The trip to the sexologist now takes me about 1.5 hours, but it’s worth it. After not going for more than a month, because of the company in my town going bankrupt, and both of us being very busy, we resumed our talking session today.

After the initial chatting about me moving (did that yesterday, in the scorching heat of 30-35 C°) and about how my week with the boyfriend had been (very, very nice), we talked about the sexual stuff that had happened. We had been watching a movie on Thursday afternoon and it was bad. Like, extremely bad. A thriller which played anticipatory music the whole time, so there was no suspense any more, and the events in the beginning (“creepy” young kids, babies buried under the ground with startling blue eyes, girl that hears voices telling that she has to give birth while not being pregnant) were not scary at all.

Anyway, the boring movie led to kissing, that led to touching and stroking each others bodies, first above and later under our clothes, which in the end culminated in giving each other an orgasms. It was really, really nice, also because our last making out session had been a while ago, and that had not gone this “far”.

My sexuality is waking up again, quite slowly. It seems like a barrier, which was quite stable before, is giving way bit by bit. Sometimes I can break through it, as described above, sometimes I only look to the other side, as when wanting to kiss and to “more”, but not feeling able or secure enough, but it is really getting better.

But there is also still some part that is still very difficult and problematic: penetration, in any form. That was the main topic of today’s therapy session. Tuesday I had masturbated, despite the immense heat which still lingered until late in the evening. All my toys were packed already, so I could only use my fingers. After my first orgasms I still felt aroused and was quite wet, so I fucked myself with my fingers. I really enjoyed the feeling, but very soon (within seconds) I felt really sad. So I stopped again, tried to focus on the sadness, and gave myself another orgasms when the sadness had subsided a bit.

This is not new, I’ve had this for about a year, since the thing with the Viking happened. The first months when I started to discover sex again with the boyfriend it was gone for a while, but I did have it the last time we had sex when I did it more for him than for myself. And after that event, all the time I tried to penetrate myself with fingers or objects.

I must add here that this is different from the “normal” crying that happens to women sometimes after sex (as in fucking) has been really intense or good; I’ve had this too sometimes, and it feels different. The former is pure sadness, the latter is just physical after a good sex experience.

The sexologist asked me detailed questions about the thing, about what had happened precisely, how it made me feel, how he had reacted, everything. In the end she concluded it could have been rape. I choose not to call it like that normally, but on some levels it was, I think. We are going to explore this further, because the association “penetration => extreme sadness” is one I’d love to go without.