I bet each of you was embarrassed during or after sex; because of things that happened to you or your partner. Women, in general, are sometimes too obsessed with the word "perfect", so it's hard to forgive ourselves for some "slip-ups ".
I fit the above description precisely to the point - I am a woman who still pulls out hair with tweezers that even an accurate epilator missed. In the early years of bedtime activities, I strived for perfection in every way. Sometimes it even ran over the pleasant tingling between my legs. Because I wanted to be a fairy godmother. Nonetheless, unwanted things happened to me that shattered the perfect image. At that moment, I would have preferred to move to another place and start all over again.
When I stopped controlling every movement and finally managed to relax a bit, the first, the most horrible moment in my life as a teenager came. Even a tripe dish couldn't compare to that. During the rather strenuous exercise and circus acrobatics, I felt like a balloon. However, since I enjoyed it, I decided not to pay too much attention to it - I am probably dramatizing again and overthinking, which will definitely distract me from the show I was involved in.
When justice was served, I fell on the bed exhausted and rolled onto my side. The balloon in me burst. As loud as it could, the peach slowly began to let out the air. Hoping the boy's head was still lost somewhere in the clouds, I was searching for a blanket to cover myself. But with each movement, it got even worse. It seemed to me that the peach was blowing the winds forever. Should I get up and run to the bathroom? Do I smile and start explaining? I didn't do any of those two things. Instead, I buried myself under the blanket and waited for it to pass. The next day we both pretended like nothing had happened.
When I kept only P from perfection and waxed legs, I experienced more strange moments. Even today, it keeps happening to me that I need to go to pee so badly that I have to stop everything and go empty the bladder. This usually happens when I already had an orgasm, but the game continues nonetheless. Then all of a sudden comes out of my mouth: "Pause, pee-wee time!"
This also happens to me when drinking a bottle of good wine is followed by sex. Alcohol has another consequence - the head is screaming 'yes', but the body resists. That's when I struggle to reach orgasm or simply give up. So I don't drink a lot before sex anymore. Especially not after I ran to the toilet during the naked fun and emptied the contents of my stomach. I did it once and never again. I was perhaps ashamed of myself even more than at the hurricane caused by my peach.
I encountered the following situation at a young age - never-ending sex. At the time, my mouth was still sealed, and I let the party continue without protest despite my orgasm. Women can experience a lot of big Os during one session! I counted the minutes - ten, fifteen, twenty. Until I just couldn't take it anymore. The peach was dry and sore. I have learned that it is better to say something even in such cases and maybe continue in some other way.
Men face similar problems, but they are embarrassed mainly by two things: they can't get a soldier ready for a party, or they end come too fast. Unfortunately, the body sometimes does not follow the head and takes its path. It never really bothered me. I took care of myself in my own way. The problem can occur when this happens too many times. If it does, it's probably best to talk to someone qualified to do it.
It's easy to laugh and be smart about past events, but I suffered quite a bit back then. My face got flushed, and all the sirens in my head were on. Despite the awkward incidents, however, I did not give up. Instead, I accepted the whimsical bodily responses but decided to keep my waxed legs.