A friend of mine told me recently about a woman she knew who could orgasm after only a minute or two of sex play, no direct stimulation needed, and she was able to come dozens of times in a night.
I don’t know who this woman is but I hate her. 🙂
Truth is, most women take a while longer, generally require direct stimulation of some kind, and take a winding road from excitement to orgasm that has many twists, turns, and even a ditch or two now and then. However, it’s worth the trip. When we do get there, it’s like pulling our knees up through our body to our throat and back again. Every nerve is sensitive, afterwards. For me, even the tips of my fingers feel numb.
I ran across and excellent article about Female Sexual Response. it contains things every woman should know about her own body. It contains things that every man who makes love to a woman should know about her body. It’s just full of stuff that people should know. It also contains links to the other half of the coin which is equally as important – the male sexual response cycle. Go on, read it.What have you got to lose?
Oh, I do love falling in lust. You talk to him, hear his voice, imagine the things you could do to each other and everything below the waist just clenches. Fantasies are born. Your heart pounds when they’re around. Sometimes you think you could come from just a single touch, a single lick, a single word.
Oh, I do love falling in lust.
You talk to him, hear his voice, imagine the things you could do to each other and everything below the waist just clenches. Fantasies are born. Your heart pounds when they’re around. Sometimes you think you could come from just a single touch, a single lick, a single word.
The sexual tension is so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Continue reading “at first glance lust”
Desperately Trying writes: “As soon as I moved in with him, our sex life began to dwindle. First once a week, and now maybe once every four to six months. I wanted to keep open communication about it so that we wouldn’t end up where we are today, which is a very sexless relationship. It is not even about the sex, but the intimacy at this point. He is stressed out, never happy, never available for me, works seven days a week if he can, always trying to catch up, and by the time he does come home or does take a day off, he is so exhausted that he has nothing left in him except to relax. And he has gained about 35 pounds in the last three years. I’m bored. Questioning everything. Although I look at him and love him with all I’ve got, I am lost on what to do.”
Oh, honey, do I know how you feel. Don’t marry him! Don’t even think about it!
It’s a relief somewhat to know that there are other women out there who are going through what I went through. The questioning. The desperation. The wondering what the future would be like if things continued as they were.
And finally, the bitterness, the realization that both partners have to be willing to work on it. The falling out of love. The death of the future.
If there is one thing I learned in all that painful time, it was to be true to myself and my own sexuality. To work hard to feel beautiful and sexual and worthwhile. I made mistakes this girl may yet avoid – I did the marriage thing, and in the process felt like I’d sacrificed my sexuality on the altar of my marriage vows. And it was a long road back to being comfortable with my sexuality again.
DT, I hope you work it out.
I want to live long enough to be a sassy old broad with memories full of smiles.
I want to live long enough to be a sassy old broad sitting on my husband’s knee and laughing about the good old days.
Crazy as it seems, there are days when these two dreams feel mutually exclusive.
You remember the days of cartoons? On one shoulder, an angel, pious and good. Encouraging you to hold out for your dreams, be a good girl, and you’ll get everything you ever wanted. On the other shoulder, a devil, saying to hell with being good, man, let’s just live!
There are certain things that intrigue me – and yes, I’m speaking sexually – but whenever my mind drifts to those corners, the angel and the devil pop front and centre on my shoulders and have a little debate.
“You shouldn’t do that.” the little Vikki angel says. “There’s nothing wrong with enjoying sex, but that – it’s debased. It will make you a Bad Girl. Sex is for loving (or at lest affectionate) encounters between two people who respect each other as equals. If you’d just be willing to wait, you will one day have a wonderful relationship with a man who can be just as sexually adventurous as you AND give you all the love that you want.”
“Screw that.” pipes up the little Vikki devil. “You’re not getting any younger, and there are no guarantees you’ll ever find that pie-in-the-sky relationship that Cosmo is always writing about. To hell with pie-in-the-sky, what other people think, and your notions of being a Good Girl. Have some fun, dammit, while you still can! To hell with everyone else.”
As you can see, they have a great old time arguing with each other.
It begs the question: what, sexually, is going too far? Where is the line that is drawn between having fun and sliding down the slippery slope to something debased? What the hell is debased anyway? For at least one of my girlfriends, it’s looking at pornography and masturbating. Good God. Guess I’m already damned!
Here’s the other fear about constantly pursuing the devil’s suggestions and going after things that make my thighs squeeze and my heart beat faster. What if one day the gentler things aren’t enough to do it anymore? What if you spend the rest of your life pursuing a bigger and bigger high, deeper and deeper debasement, all in the name of getting off?
Not much of this makes sense, I know. At least, not out of context. Tough for me to give you context right now, but perhaps soon.
Where is your line drawn? Do you know? How far is too far? And have you ever crossed the line?
You know that BDSM is gaining mainstream acceptability when you begin to see charming bits of it crop up in your favourite TV shows.
Last week’s Buffy epsiode was a shocker for me. For those who watch the show, follow along. For those who don’t, you may be a bit confused, but try to stick with me here.
I haven’t really liked Spike. Legions of my girlfriends find him sexy and dangerous but honestly I just couldn’t see it. I missed Angel. I missed Riley. Nice guys. Not this pseudo-dangerous (but not with the chip in his head) wuss who was following Buffy around like a lovelorn puppy. Ick. Grow some balls, man!
But then it began. Their affair, relationship, whatever you call it. And while he may not be able to murder and be the badass vampire he used to be, there is one place he is inherently dangerous: the bedroom. Although they haven’t done it much in the room itself, if you get my meaning.
Turns out Spike has a little bit of the Dom in him. He and Buffy are laying there post-explosion when he suddenly reaches behind him and pulls out a pair of handcuffs. He dangles them in front of her and says, “Do you trust me?”.
I think my knees went numb at that point. It wasn’t just the cuffs. It was the smirk on his face when he said it.So sexy. They could have shown the two of them having full-out intercourse with all the trimmings and I wouldn’t have been as aroused as I was by those handcuffs, that smirk. Arousal begins in the mind, and it’s becoming clear what fires my thrusters.
Later (ohhhhh) he finds her on the deserted balcony of The Bronze (a bar, for those who don’t watch the show) and comes up behind her. He whispers words in her ear about belonging in the dark and no matter how much she may want to live in the light, she is hopelessly attracted to the dark. He pulls her skirt up and slides into her from behind while she watches her friends dance. He makes her watch them – no closing her eyes. She is helpless before him. She is helpless with pleasure.
He doesn’t tie her up, he doesn’t hit her, he doesn’t do a damn thing but control her with the power of his voice and her own arousal. But there is no doubt that he is the one in control.
I have flirted with BDSM but always felt like there was something missing. I have wanted a life mixed with vanilla, chocolate and strawberry. But there is no doubt that this love of the dark – like Buffy – is something that is hardwired into my brain, and I respond to it helplessly. I love a dangerous man (dangerous sexually, and not really dangerous – oh, you know what I mean). I love the dark. And I love the dark chuckle of a man who knows he has me under his spell, aroused, at his mercy.
Not to mention public places, the thrill of the forbidden. Being at someone’s mercy in public is ten times more arousing than in private. There is danger there, of being discovered, of the incredible arousal you’re feeling being exposed.
It would appear that Buffy and I have something in common.