Sex With A Guy & His Erectile Dysfunctional Dick

The continuing tale of a date with a guy I tried to dump.

I wish I could title this article, “Super Hot Sex With a Hot, Powerful Man Who Has a Proper Working Dick” but alas, here we are.

This is a continuation of my tale about a date with a guy I tried to dump.

Sean’s dick has barely worked in the 10 months we’ve been dating. It seemed like he was only interested in me as a Friend With Benefit however the “benefit” part of that arrangement was lacking for me.

Upon trying to break up with him, he stepped up his game. Sean explained that he can’t in good conscience settle down when his work schedule is erratic and requires him to travel 75% out of the month. After a horrific night of two hours of naked time with only forty-five seconds of combined erection time, I decided I was done.

I told him there would be no more undressing until he took me on a proper date. That should buy me time, right? I had already tried to bring up his wonky dick issues (by blaming it on me, like I was the reason perhaps his dick didn’t work) but he deflected and made it sound like his penile woes were a one-time thing.

The next thing I know, I’m dressed up and on a date with Sean.

If you didn’t read the article with the first part, you’re all caught up.

The date with Sean was fantastic. I forgot how nice it was for a guy to not think twice about picking up the check or dropping cash for a nice bottle of wine. We talked nonstop. We laughed nonstop.

And yet, the return to my place loomed large in my brain. I made a mental note to not tolerate hours of the usual routine; his dick goes soft, I revive it with my mouth, he’s hard for a whopping ten seconds, possibly gets it in me for a few thrusts, then back to the mouth revival.

Nope. Nope. I vowed to get the courage to put an end to things if that happened. I’m also seeing Thomas who is a motherfucking rockstar in bed. I’m not desperate to get laid by Sean.

We walk outside towards Sean’s fancy-schmancy BMW. I know not to rush too fast to get in because he’s the type who always opens the door for me. Gentleman, you have no idea how much it matters to be consistent with that kind of behavior.

Before opening the door, Sean spins me around and passionately kisses me. His hands are up my dress, fingers plunging into me. What he lacks in penile activity he somewhat makes up for with excellent finger skills. He makes me cum a few times before we hop in his car.

This will be a great night of sex, right? It has to be great. Everything has gone perfectly up until this point. I’m like Sally to Linus, with cartoon hearts popping over my head.

We get to my place and I realize I can’t take off my heels. With all the work I do to get this new house moderately up to modern times, my nails are a disaster. I wore fake nails for the date but that leaves me helpless to undo shoe straps.

Sexy as ever, Sean kneels and takes off my shiny patent leather pink heels. There’s no question that the next step is to lead him to my bedroom.

Clothes come off and we’re rolling around, his fingers working their magic. My sexual satisfaction quotient is sufficiently high. I put my hands between his legs and am not surprised that he’s softer than Play-Doh.

“He gets one minute of my mouth and then that’s it,” I mentally promise.

My anxiety is at an all-time high. I’m one minute away from having The Talk. What will I say? Do I tell him that he just needs to get on a blue pill so my TMJ can have a break? Do I play dumb again and ask if I’m simply not hot enough for him (I may have shitty self -esteem but I sure as fuck know that’s not the problem)?

What’s the proper way to tell a guy you’re not in a committed relationship with that he needs to get his dick fixed without damaging the one source of pride for all men?

I lean over and begin the usual routine with my mouth. Within seconds and barely hard, Sean tells me he’s about to cum.

“Do you want me to cum?” he moans. I’m practically chomping down on his dick with my enthusiastic reply. “Where do you want me to cum?” he asks.

I tell him to finish in my mouth. There’s no way I’m risking an alternative that would make him not finish like our previous naked tryst.

And that’s it.

There was no wild banging until dawn. Sean didn’t pound away until I couldn’t walk or see straight.

But on the flip side, I wasn’t trying to resuscitate a dead dick for hours on end. So…success?

Sean is a cuddler after faux-sex. It’s the only time he gets ultra chatty. He holds me under my bedsheets yapping away. Meanwhile, my brain is spinning. Why am I relieved that I dodged a limp bullet?

Eventually, he tosses on his clothes and heads out. We’re both happy and glowing. I teasingly tell him to text and let me know he got home safe.

Was this an exciting tale of sexual fantasies come to life? Absolutely not. I wish I was writing a detailed article about a hot, sweaty night that ended up with loads of man goo in my swollen but happy girly bits.

This wasn’t the Saks Fifth Avenue of sexy evenings. At best, it was the Walmart of naked fun.