I Married a Delayed Ejaculator

It has its perks, but it almost ruined our sex life

He must have told me he was a delayed ejaculator before I had sex with him. That’s my theory for why I can’t actually remember finding out my husband is a delayed ejaculator.

There was no revelation. There was no moment of surprise. I can’t remember thinking “Holy shit, is he ever going to come!?”

I just remember fucking him knowing it was going to last a while, though I didn’t fully grasp what a marathon it would be.

It was wonderful at first. I had a guy who not only could last as long as I could — he could last longer. Sex would never end before I was ready for it to end.

I also had never had an orgasm from penetration. I don’t think that was all about duration — some guys lasted a decent stretch of time, but I wasn’t relaxed enough to get there — but sometimes it played a factor. Now, I could get as many orgasms as I wanted.

The thing with my husband, though, is that he’s not just a delayed ejaculator — he’s a severely delayed ejaculator. He would never come, no matter how long we spent fucking.

At first, I made that a source of fun, too. I treated it like a challenge. I’d try to find a way to make the guy who can’t come blow his load.

I jerked him off until my wrists ached. I blew him until my jaw was sore. I fucked him until I was too worn out to continue. I gave him my ass and let him go as long as I could stand.

I kind of liked going to the limit, seeing how close I could get to reaching my goal. It was always physically demanding, but the naughtiness powered me. It gave me kind of an X-rated version of a runner’s high.

I only crossed the finish line once. I used my hands to vigorously rub the head of his cock against my tongue. I did it longer than was comfortable — way longer than was reasonable — but I got there. After months of trying, I made him come.

And that was the last time. I felt a real sense of accomplishment but holy fuck I was sore and tired.

I occasionally tried going fast and hard to see if I could make him come again. Then, I stopped trying altogether. And then, I reached a point where him not being able to come stopped being fun for me.

Just Too Much

After my first child, our sex life was less than stellar. Even after recovering from the delivery, I just didn’t have the energy to get it up anymore.

I was experiencing symptoms of a chronic illness that hadn’t been diagnosed yet. I had no idea what was happening to me. I just knew I was tired, constantly out of it, and barely interested in sex.

Being in mom mode all the time made me feel frumpy. Even though my husband was routinely trying to put the moves on me, I felt really undesirable. I just didn’t feel hot anymore and I couldn’t imagine he found me attractive.

That’s when his delayed ejaculation really started to bother me.

Not being able to make my husband come just felt like confirmation that I wasn’t sexy.

I mean, what woman can’t make a guy come if she tries?

I was already at my most insecure, and this was like a big dollop of artificial whipped cream dropped right on top of everything.

Feeling insecure was bad enough as it is, but his delayed ejaculation also made it hard for me to enjoy sex.

Penetrative sex — not the foreplay or anything leading up to it, just the penetration — could last an hour or more. That shit might have been fun when I was 18, but by my mid 20s it was just too much.

I liked having sex, but I’d always reach a point where it just felt physically demanding. I would get sore everywhere and I’d question if it was worth it.

I could have stopped it, but I felt guilty. Bad enough I couldn’t make him come, now I was going to cut his pleasure short, too?

There was no natural end-point when we had sex. I was multiorgasmic, so I could come repeatedly. He had delayed ejaculation so he wouldn’t come at all. When were we supposed to call it quits? How could I tap out without making him feel cheated?

I started avoiding sex. If I got horny, I’d usually take care of it myself. Why would I go through all that work if he wasn’t even going to come? I could just jill off and call it a day.

I’m not proud of it now, but I dealt with his delayed ejaculation by not dealing with it at all. I couldn’t handle it and I didn’t really know how to talk to him about it, and our already flagging sex life took a big hit because of it.

Better Sex Through Google Deep Dives

I got fed up with delayed ejaculation. I got fed up with feeling like shit for it. And I got fed up of not having sex because of it.

So, I turned to search engines so I could ask the internet why I can’t make my husband come.

I read article after article about delayed ejaculation. I read about death grip. And now, everything started to make sense.

Mr. Austin has phimosis, which made it difficult for him to jerk himself off in the standard way. He learned to make himself come by pressing the palm of one hand down on the head of his cock and using the other hand to push the cock back and forth rapidly.

