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Don't invite him back.

Wait, is this in the context of something other than a purely sexual relationship? In that case, hell if I know.

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Jesus, nobody has ever said THAT to me. I can see why you walked.

Do you guys ever lie and say you came? I can't bring myself to do that, yet I am not above the doing the fake. That's pretty inconsistent.

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We women are lucky - we can fake it if we have to. Not that I ever did with you, Pooky. Faked it, I mean.

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Never lied, only faked, and then, only to bring things to an end, and not with anyone I cared about.

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2. ETA and by faked, I don't mean going to the effort of like trying to feign the involuntary muscle contractions. But most guys who won't play through (who insist on me coming) don't seem to be able to tell the difference, or don't care. There generally isn't a repeat, so who knows?

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In a loving relationship.

Ew. did I just say that?

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How can you love someone who never makes you come? In a romantic way. Given that you have had no problems with the whole coming thing in other relationships.

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Assuming the loving part, and assuming you've gone a few rounds, you start instruction.

Tell him you want to try something new and give him step by step instructions on what to do. Detailed. Move his hands, fingers, cock, whatever if you have to to get everything in the right place. Demonstrate with your vibrator if he looks like he needs a visual aid. Then fucking go absolutely bananas when he gets it right. Insist in each subsequent session that you couldn't have it any other way and say something about how you've gone to another level in the relationship.

After a few times with the "new" way, if he can't learn how to do it right by himself you're going to have to throw him back.

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Ack. I've seen a "T" forest firsthand. It was frightening. When I was about 12. I used to have a newspaper route which covered three apartment complexes near my home. It wasn't a bad job for a kid, except that back in the day, we used to have to try to collect what the customers owed us, which usually meant that you had to get up really early on a Saturday to knock on doors, otherwise you would never catch anyone at home. Now this wasn't so bad, when, on certain warm summer days, the door would be answered by some young hottie in a bikini who was ready to go and spend her day at the pool. But one day. . .

I knock on this door and this old woman in her 70's answers the door in a housecoat which, much to my horror, she neglected to close completely. As she opens the door, I find myself about eye-level with these two enormous drooping cannonballs contained in an oversized cross-my-heart-and-hope-to-die brassiere, from the top of which, I swear to God, is sprouting this huge grey afro. She invites me to step inside while she went to get her pocketbook, and I politely refused. I spent the remainder of the time staring at the front porch step, until she came back with my money, and I got the hell out of there as fast as I could.

All these years later, I still cannot rid my mind of that image.

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What a pain in the ass (not literally). Are there really otherwise worthwhile guys who cannot read body language?

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If I didn't know better, I'd say this sounds like an adaptation from instructions on house training the Replaced Dog.

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What if he is a mute, I mean non-talker, in the sack?

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Positive reinforcement is key.

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Demonstrate with deed instead of word, then.

Or scrap everything I said before and just tie him down and have your way with him.

Namaste, nudes!
 

Downward dog. Yuck.

http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cg...DG9FCSNDS1.DTL