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Jacopo Fo English Blog

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ZEN AND THE ART OF FUCKING

HOW IT'S DONE

DIARY OF A PREMATURE EJACULATOR
The impossible brake

The first time I really made love was with a female friend of mine at the Arci in Turin. I was 17 years old, she 27. It was 4 o'clock in the morning. I had waited for that moment at least four years and I was beside myself with emotion. We did it lying down horizontally on the bed, she under and me on top. I wanted to be impetuous in order to look good.
I don't know how it worked, if I was good or lousy. I was beside myself. Anyway, I did it a second time. It was hard work because I didn't get an erection right away. Then, to the point, I came immediately. I was able to do it a third time, but she didn't give me the time to see how long I lasted because she made me do things with my mouth that I would never have dreamed of.
In the meantime, I was going out with a young girl who belonged to Communion and Liberation and was blonde, well built and a year older than me. But it was different with her because she would only let me place my penis on her cleft with a condom. She wouldn't let me enter, only rub against her small opening, and then she would make me come by stroking me because, even with a condom and without entering inside, she was afraid of getting pregnant. As far as I know she, never came, because if I touched her there, after a while she stopped me because she liked it too much.
Then came the feminists. We made love more often, but they wanted to come, too. They had to come before you or else you were an animal and a dirty male chauvinist. And it would happen to me every now and then to come first and she would get pissed off.
Then I fell in love with a beauty that took your breath away. She had a head full of curls, a bum that stuck out and very light blond down on her skin. It was a disaster. I came quickly three times in a row. I didn't even last 7 seconds. I was humiliated.
I was a premature ejaculator.
A blonde girl with well-shaped hips, breasts and lips, fair skin and an upturned nose raised my morale again. She knew a trick. When I came too quickly and couldn't get another erection, she pretended not to want to kiss me. I would kiss her impetuously and get excited again. She did it in a mechanical and repetitive way, but it worked. She was exceptionally wet.
We spent six nights shut up in a house in the mountains. On the fourth night, I couldn't come anymore. I persisted for more than an hour. She came 36 times and our genitals were in flames.
It was then that I began to think that I could be cured of premature ejaculation and become a Œtombeur de femmes'. I began to pay attention to everything that happened inside me during sex. I tried to identify the movements that hindered an orgasm. I looked for the right rhythm. I tried to contract the muscles of the buttocks or those of the pelvis. I tried a bunch of experiments.
They were tough years. I attained results mainly with girls that I cared little about. When, after cyclopean efforts, I succeeded in taking the wonderful woman of my dreams to bed, I would ejaculate in a flash, immediately losing my hard-won self-control.
Then I made a great discovery. Nobody forced me to move constantly during sex. I could stop. If I stopped, and if she stopped too, the excitement cooled down. But I was afraid to look silly If I stopped too often. So then I found out that, by changing rhythm and type of movement more often, the build-up of excitement broke off.
I improved my lasting time, but I remained on the razor's edge. What's more, thanks to the advice of some smooth-skinned girls who had the good heart to tell me what they liked, I understood exactly where the clitoris was.
I applied myself to the exercise of gently stroking it without rubbing it and without irritatingly pulling upwards. This way at least when I came too quickly, I knew what to do in order to satisfy the girl who kindly shared the erotic encounter with me.
But it seems to me that I found the final solution when I mastered the mechanism of contractions. By alternating sudden brakes and strong contractions in a certain area of the lower belly, I was able to indefinitely delay ejaculation.
I felt like a flying ace. The girls were enthusiastic. At that time I worked a lot at my desk. I spent eight or ten hours a day drawing. I didn't move around much and I gulped down a lot of milk products. Add to that a bit of anxiety because of premature ejaculation and a little more because I was deciding if I wanted to be a terrorist or not...
The fact is that I got terrible cystitis, burning when peeing, burning when coming. The doctors diagnosed ten different ailments. They stuffed me with antibiotics, tranquilizers, anti-inflammatory drugs and side effects. They told me not to make love anymore. I abandoned sex and armed struggle. I practised macrobiotics, tarot cards and meditation.
I tried to relax.
I tried to take things easy.
I tried to let things ride.
Then I discovered something important. I loved to suck a girl's pussy. And, furthermore, girls love to have their pussy sucked. If you kiss it for half an hour, no girl with common sense will protest if you then come quickly.
So I would suck and then I would come quickly. Even because if I contracted myself so as not to come, I became terribly inflamed and anyway to make love with the sole purpose of lasting isn't very exciting or pleasurable. This gave me peace of mind and more sexual enjoyment. I also learned to breathe deeply and slowly by using the diaphragm and filling the lungs equally without forcing and stopping the breath. It relaxes you.
So for a long time I no longer paid attention to how long it took me to ejaculated. All my attention hinged on seeing the film of what was happening. Then little by little I no longer thought of anything. I was so involved in enjoying myself that I was no longer conscious of how often I came. It was then that I began to improve. I would come quickly but enjoy myself like mad.

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