Wellness With Her Club

We thought they didn’t want us in on their “sweet secrets” but maybe some pills are best kept for later.

Imani

I’m staring at the ceiling and let out a slow sigh. “When will this end?” I think to myself, the bed slowly shifts under our weight with an almost rhythmic sound, except it’s one I’m particularly not present for. I distractedly trace my hand down his back, and he lets out a slight grunt. I like it when they grunt. I take a deep breath, to still and ground myself back into the moment; inhaling his musky-and slightly athletic body odour. “Mmmh.” I let out a slight sound, then slowly drift back, wondering why I’m not in a situation that smells better.

What’s this?

*Starts playing Tem’s Damages

“Back then when I was a new youngie…”

New Youngie here points, way back in 2008. I had my first sexual encounter. With a girl in the school toilets. What was it like? I honestly don’t remember, which is okay. We used to have interestingly random “sexual” counters way back as little girls in boarding school. 8 years of age had me getting fingered in a bathroom. 9 years got me writing erotica and masturbating to it. 10 year old me had me fondling my then best friend’s boobs. It was something. And I enjoyed it at least lived through every part of it with joy and no “judgement”

This was the foundation though, for how we go on about this. High school found me getting gossiped about by most of the girls in my school that seemed to always have the latest tea. These guys were great freelancer journalists. News would travel faster than a plane. Most was true though, others not really. This sudden exposure to the fact that sometimes people took it out of their daily hours to gossip was news to me, and the fact that I was a topic, even more amusing, but we rolled with it.

Over time however, intercourse lost the “innocence” it had to me and my appeal for it greatly diminished especially after life started dangerously look like I was on a rollercoaster ride, and not the fun ones.

🎢

So down the hill I went, slow, then fast, then slower and then faster. Life started looking like days and like it suddenly had breaks. Stop… roll… slow still… picking up the pace…. Rolling… turning… churning… slow still. What was going on?

It took me a while to realize that it was a shift and a chance for a rewrite. Kinda like a reset. Back to square one. Everything I knew about my being was changing and I had no option but to flow and change with it, because if I didn’t, hell, it hurt. And not the sweet pleasure kinda pain. (Does that even exist?)

What gave me great pleasure, started giving great pain. It hurt. It burnt. It made no sense. And instead of stopping and tending to me, I just soldiered through like the warrior I thought I had to be. On and on, pushing my limits even in the most uncomfortable way, “oh it’s just extending my comfort zone.” But what kinda choice had I made for my comfort?