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Suffocated by the Sex

     by Max Mooseman, author of Bastard! A Mushroom Trip

I have been in a relationship with my partner, Harper The Fox, for nearly eight years now. An amazing level of understanding develops over that amount of time. By example, Harper woke up next to me a few days ago and simply said, “hi.”

 I knew immediately she had woken from a bad dream. The tone in her voice from that one word told me not only that something was wrong but specifically what that something-wrong was. Somehow, I learned the subtle inflections that say “bad dream” in Harper language. I felt very close and intimate from this understanding. How many people get to this level of connection with anyone?

Every Yin has its Yang, and yesterday I got Yanged pretty good. Harper and I were having some nice relaxing afternoon sex after a long dry spell. It is important to mention I had said out loud that I didn’t want to cum during this session. Harper and I had porn to shoot later on and I find it harder to work if I have already performed the big finish. 

Harper had been pampering me as she often does and then began riding me. As she grinded her hips I could see the escalating peaks of pleasure climbing toward orgasm. After several near misses I saw the resolve cross her face to catch the crafty little cum monster that kept slipping from her grasp. 

Harper went from riding me at a right angle to grinding hard while laying flat on top of me covering my face with her breasts. I imagine you are thinking something along the lines of–AWESOME!

I feel embarrassed writing this next part but, for me, not so awesome. I panic in this position. I feel like I can’t breathe. When this kind of panic happens during sex I usually, immediately, ejaculate. This so called orgasm happens with all the shaking, shooting, and sensitivity of a regular finish but with none of the good feeling. It is the armed robbery of release. Anyway, it happened. I cream pied my embarrassed stomach in its stupid face and felt horrible about it.

I was upset. Harper was hurt. I asked for a couple of minutes and went to the bathroom. We both were confused and unsatisfied. Cleaning myself off in the bathroom, I came to a realization. I had never clearly told Harper that the position she had chosen makes me panic. I had used words like, “slow down” and “wait” and “no, no, NO!” How was she supposed to know any of those things meant “when you lie on me in this certain way I need you to know it feels really dangerous to me so please pay close attention and approach it with care?” This is one of Harper’s go-to positions to get off and I have always hated it and I had never even formed the sentences in my head to express that feeling. How does this happen?

I invited Harper to sit with me and talk. I told her that what I had to say might make her feel bad but that I thought what had happened was on me because I had failed to communicate what I needed. I explained the basics of what I have just written here and then drew an analogy to me putting it in her butt. It’s not that she never wants it, or that it can’t be fun. It is just risky and I really have to make sure she is okay when that is what’s happening. 

She got it. We cried a little to wash away the stress. We filled the washed out space with laughter and we hugged. Everyday, we understand each other a little more and every once and awhile I am still taken aback by the unfilled spaces of understanding.


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