Asexual Intercourse

The following post is an auto-biographical stream-of-consciousness account of what was going through my mind the first time I had sex.  I did not know I was asexual at the time, I did not discover asexuality until years later.  It’s clear to me now that most of what I felt was because I’m asexual.

I’ve never read an account like this.  We rarely talk about it, and when we do, we hardly go into this level of detail.  It’s too personal, too private, too embarrassing, too conflicting, too confusing.  And so we stay silent.  And in that silence, we’re alone.

I’m presenting this for multiple reasons.  First, I believe that sharing stories can help us find what we have in common, and let us know that we’re not alone.  The only story we hear is that consensual sex is wonderful and amazing, when it’s not always wonderful and amazing for everyone, even in the best of circumstances.   Second, there seems to be a common narrative out there that having sex will cure asexuality, somehow.  That’s often not the case and I wanted to give an example that people can use as a counterpoint.  And finally, I wanted to provide an example that can be used to potentially help non-asexual people understand what it’s like for an asexual person to have sex.  In particular, some people can’t understand how sex is possible without attraction, or think that there can be no pleasure without attraction.

The story below is my experience .  It is not meant to be representative of how every asexual person experiences sex.  Everyone is different.  Everyone’s story is different.

The following contains descriptions of sexual activity and may not be suitable for all audiences.


I’m lying in bed.  Waiting.  Shivering.

It’s not cold.  I’m not afraid.  I’m not even nervous, really.  I’m just shivering.  I guess it’s the unknown.  This is supposed to be a big deal, right?

She’s in the bathroom, getting ready.  This was her idea.  Do girls actually want sex?  I guess so.

Should I be naked?  I think I should be naked for this.  But what if she wants to undress me as foreplay?  Would that make me seem too eager?  Because I’m not eager.  I mean, I’m not reluctant.  I guess I’m just curious.  I think I’ll keep my clothes on.

Now I’ve gotten hard.  I guess that’s a good sign.

Do I want to do this?  She said I could back out at any time.  That was the agreement.  She’s not forcing me.  Of course I want to do this.  But why don’t I WANT to?  Like really really WANT to?  Wasn’t there supposed to be some sort of uncontrollable urge right about now?  Some kind of irresistible force taking control?  I feel…  I don’t know what I feel.  I don’t need to do this.  No, I don’t WANT to do this.  I’m willing to do this.  Willingness isn’t wantingness.

Okay, am I ready?  We bought condoms and lube earlier today, so +1 for responsibility there.  I’m still hard, so that’s another point.  I read up on what I’m supposed to do.  Is that normal?  Do people generally read up on what to do, or do they just know?  I mean, I already knew WHAT to do, tab A slot B, all that stuff.  I mean the rest of it.  Do people prepare a mental gameplan for this, or do they just go for it and figure it out on the way?  Not like fantasize about it.  I tried that, I couldn’t.  I mean like actually come up with stage directions for what I’m going to do and backup plans in case things go wrong.

What if it just doesn’t work?  She’s mentioned that she’s worried about being too small, too dry.  She said it hurt the other times with the other person.  I don’t want to hurt her.  How would I know if I’m hurting her?  The lube should help.  How deep is too deep?  How do I know how deep I am?  What if I’m too big?  She said I might be.  Or was that some sort of ego-boosting ploy?  Was that supposed to turn me on or something?  I don’t know.  I don’t care.  Should I care?  Do other people actually care about their size, or is that all just an act?

Is it all just an act?  It feels like an act.  At least it feels like I’m acting.  Is she acting?  Why would she be acting?  Why would she push so hard for this, if this isn’t something she really wanted?  Because she thinks I WANT it-want it?  It should have been clear that I didn’t.

