Second Bloom: After Menopause Sex

The scent of lavender and desperation hung heavy in the air of our master bedroom, a scent I’d come to recognize as the perfume of lost passion. Thirty-one years of marriage, and lately, it felt like a slow, agonizing march toward a desolate wasteland. Menopause hadn't just stolen my youth; it had stolen my desire, my joy, my very essence. The hot flashes, the night sweats, the relentless vaginal dryness – they were constant reminders of the body I was losing, the woman I used to be. My husband, David, bless his patient soul, tried everything. He’d shower me with affection, whispering sweet nothings, but it was all just a hollow performance, a desperate attempt to recapture a magic that had long since faded. The pressure he put on me, the constant pushing for an orgasm, only served to crush the last embers of what little remained. It became a brutal cycle of frustration, disappointment, and silent tears. I felt like a failure, a broken toy discarded by a careless child.

The weight of aging parents added another layer to the misery, pulling me away from my own needs, forcing me to prioritize their well-being over my own pleasure. It was suffocating. The thought of intimacy felt like an impossible dream, a distant echo of a time when sex was a vibrant, passionate affair. Then, fueled by a desperate hope, I embarked on a journey of self-discovery, determined to reclaim my sexuality. I started researching, devouring every article, book, and forum I could find on the topic of pleasure after fifty. The internet became my confidante, a digital sanctuary where I could explore my desires without judgment.

I stumbled across “Sex for Grownups: Dr. Doree Reveals the Truths, Lies, and Must-Tries for Great Sex After 50,” and while I found some helpful information, I quickly dismissed the author's rather narrow-minded views on homosexuality and pornography. Thankfully, Ian Kerner’s “She Comes First: A Thinking Man’s Guide to Pleasing a Woman” and “Passionista: The Empowered Woman’s Guide to Pleasing a Man” offered a more nuanced approach. These books, coupled with my own growing knowledge, ignited a spark within me, a flicker of excitement that I hadn’t felt in years.

One of the most profound insights from Dr. Doree’s book was the importance of regular masturbation for menopausal women. The act of self-stimulation, she explained, could help increase blood flow, boost libido, and ultimately, reignite desire. I’d always considered masturbation a taboo, a shameful secret, but now, it seemed like a lifeline. Shame gave way to curiosity, then to experimentation, and finally, to a genuine enjoyment of my own body. I started ordering vibrators, beginning with a basic bullet vibrator, then progressing to a more powerful, multi-faceted model. I also purchased an APEX-M Kegel pelvic wall stimulator, a device designed to target the muscles surrounding the vagina, enhancing pleasure and promoting arousal.

Each day, I would tell David I needed some “me time,” retreating to the bedroom and closing the door behind me. The act of locking myself away felt both liberating and slightly guilty. As I delved deeper into my own pleasure, I found new ways to excite myself, exploring different rhythms, pressures, and angles. I discovered the exquisite sensitivity of my clitoris, the tantalizing tension of my vaginal walls. It was like rediscovering a forgotten part of myself, a hidden garden blooming with forbidden delights.

As my body responded to these new sensations, my communication with David began to shift. In the past, I’d tried to convey my needs, but my words felt inadequate, lost in the silence of our increasingly strained intimacy. Now, armed with a better understanding of my own desires, I could articulate them with clarity and confidence. I would describe the sensations I was experiencing, the specific points of pleasure I was seeking, and the way I liked to be touched. It was as if a dam had burst, releasing a torrent of pent-up emotions and long-dormant desires.

David, initially hesitant, gradually embraced this new approach. He started to pay closer attention to my body language, learning to read the subtle cues that indicated my level of arousal. He would ask questions, seeking to understand my needs and preferences, and he actively listened to my responses. The dynamic between us began to transform, shifting from one of obligation and frustration to one of mutual pleasure and excitement.

The hormones, coupled with my newfound self-awareness and David’s attentive care, began to work their magic. I found myself yearning for intimacy, craving the touch of another human being. The thought of our shared pleasure filled me with anticipation and excitement. I called David in the middle of the night, begging him to finish me off, desperate to lose myself in the depths of passion. He answered without hesitation, his voice thick with desire.

One evening, after a particularly stimulating session of self-pleasure, I found myself completely consumed by lust. I realized that the journey had not only restored my desire but had also transformed our entire relationship. Sex was no longer a chore, a source of frustration, or a means to an end. It was a celebration of our love, a testament to our resilience, and an opportunity to reconnect with the joy of intimacy. The memory of my former shame faded, replaced by a sense of empowerment and liberation. I was a woman, reborn, ready to embrace her sexuality with confidence and abandon. The scent of lavender and desire still lingered in the air, but now, it smelled like victory. As I lay there, entangled in David’s arms, I knew that we had not just survived menopause; we had thrived. And it all started with a closed door and a willingness to explore the hidden corners of my own being.

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