The Asexual Whore
I sometimes feel like a walking contradiction. My days are spent creating content and experiences for others to use for gratification, when in reality sex is something I rarely do. So much of my time is spent in the sphere of kink and sexuality that it is hard to ever pin down a moment where my thoughts aren’t touching on something erotic.
Hypersexual and celibate at the same time, my existence has been a source of endless confusion to most people that have attempted to get me off. Why is it that when we talk about porn and masturbation everything is fine, but once the subject changes to their desire to penetrate me I feel myself recoiling- sometimes withdrawing so far inside my own mind that the interaction ends then and there.
A lot of people might think that my oddity is a result of some sort of sexual abuse I endured growing up, and I can’t say that my childhood was completely free of innapropriate experiences, but I was never raped or forced into anything. I think I had a normal sexual development all things considered- well, as normal as you can have in the sexually repressed bible belt.
The truth is that I’ve always been this way. My body responds to the build up of sexual tension- a brush of a hand, the smell of perfume, a deep voice saying just the right words at just the right time- much more than the the act itself.
When I trace a line through memories of crushes, relationships, and even one night stands of the past it’s always been the same. I want to be close to them. Kisses, cuddles, hugs, and quality time together filled most of my fantasies. My sexual thoughts were always focused around how to make them orgasm. Even in my wet dreams my orgasm comes from simply being with the person in some kind of embrace, genitals rarely ever even come into play.
That being said, the world of sex and eroticism has always drawn me in. So much time in my youth was spent in online communites I had no business being in reading writing and roleplaying scenarios far outside my actual understanding- simmering for hours in growing arousal before finally giving in and masturbating to orgasm.
I used to deal with so much guilt after cumming. I was ashamed of the sites I visited and the interests I had. Because everyone in my life kept the subject of sex under such a tight lid I was convinced that I was some sort of awful pervert.
Somewhere along the line I realized that the way I was brought up didn’t necissarily match with reality. All of these people were on te internet doing the same thing as me. We all had our secret identities, hiding our real selves from the rest of the world. If everyone was a pervert… then maybe there are actually no perverts at all.
This was a fun part of my life. I started to explore sexually with other people, doing all kinds of kinky stuff my family would have balked at if they knew. But more often than not I would feel a sense of disappointment.
My partners were always great, but no matter what the actual act never ever lived up to the hype. It didn’t make any sense. I loved them, I loved to be horny, I loved learning about any and every fetsih…. but I didn’t love doing it.
I think this probably was hardest on my ex. I was so unsure of what I wanted and always sending mixed signals. I would come into the room and crawl onto his lap seductively, move my hand up his knee and feel his cock stiffening… I’d initaite making out, I would pull his hands to my breasts and then as soon as it became clear Sex was starting I had cold feet.
Was there something wrong with me?
I started to reign in any expression of my sexuality after a while. Clearly I didn’t want to have sex, so it was unfair of me to initiate. By day I pretended sex wasn’t a thing; by night I snuck off to masturbate alone.
I remember thinking at one point that maybe I was asexeual… I had seen a lot about that online. But then why did I masturbate? Why did I get turned on at all? Why did I like to turn on someone else?
You can probably imagine that for me living that way was hard and short lived. Nun life very clearly isn’t for me. My desire to get off, and to get other people off, started bursting at the seams. Something had to give or I would explode in a ball of UST (unresolved sexual tension, for those of you who didn’t spend their teens “shipping” characters on tumblr).
When I accidentally discovered gooning one night I was unknowingly uncovering the key to myself. Not because gooning is awesome and mind blowing, which it is, but because there were so many people that talked about gooning that sounded just like me. It was a random gooner who introduced me to the concept of solosexuality.
There were other weirdos like me out there who would rather masturbate and there was a word for it. I was stoked. All my problems weren’t magically solved because I discovered these terms, but knowing that it wasn’t just me empowered me to think differently about my own sexuality.
Words like gray-asexual, solosexual, demisexual are becoming used more and more prevalently. It turns out I’m not so weird after all. These words don’t explain why I am how I am- I think only therapy can do that. But they give me permission to worry about it less. I’ve been able to say “so what” to a lot of my old worries.
So I don’t want to have sex, so what? It’s not mandatory to fuck to be sexually satisfied. If whoever I’m with feels differently, we aren’t right for each other.
I’m still aware that for most people a sex worker who loves to give blowjobs but refuses to fuck is still pretty confusing, but I think as time goes on it wont be that shocking. If there’s one thing my time on the internet has taught me it’s that we’re all weird- and in that way no one is really all that weird at all.