So why am I doing this, anyway?  If I don’t WANT it.  Um, because she offered, I guess?  Because she wants it?  But that’s not all.  I do want to know what it’s all about.  It’s supposed to be amazing, why wouldn’t I?  It’s supposed to feel good.  Really really good.  Better than my hand, better than her hand.  It’s supposed to be a big deal.  It’s supposed to-… I’M supposed to.  I’m doing this because I’m supposed to.  I’m supposed to WANT it.  Maybe if I do it, I will.  Maybe there’s a slipped gear in my head and doing this will jostle it back into place and I’ll start WANTING it.  Like I’m supposed to.

There’d better not be any babies out of this.  That would suck.  But that’s why we got the condoms.  We practiced putting one on earlier.  So we should be good there.  And I read all about their effectiveness when used properly.  So hopefully no babies.

But about earlier…  When we practiced putting on the condom.  When we were completely naked around each other for the first time.  When she took me in her hand and put me inside her.  “To see if it fits”, I think she said.  I don’t know what that was about.  I guess that means I’m technically not a virgin anymore already, even if it was just for a few seconds.  Was I supposed to do something?  Was I supposed to react?  Was I supposed to get started?  That wasn’t the plan, the plan was to wait until night, just before bed.  Was that a test?  Did she want me to make a move?  It wasn’t the plan.  Why didn’t I make a move?  That could hardly be considered a subtle sign of interest.  I should have made a move.  Any other guy would have, wouldn’t they?

Of course they would.  No other guy would have waited this long to make a move.  Any other guy would have made a move that first night at her place.  Who cares that her parents were upstairs?  That didn’t stop us from doing other things.  But we couldn’t then, no condoms.  But nothing stopped me from picking up a pack on my way up.  Why didn’t I?  And why didn’t it bother me that we couldn’t?

Even this tonight isn’t my move.  It’s her move.  If she waited for me to make a move, it would never happen.  I’m just along for the ride.

The bathroom light clicks off.  The door opens.  It’s time.

She walks out in her pajamas, hair back, a faint minty scent surrounds her.  She climbs into bed.  She climbs on top of me and starts kissing me.

I don’t understand kissing.  I don’t see the appeal.  A peck on the lips is fine, and there’s that spot on my neck that gets things going, but deep mouth kissing?  That does nothing.  “Deep” being the important word here.  It feels like she’s trying to eat my face.  I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with my tongue.  It’s somewhat unpleasant.  It hurts my jaw.  She pushes harder, trying to force my mouth open wider.  I feel like a CPR dummy.  People like this?

I pull back and kiss across her cheek and down her neck.  I know I like that feeling.  Does she?

I move my hands up and down her back.  She’s not wearing a bra now.  That’s somewhat disappointing.  I kinda wanted to take it off.  Like that’s an important moment or something.

She moves to unbutton my shirt and I reach for her breasts.  The curve.  The nipple.  I caress them through her pajama top for several moments before reaching underneath it.  Shouldn’t I feel something now?  Shouldn’t I WANT this?  I don’t know what I’m doing.  I hope she likes it, because it’s doing nothing for me.

I roll her onto her back and lift up her shirt slightly.  I kiss my way up her stomach, then put my head under her shirt and begin kissing a breast.  She quickly takes off her top.  That’s the cue to take off mine, too.  I resume kissing one breast while fondling the other.  We’ve done this before.  I remember her instructions of “more pressure” when I get to the nipple.  I push with my tongue.  Is that enough?  Is this too much?  Should the pressure be constant or varied?  Is that even what she meant?

Do other guys like this?  I mean really like this?  They seem to be interested in breasts.  It seems like I should be enjoying this more than I am.  They’re kinda round, kinda squishy.  They’re okay, I guess, but I just don’t see the excitement.

Her hands are around my back.

I move up and begin kissing her on the face and neck.  I press my erection against her vulva, and she gently grinds through our pajamas.

I take my hand off her breast and begin moving southward with it.  I slowly cross her stomach, and run my hand down the outside of her leg.  I cross to the inside of the leg and work my way back up.  I cup my hand around the curve and press as I rub.

