By Emma Buckley-Hough, who believes flashing an ankle is as cheating
CHOOSING to live by the shackles of olden values doesn’t mean I’m a prude. At times I have not simply lain still and thought of England when making love, but of forbidden Eire as well.
But I draw the line when it comes to any form of autonomy. I should no sooner leave the kitchen alone than I would open a current account, so taking sexual satisfaction into my lady’s fingers is out of the question.
At least, until last week. My husband and I celebrated ten years of my joyful slavery in marriage, and he reminded me how proud he is I have never been corrupted by the slatternly witchcraft called a ‘climax’.
This isn’t a reflection of my husband/owner’s prowess as a lover. He’s always very attentive when it comes to satisfying his own needs and finishes with commendable swiftness.
I know he has never been swayed by the fearful modern myth of the female orgasm. We know such cannot exist because it was not detailed in the Old Testament, but upon scratching an itch in my groin with vigour I discovered it appears to have some basis.
Not only that, I commanded it. The power was intoxicating. I was soon losing entire days to the pursuit. My domestic duties, from sitting quietly at table looking pretty to swooning over flowers, were conducted with this other deed on my mind.
I’ve taken care of myself in the stable. I’ve taken care of myself in the washroom, pantry and public restroom. You name a place and I’ve rubbed myself to completion there, except for in bed with my husband. That monstrosity could cause him to wilt for good.
It’s so morally wrong which I suspect lends it allure. I feel like Sylvia Pankhurst when I lie with my hands furiously working away in an affront to masculine agency.
Am I the first woman to achieve this? We know Eve used a serpent. Surely if my sisters knew we could bring ourselves off endlessly then that’s all we’d ever do? For we do not have the self-discipline of men to forswear it.
To that end, I have ended my congress with myself. My life will be one of silent abstinence from here on. My only climax will come from riding my bicycle too enthusiastically. Thankfully our road is cobbled.
