Nymphophobia

"This could be our reward. This could be it. This could be our reward - this simple  Friday night, where you're loosening your tie..."
- Hey Rosetta!, There's An Arc

I am trying to understand why I am so nervous about moving beyond kissing with Wrecking Ball. I will now make a list of every reason that I have come up with so far, and then I will add a few more just to see what happens (a prof of mine, before I dropped the course, said that if you push and keep writing without knowing what you intend to say, you can really surprise yourself with the things you come up with).

- He has only been with one girl: what if I am not as good as she was?
- Our relationship now is so simple and good. Like my dad and experience have told me, sex changes things. What if they don't change for the better?
- What if we turn into Acadia and I - just fucking because we are bored, or because we feel like it is what we're supposed to do? I guess this is an extension of the above.
- What if he isn't ready but he lets it happen anyway and then he regrets it? I don't ever want to be someone he regrets.
- I'm not even sure I am ready for this. I feel almost like a virgin again. Fuck, Cowboy and I did it on the first date. The longer Wrecking Ball and I wait, the more I feel like it is going to be a Big Deal, and I have never let sex be that. It is a level of physical intimacy above anything else, yes. But I don't tie emotions to it as much as most people do. Well, except for the feelings of being validated, of being real, of being wanted - read Loose Girl if you haven't. I have the same feelings she does.
- Sex is really taking our relationship up a level. I have this crippling fear of fucking us up. Once we have had sex, the collapse of the relationship becomes more painful. I don't want him to hurt like that. Simple solution is to not fuck things up, I know. But... I don't know... I don't trust myself.
- I'm just scared something will go wrong, because I have this built up a lot in my mind. Sex with Wrecking Ball has the potential to be earth shattering. When I had sex with Dragon last year, it was explosive despite the fact that he wasn't good (he stuck it in my ass. Without asking. Without lube.) and I believe this was because of how long I had wanted it. It will be the same with Wrecking Ball, only I have been told he is good. So, try as I might to avoid this, my expectations are high. Very high. Like, I think I actually expect an orgasm.
- I am afraid I will fake an orgasm. I do this a lot. It started with Acadia. He fingered me at a school dance and I was worried I would be too vocal if I let him really finish me, so I faked a small, quiet one, and that made him stop. That was a lesson I took to heart: if I gasp and squeak and tighten my muscles, he stops touching me. And I did love him, and I did want him to touch me, but for some reason I didn't want him to finish me, so I would fake it and he would stop. I am not incapable of experiencing an orgasm or even multiples with a partner - if the guy doesn't stop after I have faked one I do get one. But faking them became a habit. I have faked them with every male sexual partner that I have had (my affair with Love was before my revelation about stopping the action, but I trust her so much, I probably still wouldn't fake it with her). I don't want to fake it with Wrecking Ball. But I think that makes me more afraid than anything else. I don't think I know how to have sex without faking an orgasm. There have been many sexual encounters that I have had in which I could not tell you for sure whether or not I had finished. I just don't want that with him though. It isn't fair to either of us.

Reasons #4 and #7 (if I counted right... I meant him regretting it and me expecting too much) were a surprise to me. I didn't realise I was concerned about those things until now. I guess that prof was right.

I have a wonderful fantasy about really doing this. I can see it in my mind. It is dark in his room, the bed is rumpled because we have been making out. I can imagine his fingers on my bare skin, my arms, my sides, tugging at my pants. If I try hard I can feel my own fingers trailing down his chest, working at his belt. Our hair in our faces but we ignore it because we'd rather pay attention to one another's mouths. His scent, his warmth. The feeling of his skin on mine. Then the fantasy gets a lot less sensual - I know what a penis feels like, but I don't know his, and imaging a random dick just doesn't feel right. But I imagine our rhythm... our hands...

Despite the fact that I found eight very good reasons why I am not ready to have sex with him, that fantasy is like a small heaven in my mind. I visit it a lot. That's probably why I'm so concerned about my expectations.