Am I supposed to talk dirty to her here?  What does that even mean?  I’d mess it up.  Anything I’d say would be ridiculous.  I wouldn’t even know where to begin.

She reaches into my pants and wraps her fingers around me.  She gently tugs.  Her hand feels numb and foreign.  I’m used to my hand, I’m used to the feedback loop.  She’s squeezing harder than I would.  She’s pressing on places I don’t press.  This feels strange.  It’s okay, but it’s not good.  Definitely not bad, just not good.  Neutral.

I reposition my hand, moving it under the elastic waistband of her pants.  I run it through her hair.  I like that she has hair down there.  I don’t know why.  I find the soft, warm flaps of skin.  I gently part them with my finger, and slide up toward the front, looking for the little nub of skin that I know is there.  We’ve been here before, too.  I’d like to get her off, but she doesn’t help me out.  I press as I trace a circle.  I don’t know if what I’m doing is working.  I’m not even sure I’m in the right place.  I guess she’ll tell me to stop if she wants me to stop.  I press a finger inside, slowly.  Soft.  Smooth.  Wet.  Warm.

She stops what she’s doing to me.  I return to spinning circles for a few moments.

She softly runs her hand across my balls, then moves to take off her pants.  I take off mine in return.

We’re naked again, for the second time that day.  She stops and looks me over.  She focuses on the area that was just uncovered.  There’s a look in her eyes.  Hunger, maybe?  She wants it.  I look her over.  It feels like an in-person anatomy lesson.  All the parts I’ve heard about are there, and I run over them in my mind.  Her breasts, her legs, her pubic hair, the little hint of labia…  But the most fascinating thing is that look in her eyes.  What is that look?  What is she feeling?

What am I supposed to be feeling?  Anticipation?  Sure.  Nervousness?  A little.  Lust?  Desire?  Where are they?  What are they?  Seeing her body is interesting, but it’s interesting in the way looking at a map of a national park is interesting.  I’ve heard about all these places, now I know how they all fit together.  It’s academic, not erotic.

She’s cute.  Her face is cute.  Her breasts are cute.  Her pale skin is cute.  The round tuft of hair is cute.  But not hot.  I don’t know what “hot” is.  She should be hot.  Other people call her hot, and they haven’t seen her like this.  She’s not supposed to be cute.  She’s supposed to be hot.  Cute is something you want to play with and pet.  Hot is something you want to have your way with.  She’s cute.  She doesn’t like that I think she’s cute.  It’s not enough for her.  But it’s all I have.

I don’t belong here.  Something’s just not right.  How long can I keep up this act?  Can she tell?  Maybe everyone feels this way their first time.

I move down and begin kissing her left thigh.  I gradually move my way up, toward the inside.

“Don’t,” she stops me.  I’m somewhat curious to try, because maybe that will make a difference, somehow.  But I move on at her direction, and kiss her stomach, breasts, face.  Was that a test?  Was I supposed to make a move there, too?  I don’t think so.  She talked about it before.  She said it felt good, but that it seemed tiring for the guy.  So maybe that wasn’t a test.

She rolls me over.  She climbs on top of me and presses her body against me as she kisses me.  Soft.  Warm.  I like the feeling as her nipples brush against mine.  My nipples are sensitive now.  I wish she’d pay more attention to them.  I try to guide her hand there, she doesn’t catch on.

She kisses down my neck, and rests her head on my chest.  I run my hands down her back and grab her ass.  My erection presses against her stomach, slightly wet at the tip.

That’s dangerous now.  Fluids and all.  I read about that.  Although unlikely, there could be sperm in that, especially after what we did earlier.  Better make sure that stays far away, until the condom is on.

She pauses as I reach between her legs to rub her.

She makes a move.  I know where she’s going.  I stop her.  Those two areas don’t touch without protection.

She rolls over to grab the condoms and lube.  We take out a condom and open the wrapper.  She takes the lube and rubs some on herself.

