horizontally
on the bed, she under and me on top. I wanted to be impetuous in
order to look good.
I don't know how it worked, if I was good or lousy. I was beside
myself. Anyway, I did it a second time. It was hard work because
I didn't get an erection right away. Then, to the point, I came
immediately. I was able to do it a third time, but she didn't give
me the time to see how long I lasted because she made me do things
with my mouth that I would never have dreamed of.
In
the meantime, I was going out with a young girl who belonged to
Communion and Liberation and was blonde, well built and a year older
than me. But it was different with her because she would only let
me place my penis on her cleft with a condom. She wouldn't let me
enter, only rub against her small opening, and then she would make
me come by stroking me because, even with a condom and without entering
inside, she was afraid of getting pregnant. As far as I know she,
never came, because if I touched her there, after a while she stopped
me because she liked it too much.
Then came the feminists. We made love more often, but they wanted
to come, too. They had to come before you or else you were an animal
and a dirty male chauvinist. And it would happen to me every now
and then to come first and she would get pissed off.
Then I fell in love with a beauty that took your breath away. She
had a head full of curls, a bum that stuck out and very light blond
down on her skin. It was a disaster. I came quickly three times
in a row. I didn't even last 7 seconds. I was humiliated.
I
was a premature ejaculator.
A
blonde girl with well-shaped hips, breasts and lips, fair skin and
an upturned nose raised my morale again. She knew a trick. When
I came too quickly and couldn't get another erection, she pretended
not to want to kiss me. I would kiss her impetuously and get excited
again. She did it in a mechanical and repetitive way, but it worked.
She was exceptionally wet.
We spent six nights shut up in a house in the mountains. On the
fourth night, I couldn't come anymore. I persisted for more than
an hour. She came 36 times and our genitals were in flames.
It was then that I began to think that I could be cured of premature
ejaculation and become a Ôtombeur de femmes'. I began to pay attention
to everything that happened inside me during sex. I tried to identify
the movements that hindered an orgasm. I looked for the right rhythm.
I tried to contract the muscles of the buttocks or those of the
pelvis. I tried a bunch of experiments.
They
were tough years. I attained results mainly with girls that I cared
little about. When, after cyclopean efforts, I succeeded in taking
the wonderful woman of my dreams to bed, I would ejaculate in a
flash, immediately losing my hard-won self-control.
Then I made a great discovery. Nobody forced me to move constantly
during sex. I could stop. If I stopped, and if she stopped too,
the excitement cooled down. But I was afraid to look silly If I
stopped too often. So then I found out that, by changing rhythm
and type of movement more often, the build-up of excitement broke
off.
I improved my lasting time, but I remained on the razor's edge.
What's more, thanks to the advice of some smooth-skinned girls who
had the good heart to tell me what they liked, I understood exactly
where the clitoris was.
I
applied myself to the exercise of gently stroking it without rubbing
it and without irritatingly pulling upwards. This way at least when
I came too quickly, I knew what to do in order to satisfy the girl
who kindly shared the erotic encounter with me.
But it seems to me that I found the final solution when I mastered
the mechanism of contractions. By alternating sudden brakes and
strong contractions in a certain area of the lower belly, I was
able to indefinitely delay ejaculation.
I felt like a flying ace. The girls were enthusiastic. At that time
I worked a lot at my desk. I spent eight or ten hours a day drawing.
I didn't move around much and I gulped down a lot of milk products.
Add to that a bit of anxiety because of premature ejaculation and
a little more because I was deciding if I wanted to be a terrorist
or not...
The fact is that I got terrible cystitis, burning when peeing, burning
when coming. The doctors diagnosed ten different ailments. They
stuffed me with antibiotics, tranquilizers, anti-inflammatory drugs
and side effects. They told me not to make love anymore. I abandoned
sex and armed struggle. I practised macrobiotics, tarot cards and
meditation.
I
tried to relax.
I tried to take things easy.
I tried to let things ride.
Then
I discovered something important. I loved to suck a girl's pussy.
And, furthermore, girls love to have their pussy sucked. If you
kiss it for half an hour, no girl with common sense will protest
if you then come quickly.
So I would suck and then I would come quickly. Even because if I
contracted myself so as not to come, I became terribly inflamed
and anyway to make love with the sole purpose of lasting isn't very
exciting or pleasurable. This gave me peace of mind and more sexual
enjoyment. I also learned to breathe deeply and slowly by using
the diaphragm and filling the lungs equally without forcing and
stopping the breath. It relaxes you.
So
for a long time I no longer paid attention to how long it took me
to ejaculated. All my attention hinged on seeing the film of what
was happening. Then little by little I no longer thought of anything.
I was so involved in enjoying myself that I was no longer conscious
of how often I came. It was then that I began to improve. I would
come quickly but enjoy myself like mad.
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