I can’t, I’m scared!

My way of thinking has always been some sort of unique, especially when it comes to sex. I am a perfectionist by nature, and fifteen years ago, when I became acquainted with tingling between my legs and sex, perfectionism played an important role. Despite the fact I was horny as hell, the perfectionist in me was afraid. A quarrel arose between my pietist head and a body full of frantic hormones. 

Although my head was a big stop sign when I was getting to know masturbation, I finally managed to calm it down with a few exercises. The bad feeling after reaching orgasm, when I would like to wrap myself in a blanket and never stick out my nose again, was soon forgotten. A bigger problem arose when sex was the one in question.

You know how it goes in porn. The woman drops to her knees, gives a special treatment to the male organ for twenty minutes, and then follows a tireless ten-minute banging until the sperm is pouring out of a man. It is more important for a woman to scream and to pretend she enjoys it. I had this in my head, and I was afraid to do something I had never done before, something I had only seen on a TV screen. How am I going to tackle a penis? How will I know what to do with it? That's what my brain was telling me. At the same time, my body was wanting sex. 

The first time a guy took off his pants in front of me and waited for me to go downstairs, my head was screaming at me, "Abort the mission!" Well, I didn't. I felt like I had a penis in the middle of my throat, I felt nauseous, and I couldn't wait for it to end. I wished I would have listened to my head, so I was grateful when the relationship ended.

I tried to make friends with a next guy's penis - at night, under a blanket so he won't see me. And it was the first time I really enjoyed it. Like a dolphin, I went to get some air, and there was a surprise waiting for me: "It was pretty good, but you were using too many teeth." My jaw almost fell to the floor. I have never been so ashamed. I was seventeen years old when I made the decision to never do that again. My advantage was the hand, the mouth was an apparent weakness, or so I thought. I stuck to my decision till now, when I started doing it again, with pleasure and without shame. And only then did it become right. No special techniques; I just had to put my brain on the "mute".

I was trembling at another thing in my younger years - the sex position where the woman is on top, riding. Oh god, how scared I was of that. My other nightmare, right after licking the lollipop. He will see everything; everything on me will jump. What if I'm not doing it right? How should I move? Where the hell should I put my hands? Looking back, I wonder what nonsense was worrying me. For the first time, I had to dive into it, whether I wanted to or not. I was the one less experienced, so I faithfully followed his wishes and of positions' selection. 

Before I had to climb the horse, I told myself to do it like I did a few years ago in riding training. Easy trot, baby, you mastered it. I managed to relax to the point that I almost had an orgasm when he wanted me to change the position. Since we never repeated it after that, I thought I sucked. So, in the long run, like lollipops, I gave up riding. Today, thankfully, I'm doing it again - quite relaxed and mostly for my own benefit.

To this day, I don't know the real reason why my head worked and still works that way. Maybe I've learned over the years that perfection doesn't exist, and I could be more carefree, at least when it comes to sexuality. Somewhere I still keep the pietist in my head; only during sex I prefer to push it deep into the sand.