Shares
I was sexually conservative. Back when I was single, I let myself go a few times, but my head was mostly filled with phrases like a nice, Jewish girl doesn’t enjoy sex. That was about to change.
(We were married for 15 years). And our sex hadn’t been great when we had it, thanks to, among other reasons, my repression and a medication I was taking. So, at age 70, I was practically a virgin. I asked my doctor to change my medication to something else, and he did. Now I wanted mad, passionate, down-and-dirty sex. But how?
Orgasms had never come easily to me, but I had never thought of mentioning it to a doctor or therapist to see whether there was something available to help me. Finally, I did. My urologist, a woman, suggested I get a vibra.
Thirty years ago, a married cousin mentioned she used a vibrator and suggested it for me. Interesting, I said, while scoffing at the idea. I couldn’t imagine myself stooping that low. And I didn’t have a high regard for porn, either, labeling it as disgusting 
. I thought people who watched porn were either deviant, desperate or both. Now, those judgments flew out the window. I was ready to stoop.
I drove to a specialty shop in West Hollywood. The name alone gave me heart palpitations: Pleasure Chest. But I was quite surprised when I got there. The products were laid out nicely. The salesgirl was helpful and easygoing. I almost felt comfortable.
There were so many items to choose from! I decided on something called Budding Bliss. I bought a porn DVD. Why not? If I was going to stoop, why not stoop all the way?
Much to my surprise, I began having orgasms. It became my new hobby. Orgasm in the daytime (afternoon delight is what a friend called it), and orgasm in the evening. This went on, incredibly, for two weeks. And then the orgasms stopped. I seemed to need greater or different stimuli to be able to climax.
By Lynn Brown Rosenberg
I mentioned the problem to my therapist. I told him I couldn’t spend endless money on porn DVDs. He told me there was free Internet porn. My horizons were expanding.
I found some hot stuff on the Internet. I watched couples getting each other off, as they say, or rather the woman getting the man off. It was very one-sided, but it was still titillating. I especially liked to hear a man sigh or moan. The more I heard male voices, the more I could use that in my head when I wanted to climax later. Why didn’t I masturbate while watching the porn? Sitting at my desktop computer didn’t lend itself to that. I needed to lie down and get comfortable.
On the free porn site, I stumbled across a clip that I watched many times. The way the man moaned and sighed affected me immensely. I discovered I loved watching a man cum and hearing his expression of release so much so that I wanted to get inside the video myself. I wanted to be the woman pleasuring him.
And then came the video, the one I would take notes on, the one I would recite to each new man after which I’d be told I was amazing. You don’t see the man’s face. You only see his hard cock and a woman, nude, sitting on the bed, stroking it with both hands. What made it so erotic was what she said. She didn’t lick it, suck it, or fuck it. She just talked.
