Stories

Stories >> Stories home >> No sex please, I'm phobic!

No sex please, I'm phobic!

Men get me hot under the collar, but for all the wrong reasons...


Published by: Tiffany Wright & Jean Jollands
Published on: 16th June 2011

Romantic music wafted from the speakers of my boyfriend Richard’s car. Leaning over the handbrake, our lips welded in a passionate kiss.
As his hand softly stroked my back, I felt my pulse start to race. And as he caressed my long brown hair, I felt my palms go sweaty.
But as I heard the sound of his trousers unzipping, my stomach lurched.
‘Oh Jene,’ he softly whispered in my ear.
Oh God! I felt my heart start to flutter. But I wasn’t coming over all peculiar because I was feeling frisky.
Although I fancied Richard, 19, there was one part of him I couldn’t bear, one bit of any man that I couldn’t stand – his willy! I was terrified of todgers!
‘Oh Jene,’ he groaned again, pulling me closer.
All I wanted to do, though, was wrestle free from his arms. But how could I get away without looking stupid?
‘You’re amazing,’ he muttered.
‘Um… thanks,’ I said, racking my brains for an escape route.
‘You’re so pretty and…’
‘The bins,’ I cried, hitting on an idea. ‘I’ve just remembered I forgot to put the bins out.’
Richard pulled away, surprised.
‘The bins?!’ he frowned.
‘Yeah,’ I shrugged. ‘The bin men come early, I have to drag the bins down the drive and… well, I better get back.’
‘Okay,’ he said slowly.
With that he drove me home… and I never saw him again.
That was the story of my life. Thanks to my deep fear of trouser snakes, none of my relationships had ever made it past first base.
It’s no laughing matter, though.
My fear, medically known as phallophobia, started when I was 12. Shy and geeky, I was walking back from the school tennis courts when a group of 14-year-old lads jumped out from some bushes.
‘Wooh, check this out!’ one of them giggled, jiggling his private parts at me.
Typical teenage boy! But that didn’t mean I wanted to see it.  ‘Argh,’ I’d wailed, running off to the girls’ toilets.
I’d never seen a boy’s bits before and it looked so wrinkly, so… gross!
Then later, between classes, one of the boys cornered me. ‘Tell anyone what happened and I’ll beat you up,’ he’d hissed.
Being shown someone’s pecker without warning, and the threat of violence, freaked me out. And that fear had stuck with me ever since.
After that, just the mere thought of a bloke’s meat and two veg put me off my food.
In my teens, things only got worse. Sex education was torture.
When our biology teacher put a photo of a bloke’s intimate area on the overhead projector, I had to stop myself from gagging.
It looked like an uncooked sausage, all pink and shrivelled.
By the time I reached hairdressing college, I was known as the Ice Maiden because I wasn’t willing to respond to my male classmates’ advances.
My friends didn’t think anything was wrong with me, though.
‘It’s sweet you’re saving yourself for The One,’ they’d smile.
But I couldn’t tell them the truth, they’d laugh at me. So, that’s about as far as conversations with them went.
After all, chatter down the pub inevitably always turned to trouser talk, and I couldn’t bear to be in the same room.
‘I hate to boast, but my fella’s a bit of a monster in the bedroom,’ one would giggle.
‘Tell us everything,’ my pals would smile.
‘Well…’
And that was it, I’d have to make my excuses and leave!
I tried my best to beat my phobia by dating, but after my humiliating experience with Richard, I binned blokes for four years!
Yet I’d always dreamed of getting married and having kids.
So, how was I going to get preggers if I couldn’t even think about a guy’s manhood without feeling sick?
I didn’t feel like I could confide in anyone because I was worried they’d think I was weird.
Instead, one night, I decided enough was enough, I had to do something about it.
Logging on to the internet, I talked myself into looking at some photos of naked men and their penises.
‘What’s the harm in looking at a few snaps,’ I told myself. ‘They’re not in the room with me.’
But as the image of a naked bloke downloaded on to the screen, I fled, trembling from head to toe.
I just couldn’t look at those images without the blood pounding in my ears, feeling dizzy and my heart starting to race.
Was I ever going to be able to face a willy without going wobbly?
But then I met John, 25, at a friend’s party, and my heart started to race for a different reason.
A strapping 6ft 2in, with sexy brown eyes, he was stunning. I fell for him instantly.
If I was going to face my fear with anyone, I wanted it to be him.
We started dating and, two months on, I decided if he was Mr Right, then we should perhaps move things on to a more intimate level.
‘Shall we go upstairs?’ I suggested one night.
‘I thought you’d never ask,’ John
winked, cheekily.
But, as he stripped off, I was overcome with dizziness.
‘Come over here, then,’ John purred. But before I could move, the room began to spin…
‘Jene? You okay? You fainted.’ Worried, John knelt beside me. ‘What’s wrong?’
People talked about having knockout sex – instead, I’d just keeled over at the thought of it!
This was ridiculous, I couldn’t hide my secret any more.
‘I-I’ve got something to tell you,’ I began.
‘Okay,’ he said, sitting on the carpet and crossing his legs.
‘I’m…’ I took a deep breath. ‘I’m terrified of willies.’
Suddenly, I was telling him everything I’d kept to myself for so long. When I’d finished, I waited for him to laugh. But…
‘We can get through this,’ he reassured me with a smile.
‘But how, how will we make love?’ I murmured.
‘Well, you could keep your eyes closed?’ he suggested.
‘Okay,’ I agreed.
He was ever so gentle and, eyes clamped shut, I finally lost my virginity, aged 23.
Thing was, every time we made love I always had to close my eyes, and it just didn’t feel intimate.
After a month, John couldn’t take it any more and we broke up.
I was devastated, but understood. Who wanted a girlfriend who was scared to go to bed with them?!
Now I’ve decided to avoid men for a little while and go and get some therapy in the hope that, one day, a man’s love truncheon won’t give me the screaming willies!
John Andrews, 26, Loughton, Essex, says: ‘I freaked out when Jene fainted, and wondered if her phobia was something to do with me. But she said it wasn’t. We tried to get past it, but how can you be someone’s partner when they’re scared to look or touch you down below?! Jene’s a great girl though and I hope she gets past her problem.’

Clinical hypnotherapist Phil Parker says: ‘Usually there’s some specific event, like in Jene’s case, that causes a phobia such as phallophobia. But it can be successfully dealt with using therapies, and patients are often completely cured.’
Jene Lawson, 25, Loughton, Essex