How I Found Myself Putting a Crystal Under My Bed to Harden Things by Golda Dwass

Editor Acacia Blackwell, Editor's Choice, February 6th, 2017

"We got inspired for a short while to attempt to find my g spot."

Golda Dwass Essay Nailed Magazine


I had gathered a bag of clothes for the Goodwill and mistakenly did not put them in my car right away thus making them available for my husband to rummage through. He removed a raggedy pair of grey pajama bottoms. What he seemed to like most about them was the hole in the crotch, which allowed him to walk around the house with his cock hanging out. I could be sitting watching television or lying in bed reading and not paying attention to my surroundings when he would creep up and start to dangle his cock on my neck or arm or whatever he could reach.


I have been struggling with my lack of libido leaving me with little interest in sex. Still, I feel some obligation to attempt to have a sexual relationship with my husband. It is a struggle not only because of my lack of interest but also because at the age of 74 my previously very virile husband has difficulty maintaining an erection. I have gone so far as to place a crystal under our bed, which is supposed to help harden things. The salesperson at the crystal shop did not say that it would specifically help to maintain an erection, but I chose to interpret hardening things in any way that I thought suitable.

We went through a phase where we took a few classes at the woman-friendly sex shop where we learned about finding the G spot and full body fellatio. We got inspired for a short while to attempt to find my G spot. As far as the fellatio, Simon thought I gave great blowjobs and I was not really interested in practicing those any more than necessary.

The Full-body Fellatio class almost turned me off to ever doing a blowjob again. My bad feelings about the class started soon after we arrived. I ducked into the bathroom and when I returned there was a very young looking thin woman with a Russian accent and pink hair standing up on a platform with a big dick harnessed on and sticking straight out. I cannot get the picture of that dick out of my head, especially when I am considering giving my husband a blowjob.

I still have not really figured out what full body fellatio is. I thought we would be learning some exciting new sexual techniques to spice up our twenty-seven year old marriage. Instead I am left with an extremely distasteful picture of blowjobs. The full body may actually refer to when the instructor took that dick as far down her throat as she could possibly do. There were some instructions about spitting, though at the moment I forget when you are supposed to spit. Seeing that dick being practically swallowed or the teacher demonstrating these fancy hand techniques of rapid opposite turning of both hands did not help me deal with my issues of diminished libido.

The fancy hand techniques that the teacher was demonstrating turned out to be an incredibly confusing maneuver. When I tried doing it I realized that I must not have paid enough attention during the class.

My distaste for blowjobs that the class instilled in me is a problem because now that my husband is worried about his erection, the only foreplay that he is really interested in is my sucking his cock while he spends a few moments exploring my vagina with his fingers.


So last night I was in bed with my ipad reviewing the last season of House of Cards so I would be ready when the new season begins. I need to digress for a minute and say something about our bedroom. We lived for years with flowered wallpaper, shag carpeting, and mirrors on our closet doors. I had wanted to paint the room lavender or purple but instead it ended up looking like an executive suite for a man. The walls were painted burgundy and taupe. The walls alone are perhaps contributing to my lack of interest in sex.

I was not really paying attention when he tried straddling me with the stupid pajama bottoms on and his cock dangling out. I removed my earphones so that I could hear him begging me to just give it a few licks. I could smell that he had been smoking pot and I immediately wished that I had joined in, thinking that might have put me into a more playful mood. Instead I just felt annoyed and started complaining, “God you smell smoky. Could you go shower or something?” When he’s stoned Simon’s voice becomes very loud and irritating.

Simon’s reply to my shower suggestion sounded like he was giving a speech to a roomful of people. “Why don’t we shower together?”

I responded, “I think I remember that there was a part in that erotica book that had some good suggestions for helping a woman climax as well as ideas that might help combat the squishy cock syndrome.” I had started referring to his lack of erection as the squishy cock syndrome. Typically Simon would get an erection if I gave him a blowjob but then as he tried inserting his cock it would start to soften and would feel very squishy to me. It almost felt like his cock was melting inside.

Simon found the book I was referring to. We decided that I would read each suggestion to him and he would do whatever it was unless I did not want him to.

First idea: Slowly Simon would use a circular and back and forth motion with finger pads over the entire genital area in order to bring sensation into the genitals. After a minute or so he was supposed to concentrate on my clitoris so I told him to slow down on my clitoris. I knew that I would never come-I really wasn’t into giving a detailed lesson on how to turn me on. I used to come multiple times but now I can’t.

“Why don’t you come up here and I will suck your cock. I don’t want you to lick me. I am feeling too fat.”

Simon then revealed to me his new cock ring. I honestly had never heard of one. He had stopped at the lingerie shop near the Indian restaurant and gotten advice from the saleswoman.

“You mean you told her about your erection problem? What did the saleswoman look like? Did she want to demonstrate how to use the ring?” He told me that the saleswoman was extremely enthusiastic about helping him with his problem. She had pulled out a large dildo to demonstrate the placement of the cock ring. She had even offered to get him hard so she could actually place the ring on his own penis. He had declined that offer. Simon told me that the saleswoman suggested that we have a party where she demonstrated all of the sex toys and aids.

The ring works. I was on my hands and knees and Simon, with his cock ring on, managed to stay firm enough to actually make love. I was really happy that he kept his erection. I had a good time even though I did not come. I had plans to ask him to sleep in our other bedroom, telling him he had been snoring too much and I really needed some sleep. As soon as I heard his door shut I pulled out my electric vibrator and was able to come twice. I then contemplated cutting the pajama bottoms up into very tiny pieces and try flushing it down the toilet. We have a septic tank though and I was very afraid of plugging the system up so I just stuffed them under the mattress with plans to think up something in the morning.

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Header image courtesy of Karim Hamid. To view his Artist Feature, go here.

Golda Dwass Essay Nailed MagazineGolda Dwass recently turned 65 after working as a midwife for over thirty years until her job disappeared in the economic downturn. She then became disabled due to numerous health problems. Dwass started taking writing classes–which were a help with the depression that followed losing her job. After writing stories about her mother’s battle with Alzheimer’s she got into writing about aging and sexuality. She’s been published in  Unshod QuillsPerceptions, and The People’s Apocalypse but is currently in a writing slump with a stack of rejections on her desk. Golda lives on six acres with her husband in southwest Washington where they have a large pottery studio as well as large garden and fruit trees.


Acacia Blackwell

Acacia is a writer from Portland, OR, which suits her because sunshine gives her anxiety. She is currently completing an MFA, despite being recently told by Tom Spanbauer that to become a better writer, she needs to "unlearn all that grad school stuff." She listened, and it seems to be working. Acacia is working on a collection of personal essays that she really doesn't want to admit might be a memoir, and a memoir that she really doesn't want to admit might be a novel.