My erection is gone.  That’s a bit of a problem.  I know it’s just a temporary setback.  But still…  Moments away, and this happens.  I know it “happens to everybody”, but does it really?

She moves down and puts her hand around me.  She moves her face between my legs, and there’s a warm wetness of an exhale on my scrotum.  Problem solved.

I put on the condom as directed, and she applies a little bit of lube to the outside.  She wipes off her hand as she puts her head back on the pillow.

I move into position.

This is it.  This is the moment.  So why is it so hollow?  So empty?  Other people dream of this exact second for years.  They scheme and beg for it.  It’s nothing to me.

She’s lying on the bed in front of me.  Her hair falls on the pillow.  A faint smile on her lips.  Her eyes close.  Her breasts flatten and flow to the side.

I should WANT this.  I should NEED this.  I should have an uncontrollable urge to go on.  I shouldn’t be able to stop myself now.  But…  I could walk away right now and not feel any different.  Not feel like I missed out, not feel deprived.  Other guys would kill to be here right now.  But I could just go about my business and think nothing of it.

I part the lips with my fingers and guide myself in.

It’s so warm.  And enveloping.  It squeezes every part of me evenly.  It’s so different than my hand.  Better?  I don’t know.  Different.

Don’t go too far.  How will I know how far too far is?

I slowly push in as far as I think I should go.  Then slowly pull back out.  I don’t want to hurt her.  Go slow at first.  That’s what I read.

Pulling back out…  Wow.  That’s better than pushing in.  That’s definitely not something I can do with my hand.

I repeat a few times to get the hang of the motion.  I’d practiced using pillows and a plastic bag full of baby oil, but it wasn’t like this.

This alone won’t be enough for her.  That’s what I read.  I should make sure that I rub her as I go.  That’s supposed to help.  It’s awkward to twist my hand that direction.  I try to encourage her to do it, but she doesn’t take the hint.  She said tonight was about me, but I don’t want her to be left out.

Am I supposed to kiss her?  I think I’m supposed to kiss her.  But am I supposed to kiss her face or her breasts or what? Kissing her breasts seems like it’d require some uncomfortable contortions.  So I’ll kiss her face.  Hand goes to a breast.

There she goes again with the deep kiss.  How does her jaw open like that?  Should I tell her that it hurts right now?  No, that would be a bad idea.  Keep going.

In, out, in, out, in out…

I like the feeling pulling out almost all the way.  The way it softly wraps around the head and squeezes the tip.  The warmth, the pressure.  Yes, I like that.  And I like the feeling of my nipples pressed against her body.  The way they float across her skin as I move.

How long is this supposed to take?  I always hear stories of the first time ending almost right away.  Is that because they were more excited than I am?  I still have a ways to go.

How fast am I supposed to be going?  It seems like I’m going too slow, but it seems like going faster would just wear me out.

She wraps her legs and arms around me.

In, out, in, out, in, out…

I’m getting closer.

I look at her face in the dim light.  Her eyes are closed, her mouth is slightly open.  She’s lost in the moment.

In, out…  Definitely closer.

Should I be making some kind of noise?  I think I’m supposed to?  You always see that in movies.  But what kind of noise?  Aren’t those sounds natural?  Don’t they just come out in a situation like this?  Or are those sounds just faked?  I never make noise when I’m alone.

I’m on the edge now, and still nothing.  Where is the magical spark that’s supposed to wash over me?  Where’s the flame of passion?  Is this really all it is?

In, out, in, out, in, out.  Slow.  Stop.  Oh.  Right there.

My movement changes.  I feel the pressure building.  I push in.  My body goes rigid as a surge of pleasure paralyzes my body.  The automatic pulsing rhythm is the only part of me that moves.

I pause for a moment, still inside her.  I let my muscles relax, still inside her.  She whispers an “I love you”.  I respond, still inside her.

I slowly pull out, careful to hold the base of the condom as I’d read to do.  I roll onto my side and hold her.

