You want to give me an orgasm. That's actually what you say. Your face is tucked into my shoulder and the words are muffled but I can still hear them.
I've heard it before. It always comes up. I'm asked how I can live without sexual release. What do you mean, you haven't had an orgasm? It's a basic human function. I'm stared at with wide eyes, scrutinized and measured and eventually written off as one of those unlucky bastards who don't understand how sex works and have never had someone experienced do it with them. You're thinking that I must be uncomfortable with myself. Have you even tried? Dumbfounded, you put your hand on your face, rub once up and once down. How many times have you tried? Your mind is off and running. You tell me that your ex-girlfriend couldn't orgasm until she met you and then, oh boy, it was orgasm city. You can do it for me. You will fix me. I am broken, and you are here to save the day. Once you have one, you'll be an addict.