That wasn’t something I was able to replicate and it sure as hell looked nothing like what my mouth, ass, or pussy could do.

That made me feel a lot better. It made me feel like there was a problem, but the problem wasn’t me.

And I know I should have realized that already because I’m not the first girl to try and fail to make him come. But insecurities don’t have to make sense.

My research gave me confirmation that his delayed ejaculation had nothing to do with me. It’s not because I wasn’t hot enough, tight enough, or good enough at sex. It was just his physiology.

I told my husband everything I had learned. We discussed it extensively. Worked out exactly what might be going on and came up with a game plan to deal with it.

He would work on fixing his phimosis by using a corticosteroid cream and doing some foreskin stretching exercises.

For the death grip, he’d work on getting himself off in new ways. Instead of relying on his usual method, he’d try something new. Eventually, he’d work on getting himself off in a way that I could replicate easily.

I wasn’t feeling resentful anymore — I was coming at it from a place of understanding. Now, it was an issue we were tackling together, and one I could help him with. It wasn’t an obstacle to enjoyable sex — it was a reason for us to have more sex so he could make more progress.

Finding Our Sweet Spot

I’ve come to terms with my husband’s delayed ejaculation, but getting there meant sorting out my feelings about it.

I had to learn to focus on what’s good about it but also admit that there are downsides to it and confront those honestly and openly.

I had to admit to myself and to him that there’s a huge appeal to making someone come, and it’s a bummer that I don’t get to experience that with him. I can give him pleasure, but I can’t bring him to that climactic end point.

I wish I could feel him come, know what it’s like for him to come inside me, and experience mutual orgasms while we’re fucking. But for now, it’s basically impossible.

I had to learn to accept that my insecurities aren’t easy to shake off. It would still feel very validating to make him come. It would make me feel hotter and sexier.

And it also nags at me because I’m a sex blogger. People routinely come to me for sex advice and I kind of feel like a sham because I can’t even bring my husband to orgasm.

So, all those aspects of it suck. But I can cope with them, especially when I remember the pros.

One of them is that I’m a lot less likely to get pregnant. Accidents just don’t happen, and that gives me a lot of peace of mind.

But the big one is that he can go a really long time. I know I’ll get as much sex as I want and have as many orgasms as I want, and there’s no denying that it’s a huge perk.

Sex has been a lot more enjoyable since we found our sweet spot. We figured out the accommodations we need to have a really good time together, delayed ejaculation and all.

Mr. Austin is making progress on the phimosis front. His foreskin is still tight, but he can easily unsheathe his cock while it’s soft, and if he gets hard he can usually keep the foreskin pulled back for a little while.

His death grip isn’t quite as tight as it was, either. He’s given himself some time to get off in different ways. He also started experimenting with a sex toy so he can get used to different sensations. It’s work he doesn’t mind doing at all, and it has gone a long way to increasing his sensitivity. I still can’t make him come, but I can tell he’s enjoying everything I do to him a lot more.

I’ve adapted, too. I make a point to put a stop to sex before I get too sore or overworked. I usually call it before my last orgasm and finish myself off with my vibrator. Sometimes, I’ll get Mr. Austin to fuck or finger me while I get off, but if I’m too sore I’ll just ask him to jerk himself off and come on me.

I also make sure Mr. Austin gets off every single time we fuck. If I get off and I’m done before he is, I’ll sway my bare ass and give him a show to jerk off to.

I put an end to our hour-long fucking. Instead, I’ve made more time for foreplay. We still spend at least an hour getting physical, but a lot of it now happens at the front end, with pussy eating, blowjobs, and hand action. And occasionally I’ll give him a long penis massage to pamper his cock and prolong his pleasure.

It’s fun — all of it. It’s completely satisfying. I always feel blissfully fucked after we’re done having sex.

Delayed ejaculation still defines my sex life, but we’ve found ways to accommodate it and focus on the good parts.

I still have my fantasies. I still have my little insecurities. But I don’t let them make me feel bad.

I love how much more pleasure he’s getting from sex. And just the other day, I came really close to getting him off with my mouth. That makes me happy for him, but also makes me feel really good about myself. It’s showing me that I can feel sexy and secure, and I’ll feel that way even if I never make him come.

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