Did that change my life?  Was that the best thing that’s ever happened to me?  Did that light a fire an awaken me sexually?  Was that earthquakes and fireworks and rocketships?  …  No.  None of that.

The warmth.  The softness.  The exquisite embrace on the head.  The brushing of the nipples.  The warm exhale.  The kiss on my neck.  The ending.  Good.  All of that.  But all physical.  All mechanical.  Emotionless.  Nerve endings doing their thing.  Felt good, yes.

I should probably take this thing off.  I have to pee, too.

Not mind-blowing.  Not amazing.  Not earth-shattering.  Not far above any other experience.  Wasn’t even the best orgasm I’ve ever had.  Far above average, but not the best.

My body liked it.  My mind?  What about my mind?  Acting in a play without a script.  Does everyone else have a voice in their head, feeding them the lines?  Or do they just improvise?  Why would they improvise?  Why would they make it up?  Why would they all play along?  Why not just give commands to kiss here, caress there, and get exactly what you want?  Why would there be a play at all if no one has the script?  Other people know the lines.  She knew the lines.  Why don’t I?

I don’t belong there.  I don’t know how to be there.

Is that all it is?  Is that what everyone raves about?  I don’t get it.

Maybe next time will be different.

18 thoughts on “Asexual Intercourse

  1. Thanks for posting this. Personally, I’m terrified of sex. I’m sort of a gassy person, and one of my greatest fears is that I’ll fart in the middle of it. I don’t think I’d ever live that down.

  2. Thank you for writing this. That was fascinating to read, and in many ways I could relate to it, even though I am female and my partner was male, and even though my experience and amount of pleasure was very different because I don’t think I was aroused at all, and even though I didn’t really even “have sex” with my boyfriend.

    I think I am a type of asexual person not only experiencing zero sexual attraction, but also no “Sex drive” at all either, and some people say “of course asexuals can still get aroused, it’s just physical and all human beings do it” but I feel like I can’t and never could.

    I don’t masturbate, I’ve never orgasmed, and I didn’t go all the way to penetrative sex with my boyfriend. But I did enough with my boyfriend when we were both naked, and I’d “deep mouth kiss” enough to completely relate to so much of what you said.

    My nipples felt a tiny bit good when my boyfriend kissed them, but it was just “slightly pleasant”, not really something worth trying to experience again when nothing else was pleasurable for me throughout the experience except for seeing my boyfriend’s excitement at seeing me naked.

    It actually hurt me when he tried to get inside my vagina with just one finger, tried to stimulate my clitoris… it was sight discomfort, it wasn’t a big deal, but I hated having to ask him to maybe be *even more* gentle, because I could tell he was trying to be quite gentle. It’s just… when not aroused, it really did hurt a bit, and I’d used tampons and menstrual cups (those can hurt too, and worse even than what my boyfriend did for sure if you don’t know what you’re doing, like when you’re first trying to put one in after having never tried using menstrual cups before) so I knew my hymen shouldn’t be the problem and cause for the pain, and I knew things bigger than one finger should be able to fit up there just fine. But there was just something about it… I wasn’t comfortable.

    And when he asked me if I wanted to touch his penis… I wanted to say yes, I wanted to just be able to do that small step of helping him find pleasure with the gentle (or stronger than that?!) touch of my hand/fingers on his erection… but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Does this make me someone who falls into the “Sex repulsed” category of people? I don’t know. I probably could have forced myself to do it, and it wouldn’t have been the biggest deal ever. I didn’t feel “repulsed”. I just… I guess I felt uncomfortable touching it when I had absolutely zero desire. I felt like I shouldn’t do it unless I wanted it more, and probably I was afraid I’d embarrass myself even since I had no clue what to do. I felt really bad for not wanting to do it though. I felt like I was inevitably disappointing him and hurting his feelings, regardless of how understanding he was and how he said it was fine and that he only wanted me to do what I wanted to do.

