I want to enjoy sex but I can’t stop worrying about my breasts

Welcome to How I Do It, the series in which we give you a seven-day sneak peek into the sex life of a stranger.

This week we hear from Georgia* a 28-year-old journalist working in New York City, who is married to her husband, Aaron*.

The pair used to enjoy dirty talk, but lately, Aaron hasn’t been so vocal. It’s coincided with Georgia being diagnosed with two fibroadenomas in her breasts.

These non-cancerous lumps have caused her discomfort, making them tender to touch. She’s been left feeling self-conscious, and wonders if it’s impacting Aaron too.

‘I’ve been scared that this will ruin the most pleasurable and fun part of having sex with my husband,’ she says.

‘But I’m open-minded, and I’m eager to experiment with what works for us both.’

Without further ado, here’s how Georgia got on this week…

The following sex diary is, as you might imagine, not safe for work.

Monday

I wake up in the hotel room and immediately check the calendar on my phone — my fibroadenoma appointment is in exactly three weeks. I’ll be consulting with a surgeon about removing the lumps.

I had always been comfortable with my body and breasts, thinking they suited me perfectly, until the fibroadenoma arrived. Now, I wish I could be slimmer, because this operation could make my breasts smaller. I’m afraid I’ll look odd after this whole ordeal.

Aaron and I are currently on my birthday weekend trip in Houston, Texas, where we’ve been since Saturday afternoon. We’ve already had sex four times which is much more than our average weekend at home, embracing new moves including a face-sitting position and a reverse cowgirl one.

Aaron is encouraging me to be more dominant in the hopes of making me feel more ‘proud’ of my body right now.

Tuesday

It’s warm in between the sheets this morning, and we start to get it on.

We do some pushing tush (missionary where the receiving partner can stimulate the anus of the penetrating partner), the rocking horse (cowgirl where you’re both sat up holding each other), and happy scissors (where the receiving partner lays on their back with their legs spread wide, while the penetrating partner thrusts and holds a vibrator to the clitoris).

Sometimes it hurts when Aaron touches my left breast, where the largest lump is, and a little less with my right one. He’s been shy about touching them — I wonder if he feels sorry for me, or he doesn’t know how to handle them anymore.

Aaron is more quiet than me. He just moans, and takes long breathes. He used to talk dirty to me, and I miss that version of him. We used to be hyper excited to discover every inch of each other. 

I try to initiate more dirty talk, but nothing really comes out. It annoys me, as I feel like him talking would distract me from these lumps.

I let it slide, but I want to ask him tomorrow what’s going on.

Wednesday

Aaron and I have a good conversation. He tells me he thinks too much about what to say during dirty talk, and it ends up coming out all wrong and rushed. So, when we start having sex, I encourage him to improvise.

His reaction is pretty bland, with a quick nod and a smirk. Honestly, I can’t catch the words he is saying.

I just end up saying ‘yes’ multiple times to phrases and words that I can barely understand. He comes, but I don’t.

I decide to masturbate while he’s in the bathroom, getting ready for our brunch date. Today my breasts are a little bit more tender, but I manage to gently touch them.

I zone out and imagine Aaron dirty talking to me.

Thursday

We’re back from Houston to the frenzy and chaotic atmosphere of New York. I have so many deadlines to take care of and Aaron’s cute self is distracting me.

Trust me, I want to spend the whole day in bed, but I need to attend meetings and run errands. He understands I have work to do, so today he chills by himself.

I’d say we’re very good at respecting each other’s boundaries, and besides, my groin is still recuperating from everything we got up to in Houston.

Friday

Today I work at the office and by the time I’m home, I’m tired.

We didn’t actively plan on having sex tonight, but we end up in bed. Aaron’s penis isn’t getting as hard as usual, and it’s making him self-conscious.

But in this moment, something shifts. He becomes more vocal with his needs. ‘I need a moment, I don’t know what’s happening’, he says, and I’m glad to hear him opening up. 

He senses that I’m excited though and it seems seems to spark something in him. He starts dirty talking, his energy picks up, and we both smile, sharing a feverish connection.

I don’t even get to think about the fibroadenoma much. I let go of a gentle moan and laugh.

Tonight, in between fingering, we tried the stacked snakes position, where I lay down face first on the bed, but lift up my hips and he thrusts from above.

I’m reminded that Aaron has always been good at quietly taking note of what I like and don’t like, and when I least expect it he gets to perform that touch, position, or move that I’ve been waiting for.

I’m tired, but very happy.

Saturday

We make love for five hours straight, from 8am to 1pm. I know I should be working, but I allow myself to let go completely.

My day starts at 2pm. I spend hours working on my articles until 2am. It feels like I barely have a moment to breathe, but I know prioritising Aaron this morning was the right choice.

Sunday

Aaron wants to make love again, but I turn him down. Not because I don’t want to have sex, but the thought of missing these deadlines isn’t going to get me in the mood to give a blow job.

I call my mum this afternoon. ‘When is your doctor’s appointment again?’ she asks. ‘In two weeks,’ I reply.

The anxiety is palpable. I want to remove these lumps, but how small will my boobs look after this procedure? Will they be weirdly-shaped? Will I still enjoy sex with my husband?

I try to let go of this thought, and instead focus on the past week. I’m looking forward to a lifetime of exciting, fun and meaningful sex, no matter what my body looks like.

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