WHEN IS A MAN A MAN?

Mrs. Darling:
Oh dear, now it’s happened to him too. Mr. Schatz just doesn’t want to stand his ground and I’m quite amazed. Erectile dysfunction. My first reflex: I want to comfort him somehow. Because, as a woman, I don’t think it’s that bad. I’m not always aroused on command. My maternal consolation, of course, is exactly the wrong thing. He also suffocates his last spark of pleasure. I would probably feel the same way. Too much attention sometimes makes things worse. And now? The erotic mood threatens to tip over. I let go of him and start stroking myself. Playful. Lascivious. Provocative. Completely with me and yet with him. The pressure is gone, but the passion remains. I almost forget how he’s doing, Mr. Schatz. But only almost. Men are not machines.

Mr. Schatz:
So that’s what it feels like, the masculine meltdown, the inner meltdown. Great, now the stress at work is where I don’t need it. Thank you, boss! I feel small, in the true sense of the word, and I’m incredibly embarrassed by the slump. Because I can’t deliver, I can’t function. I’ve read and heard about it before, but now I know what it feels like to be tired. My mind is racing and I’m at a loss for words. I would prefer to be alone now. Mrs. Liebling’s pity only turns me off even more. And suddenly, she leaves me alone – but not herself. Luckily. I can tell she’s busy with herself. Hmmmh, I like it! It takes time for my carousel of thoughts to turn more slowly. It helps me to know that sex is also a matter of the mind. Feels good now.

(c) svea_anais_perrine_photocase

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