    And I guess because it was the first time, it was also pleasurable in an academic way or me to hear him moan (at the end when he was masturbating while I made out with him) and all of the other things that were “interesting” for me – seeing an erect penis for the first time, and to some degree seeing a penis at all for the first time (since I’ve only ever read erotic fanfiction at the most – or, I suppose, stumbled across a picture online that I did NOT want to look at and quickly changed the page from – never watched porn or really saw penises in my life).

    We actually only ever had a “second time” before we never did it again, and the second time all of those academic interesting things weren’t even a little interesting anymore, and the second time was even less fun than the first. The second time was the first time my boyfriend actually orgasmed – he’d masturbated while I kissed him both times but he’d stopped himself before orgasming the first time because he didn’t want to make a mess. I think the second time my boyfriend basically felt like he’d almost-raped me despite my assurances that no, I had wanted to participate, I had been “Willing” at least, like you said. But my lack of “enthusiastic consent”, my lack of WANTING it and us doing it anyway was making the experience really disappointing and uncomfortable for my boyfriend, probably even more than it was for me, and we left his house that day in a state of awkward uncomfortableness, knowing that this was the beginning of the end of our relationship because my boyfriend was still a virgin and deserved to be able to experience sex with a girl who actually wanted it, and because I was pretty clearly asexual now (a term I had been considering might apply to myself and researching a lot online) and perhaps sex-averse too and we just were too sexually incompatible, despite everything else.

    We took a couple more weeks before I we officially broke up, amicably, neither one of us blaming the other, both of us just wishing the circumstances were different.

    But I am grateful to know that *that* was what being naked and having sexual experiences with a guy I loved and trusted and who was gentle and understanding and all of it was like for me. I am grateful to be able to be this *sure* that having sex wouldn’t just “cure me”. I am grateful in an academic way to be able to learn this much about sex first-hand, and this much about how *I* experience it too.

    • Thank you for telling your story.
      It is definitely a comfort to have been through this and not have the cloud of doubt hanging over me now, with it’s nagging sense of “Well, maybe if I just tried it, maybe it’d be different.” I have tried it… Yep, definitely asexual. But I don’t really know how to talk to people that haven’t tried it and have those doubts. I’m torn between “If you get a safe, comfortable chance, then go for it!” and “Enh, don’t bother, it’s a waste of time!” It seems like at best, it ends up being a largely neutral experience for those who try it.

      • Exactly. I feel the same way as you. ;) It’s so hard to know what the best thing to say to someone else would be. I don’t know what I would’ve liked to hear from others had I asked specifically about if I “should try it” prior to my own first sexual experience. It’s a tricky thing and no two people are the same which makes it so much more complicated than we all wish it was.

  3. Thank you for sharing this story with so much openness! You’re right, there is a huge lack of discussion about sexual experiences from an ace perspective. As someone who has considered having sex out of curiosity but never really gotten past the theoretical, I can’t contribute myself, but these sorts of things are really useful to me, and I imagine to others as well.

  4. I think that there’s a lot of anticipation built up around first-time sex and that it’s actually disappointing for MOST people, not just asexuals. I certainly didn’t have an amazing first time. I was actually depressed for several days afterwards. There’s a lot in here I can relate to, even as a sexual person. I really feel like there’s only one major thing missing from this story that differentiates it from an experience a sexual person might write – some spark of feeling like, ok, that didn’t live up to expectations but I know it could be better. I actually had disappointing awful depressing sex with my first 3 partners and at some point I started asking myself why do I keep doing this when I’m not actually enjoying it? But somehow inside me I just KNEW that it didn’t have to be that way and eventually I proved myself right. If you don’t have that sort of knowing, there no point to torturing yourself trying to find it.

