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.
