a long, unfortunate silence.

It’s been a long, long time since I’ve posted, and I regret that. I lost inspiration for awhile, and motivation.. plus, with a new job I have less free time to spend fucking, fantasizing, and etc.

And so, I apologize. I’m hoping to write when I can as I’ve had some.. rather fantastic sex lately. After dumping the dehumanizing asshole I wasted a year on (and never really wrote about- for a reason), I spent a few months on casual relationships. During that time, I seriously considered (and nearly did) take up a man’s offer- money for a pleasant afternoon. Given his determination to convince me to let him go without a condom, I ended up politely declining and shortly thereafter found a far more legit job with a small local company.

During that time, I began seeing a boy my own age- very strange for me. He’s an odd duck, and I’ve grown to love him.

[When I typed that sentence initially, it read "He's an odd duck, but I've grown to love him." That makes it sound so negative. I think is peculiar way of viewing the world and responding to me is all the more reason to use that scary verb.. even if it does lead to more than the usual number of arguments over silly things.]

We are adventurous, of course. That is nothing new for me, but for him.. I think having wild sex, unashamed, started off as a novelty. The most interesting part for me has been the power exchange. I knew from the beginning that he was a switch, and while I’d always identified as a submissive exclusively, after awhile I found that I really, really enjoyed taking the lead, administering that sort of.. nurturing, guiding dominance that I sometimes display in my public life. He fucks me, and sometimes I fuck him too.

One of the most unique experiences with regards to power exchange happened recently, and became the first time I can actually remember fantasizing during sex. I was there, but I wasn’t- my mind had reversed our roles as much as he had when he straddled me while I lay prone (and oddly clothed). We didn’t say anything about it at the time, but we both knew what the other was thinking while I dug my fingertips into his thighs, grinding up into him, bucking and rolling my hips and reveling in each of his moans.

Soon I’ll buy us a present. This is still a fairly new idea for me, but I’ve found it invading my thoughts at the most appropriate and inappropriate times. I fantasize about fucking him, about urging him to suck my cock- and on the flip side, I crave his dominance.

He does it so well- just tonight he pinned me beneath him, pushing my face into the pillow, my breasts into the mattress, while his cock slid in and out of my ass. His forearm pressed over the back of my neck, he’d tell me what a good girl I’d been (even still, “good girl” is one of those phrases that makes me tingle down to my toes), or call me a fucking whore (which I am- and right now I’m his fucking whore). He likes to choke me, and I like to be choked. The panic, the momentary euphoria, and the gasping for breath all compliment the feeling of being pounded brutally by a stiff prick.

Thank god I’m going back tomorrow. We’ll have a few beers, and go a few rounds. I fully intend to take the lead at some point tomorrow. It’s been awhile.

Later (hopefully): a few recent events, in detail, though fair warning.. they may be heavy on the intimacy portion of sex. I’ve been uncharacteristically interested in intimacy lately.

slipping.

I’ve been neglecting my posting duties lately, and I feel a bit badly about that. I hate to admit it, but I’m in an uninspired slump again. I recently ended my primary relationship after a year (long, complicated story- maybe I’ll explain sometime), it’s been a few weeks since I’ve met up with William, and my sleep schedule has been too strange to play with my usual phonesex partners.

I did have one bit of excitement yesterday that’s worth noting. I was waiting in the exam room at my doctor’s office when my phone buzzed. I barely had time to flip it open and read the message before the doctor came in and I had to shove it back into my pocket again. It was a text from William, informing me that he found a pair of my black panties between his couch cushions, and that the discovery left his cock hard.

It was virtually impossible to get through the appointment perfectly composed. The moment I read that, I pressed my thighs together a bit harder and tried to fight back the flush that most certainly colored my cheeks. Memories flashed through my mind as I worked  to recall the precise situation that left my underwear buried in his couch..

Was it when we sat at opposite ends and watched intently as we each masturbated for the others viewing pleasure? He gave me a little vibrator to use, and I got to see just how he handled his swollen prick. That satisfied my exhibitionistic tendencies quite thoroughly. We didn’t get off then. It was the prelude to more teasing, then fervent pounding. But I digress- no, I don’t think it was then.

Was it the night he lit a fire in the fireplace and fucked me over the plush arm of that very familiar couch? His cock stiff and buried to the hilt in my cunt, then pulled away just enough to tease and hear me beg wordlessly before he’d shove it back in with a growl. My cunt, always dripping, always wanting, pulsing around his shaft- he got off, then he got me off, and all was right with the world for a little while.