    • ‘Disappointing for most people’ that right there is exactly why I didn’t even bother thinking I was asexual. It wasn’t until I met some very… overly active gal friends that I learned that nobody was really faking liking sex. I always understood that guys liked it. As if it were programmed. But girls? I didn’t understand what they got out of it. Dicks and balls are the ugliest things I’ve ever seen on a body. But they talked as if sucking on all nasty that was appetizing. And riding on top? Exhausting. They were thrilled to. Got them ‘off’ even. I always thought missionary was pleasant because they wasn’t anything to it. And it made it go quicker. But they said that was the worst position. The most boring. And finally they would bring guys home, straight from the bar, and head right to the bedroom. I asked them about it. They inquired why I’d never thought of that. And I replied thinking why would I sleep with someone if I didn’t want to date them?
      Later they’d poke fun at me, because they couldn’t understand why I was such a prude. But I looked back and realized I’d never liked sex. I tried to be like my friends. But it didn’t work. I was asexual. And I’m happy there’s a title to it besides just ‘prude’ because I’m awfully tired of hearing it.

  5. Thank you for sharing your experience! Honestly at times it was like reading about every time I’ve had sex… even though it was from the male perspective. And you’ve put so many things into words that I could never properly explain… Especially the part about that look in the other person’s eyes and then wondering about passion and stuff. Oh and “willingness isn’t wantingness” is so important to me because I’ve been trying to explain how I’m OK with having sex, but I don’t *want* to have sex. Anyway, thanks again, it was comforting to read that other people feel the same way :)

  6. Had I been a cis guy, I would probably feel exactly like the author did during the experience(although I would be penetrating a guy, since I am homoromantic). But as a trans guy, count me as sex repulsed. Anything that is possible with the plumbing I have seems to me like a fate worse than death. If I was a cis guy, I would probably do it to my boyfriend purely for the bodily release once in awhile, even though I still wouldn’t want him doing it to me. I honestly don’t know why this act is so popular when every female assigned at birth person I know describes it on a continuum from unpleasant to extremely painful (and I’m not talking about people here who get off on pain). The ones with heterosexual boyfriends still do it, even the two cis women I know who are ace. I know I would never put a partner through discomfort or pain just for my pleasure. Or maybe because of societal pressure to like penetration or at least pretend to not mind it, they simply don’t tell their boyfriends. Or the boyfriends just don’t care.

  7. Thank you for posting this. Me and my boyfriend have been together for a few years. It was only last year that I came to the conclusion I was an Ace. My boyfriend would describe his sexual urges as if it controlled him for that time. He thought I was ‘holding back’ my ‘urges’. It was a very sad day when I told him I do not have urges and we only mess around for his benefit. I think I orgasmed once but the pleasure wasn’t that great, I felt it sure but it wasn’t (couldn’t) be what others experienced. I think sex and fooling around is a lot boring than some of the other things I would rather be doing. I feel terrible because he’s horny all the time and gets short if he hasn’t had contact for 2 days. I love him, but it sucks to keep him when he could find someone ‘better’. I ask him a lot if he wants to breakup but he says no. I don’t mind helping him get off. I find the body interesting enough so its like a sex ed/ hands on anatomy class. Sometimes I think he think he could cure me but pushing to pleasure me more which doesn’t help because it add to my anxiety and his depression (because he still thinks something is wrong with himself).
    But were together still (trying to find a balance). Thank you again for your post . I’m happy to know I’m not the only one.

  8. Thanks for the explicit account of your sexual encounter with your girlfriend. As a sexual dating an asexual, I wasn’t able to comprehend a lot of what my boyfriend of 2 years had been telling me this last year. After some research on asexuality and reading your stream of consciousness on the play by play of your endless thoughts during sex, it actually helped me understand him. I had been very frustrated with him after a year of “talking about it” and not understanding. I thought he was cheating on me, gay, uninterested, and pretty much everything any insecure person would believe…sad but true. Now, I have this newfound understanding and am able to see that it’s a HE-factor and not a ME-factor since nothing I do can change his asexuality…but hopefully, we can find a common ground. I wish you luck as well.

  9. I felt the author described what other males experience their first time; many are especially careful.

    One example of an internal dialogue I’ve had was, *notices person* “Attractive. Wonder what it would be like to see that person naked.

