Performance anxiety is usually something attributed to men. Men are expected to get hard in an instant, hold out for an hour uninterrupted, understand the nuances of how the clitoris, labia, g-spot, and vaginal walls all work in unison, then keep them happily moving forward towards orgasm land while the patterns of arousal gradually change as their partner gets close and closer to orgasm. On top of all that we're supposed to have thick eight-inchers capable of running so deep they'll magically put our lovers straight to sleep (paraphrasing Ice Cube). A lot of men take great pleasure in bragging about their competitive capacities, either in terms of wang size or proficiency at making vaginas gush nectar. Trying to manage all of those complex operations while subconsciously wondering just how their performance ranks in terms of skill and general "good"-ness can be enough to kill a boner before it's even out of a guy's pants.
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