I think it was then. I think it was when he peeled the snug little hipsters down off my ass and over my thighs, discarding them carelessly only to have them shoved between the cushions as we fucked each other oh-so-eagerly. I didn’t even notice, satisfied as I was, when the brand new pair of underwear I’d bought that day didn’t go home with me. Whatever the cause, I’ll be retrieving them soon. The retrieval could take hours, though- days, even, if I had my way.

Maybe I haven’t been so starved for inspiration after all.

Male vs. Female Fantasies, Part 3

Male Erotica (For the Women)

The male fantasy is much simpler.  While a woman’s primary motive is feeling, a man’s is simple sensory experience.  This desire makes men selfish lovers, but it’s not a conscious failure: it is particularly focused on maximizing the pleasure from the interaction of bodies.  Again, this is not a lecture as to why this is true; it is not even universally true- there are men out there that only desire to be tender lovers.  But on average, the man’s fantasy is primal, intense and raw.

The easiest way to understand this is to think of pornography.  Pictures are crude, they objectify the women and above all, they are extremely simple.  The nude female stands or sits in a provocative pose, displayed vulgarly.  Women are turned off by videos because the plots are notoriously cheesy.  They can’t buy in because their first impression ruins the entire experience.  Men never care about the plots: the interest is in the woman, it’s about the penetration scenes and money shots.  All of these are action shots.  For the woman, the key lesson is mood, mood, mood.

The Animal
A large vocabulary is a woman’s biggest enemy.  Where details are exciting for a woman, they distract a man.  His mind is singularly focused on the interaction of the experience.  In order to create the rich detail, the emphasis should not be placed on the picture but on the background.  This is a harder concept to sell because it’s a more difficult task to master.  The best way to conceptualize it is through mood: make him feel like an animal.  Instead of descriptive adjectives, sentences are short, verbs are emphasized and there is constant action: wrap your legs around his waist, claw at his back.  If you must use descriptions, focus on imagery that emphasizes his primal sense: disheveled hair, bruised thighs, pulsating cunt.  If your cunt pulsates for him, he will fuck you rotten until cum leaks down your thighs.  I promise.

The Object
If the lesson one was to make him feel like an animal, lesson two is to make yourself seem like an object for his animalistic urges.  This lesson goes hand-in-hand and in many cases, overlap.  During phone sex, mastering these two concepts is simple: either he is describing what he is doing to you or he is describing what he is doing to himself or vice versa.  It is a primarily one-sided conversation where your role is either to drive the mutual masturbation or tag along for the ride.  It is oh so easy to be the dirty, filthy slut that wants to be used every which way in an one-way conversation.  In cybering, these concepts are much harder.  There always seems to be an incessant need to keep describing; as if there are no words, you’re not doing anything.  This idea is a death sentence for the necessary mood.  The more words needed to fill a scene, the more…civilized it becomes.  The woman becomes more human.  In simpler terms, less is more.  Sometimes an “oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck” is better than anything you could ever write.  A man loves a dirty, filthy cum slut.  Become one.

The Ending
When have real sex, the post-coital encounter is the most awkward situation.  Sometimes, it’s just lying next to each other with stars in your eyes.  That’s the good kind of intimacy.  Sometimes, one or both becomes a blubbering mess because so many emotions fill the body, it’s impossible to understand them and they come out in the wrong way: the “L” word is thrown around, superlatives and compliments are handed out like candy.  It’s not that any of these things are bad and in certain cases, you are probably 100% serious in that moment.  But what about 10 minutes later?  30 minutes?  The next day?  Are those feelings the same?  In some cases they are, in some cases they’re not.  Either way, they leave the wrong impression.  That anticipation and anxiety cast a pall over the beauty of the scene.  It’s always natural to want to linger and cuddle after sex.  To promote the guy fantasy though, the fantasy needs to terminate immediately: the tiger pounces, the tiger conquers, the tiger then slinks away into the jungle.  This is easy to do one the phone or in cyber sex: thank him for making you cum and hang up.  Give him a kiss and close the IM box.  Let him know he was wonderful and walk away.  If he wants you to hang around, he’ll let you know.

Mood. Primal, ferocious, passionate, intense.  The male fantasy is all about fucking and the power exchange.  As long as you make him feel king and get out of the way, you will make him cum deeper and harder than he has ever been done before.