    From there I don’t naturally think about anything else. It’s more of mere curiosity followed by imagination. I’m not sure if this contributes to sexuality.

  10. As a young child my family was very open about sex and they didn’t hide anything from me. Around age 15 I remember thinking about why do girls like sex? I figured I will find out w hen I have sex. My biggest worry about sex was “Am I going to be able to please the guy?” I finally had sex and remember in the middle of it thinking “Is this it?” there was not any feelings associated with it even though I loved my boyfriend at the time. I thought maybe I didn’t love my boyfriend If I didn’t feel this special amazing feeling everyone talks about. So I broke up with him just to find out it will be like this with every other guy I have sex with. I even had sex with girls thinking I was gay but It was the same way and I found out I was defiantly not gay. I have sex with my boyfriend now because I love pleasing him and that’s how he expresses his love but I just express my love differently.

  11. I really really relate to this. I’m female and other than a few things, this is how it is everytime. I feel like I keep expecting more. I’ve told my boyfriend that I don’t really understand at all and I don’t get it so whenever we do things, he says “remember this, okay?” But the whole time, I’m just wondering if it’s supposed to feel like this and when the earthquake of pleasure is supposed to come. I keep thinking”maybe next time” but next time is always the same. I mean, I do it because I love him and not because I’m going to die of I don’t get f-ed tonight like everyone makes it out to be. I do it because I want to finally get it. I don’t get any of it. I don’t get why people are obsessed or why people like some of the things that happens. Well anyways, reading this almost made me cry and I’m so glad that I’m not the only one who felt this way.

    • It almost made me cry too! I hope you and your boyfriend have an understanding, at least. Because it’s been pretty hard to date a sexual person. Kuddos to you. Remember that your happiness and comfort matter too!

  12. This is seriously refreshing.. Like when I first found out I was asexual, I had already had sex with a few dudes and realized I had only been doing it because I liked them and wanted them to like me. It was hard for me to separate sex and love since everyone around me always says they couldn’t be with someone if the sex was bad. It was nice to learn this about myself, so I could stop pretending and forcing myself to do things I knew only others enjoyed.
    Unfortunately after I learned how I really was, I still tried persuing a relationship. The guy seemed pretty understanding buuut that didn’t last. He wanted sex every night. It was annoying. But I knew once again to keep a guy around, I’d have to put out a little.. I tried stepping up once though. The last time we had sex I told him I was too tired. It was late and we’d been doing it far too often for my comfort. But he replied jokingly ‘too late’ as he rubbed me. Then said ‘don’t worry you don’t have to do anything’.
    I didn’t break up with him. Instead for the next week I avoided him until he broke up with me. I was relieved.
    I’m only saying this as a tale of caution. To myself and others. I honestly can’t say I’ll ever date again. Romance doesn’t cover up the nasty and just plain stupid parts of a relationship. Its okay to say no. And never force or guilt yourself into anything. Because before you know it you’re too messed up for anyone- then you really will be alone.

  13. I think that this is really good for other asexuals to read. Not that I expect this to come as a surprise to any asexuals but I’m a virgin. I’m a soon to be 23 year old female virgin. I always wondered what it would be like to have sex but after the age of 18 i stopped wondering. I guess it was because I could do it if I wanted. But anyway I’ve never had sex I dont really plan on doing it and I feel no need to have children or to be in a relationship with anyone. I always thought for women that sex would be like adopting something aka the penis to make you feel whole. i imagined that that something that a man and woman should want with each other so that they could feel more connected to each other. But even when I had my first boyfriend who was a hunk I never felt the need to have sex with him. I would get nervous from time to time when I was around him. but never butterflies or even imagined when we would first kiss. I never had feelings for him like that and never understood why. I just never wanted to and I don’t masturbate either. I think it’s stupid. anyway thankyou for the story and to hear a man say that thats how he felt during intercourse ensures me that there’s nothing wrong with my body.

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