Fancy a Fuck?

Fucking for the moment

I adore a bloody good fuck. I don’t think, in recent years, I have shied away from this fact despite it being a fairly new phenomenon for me, despite it still being somewhat unbelievable that I can say this and actually agree with the sentiment behind the statement.

When I think of the years that I spent in isolated denial of the joys of sex, it almost sends me cowering into a foetal position in horror at the wasted years and misspent opportunities, not that there were that many.
But there is no point in dwelling on this. There is always the possibility that I enjoy sex more now because of the barrenness of decades before, and there is always the possibility that I simply wasn’t ready physically, emotionally, spiritually to truly appreciate the life giving values of a good sexual experience.

Let’s consider the now, and I return to my opening statement.
I adore a bloody good fuck. I also adore many more sexual pleasures. I have always masturbated fairly regularly. I have always found that pushing my clitoris against a large object and rubbing it until I cum is remarkably relaxing as well as intensely sensual.
I have always been blessed with a fertile imagination that has allowed me to have the sexual excitement that I never expected to experience. I still have plenty of these fantasies to live in real life but more of that later. It is the fucking that I want to concentrate on today, and fucking for the moment in particular.

When there is not an opportunity for regular sex, whatever your take on ‘regular’ may be, then one could make an assumption that you begin to crave sex in a way that one might desire food in a pang of hunger. One may also assume that once that hunger has been appeased, then the craving should dissipate, and that is certainly the case with food. I suppose that is also the case with sex, for some people, yet the reverse seems to happen with me.
If I have not had sex for some time, and yes, this could be merely a matter of days, then I definitely desire it, I devour it, I adore it and possibly appreciate it all the more for the fact that I have had to wait for it.
However, it appears that I have an insatiable appetite. Once I have had sex, and incredibly good sex at that, then I want more, not quite instantaneously but fairly soon afterwards.

In other words, for me, a good fuck seems to feed a need for another good fuck, and if I am fortunate enough to be pleasured twice, then I would still happily be fucked some more. In fact, I haven’t yet arrived at the time when I am ‘unfuckable’ because of an exhausted or raw red cunt or a decline in desire. I simply want fucking quite frequently.
Obviously, it goes without saying that my desire for sex is limited in so far that I don’t just want any old sex. I want good sex. I want to cum, to feel, to enjoy, to be taken to that special place where only certain experiences can take me. I am not so addicted to sex that I will simply open my legs for any cock, and I am not sure that I ever will.
But I do adore a good fuck.

All of this made me think today about sex and about how one prepares oneself for a time, however long, when one knows that the sort of sex that is particularly desired is not available.
It suddenly crossed my mind, as I lay in a luxurious hot and bubbly bath, with my fingers ever so gently sliding in and out of my fanny that I appear to be a complete contradiction. Here I am admitting to a strong almost insatiable appetite for sex yet knowing that I am not so addicted that I have to have ANY sex, merely for the sake of having sex.
In essence, if required, I can return to my semi-celibate days and simply wait. Obviously, during any break from penetrative sex be it a day, a month or a year (heaven forbid), then there is always the opportunity to self-pleasure, and I am looking forward to building up my skills in this area so that I can demonstrate my nimble fingers at a later date.

Now I know that this is not the way everyone would choose to cope with sex or even a lack of it, and I want to make it absolutely explicit that my way is simply that – my way. Other people may decide that they want sex as and when opportunities arise, and if that is their choice, then that is absolutely what they should do. It might even be my way one day, who knows?

All of this is somewhat interesting but not my real purpose in writing today. How one copes without sex with the person one wants to have sex with is an individual thing; not having sex or having sex, not wanking or tossing off on a twice daily basis is an individual thing.
But it is this that really struck me today.

Can you build up a mass of sex to keep you going? If you know that you are not going to see someone for a week, is it a good idea to have sex more frequently in the days before to somehow satisfy the desire that will develop as the week progresses? In essence, can you store sexual appetite like a hamster stuffs nuts in his over-burdened side pouches to keep you going, so that you can turn around by the Thursday and say, “Oh it’s ok. I can wait because I was fucked senseless three times on Sunday evening?”
Well it may work for some people but as I have explained previously, this is a slight problem for me because the more sex that I have, the more that I want.
Maybe for me, the opposite might be worth trying. Maybe I should build into a celibate week by cutting down the week before, but that doesn’t sound much fun either.

And this is why.

Really good sex, really excellent fucks, really intensive love making is not about what happened yesterday or what is going to happen in a week or a month’s time. Really good fucks happen in the now, every time, every glorious time.
Every fuck, albeit having similarities with previous fucks, is totally different. Every fuck, every session of love-making is unique for every second, minute and if you are a fortunate person like me, every hour that is spent having sensational and wickedly fun sex.

You cannot take sex and store it. Of course, you can have images and memories that either stir you into a desire for a wank or for a different type of penetrative sex, possibly with a different person, but you cannot store up sex in a way that you can pack a cupboard full of groceries to keep the appetite at bay. It just doesn’t work like that. Well not for me anyway.

Sex is the essence of the moment and this is the very reason why you cannot build it up like some sort of banking system, ready to withdraw an ounce of memory to keep you going. Obviously, you can do this. You can remember good sex to excite you, to give you excitement but it is never exactly the same and never has the precise intensity of the moment itself.

So, how do you cope with enforced separation of days or weeks or even longer? Well, it is entirely up to the individual. I have explained what I think I do, and I know that dildos and fingers get an extra bit of work, but this too is insignificant compared with the real thing.

The best thing to do is remember that sex is about the moment. Then, all you have to do is look forward to new moments, not in angst of days passing slowly, not in an eager desperation that could make the new moment fall flat in comparison with expectation, merely a simple acknowledgement that the very best fuck is about the shared moment of togetherness that is irreplaceable, unstorable, and present in the totality of that single moment.

My legs are opening by degrees in calm and thoughtful anticipation.

Panties Galore

Panties galore

I am back to one of my favourite subjects – panties, thanks to an article in the Guardian newspaper this morning.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/lifeandstyle/2009/mar/21/celebrity-pants

The thing that most interests me is the journalists opening sentence, “It’s the most embarrassing thing I have ever done”.
So what exactly is the most embarrassing thing Mr Hattenstone has ever done? It is to email, text and telephone a range of, in very inverted commas, “celebrities” to send him some of their panties through the post: all for a good cause in raising some funds for some asylum seekers and bringing attention to the fact that what these people often lack is ….….panties.

Good on him for having a noble cause. Good on him for doing something positive and raising awareness not only of the knickerless plight of these suffering people but also the fact that these people exist and that the day to day needs that we all take for granted are not available to these people. But why is it the most embarrassing thing he has ever done?

It is quite interesting to see who has responded and would be even more interesting to see who decided that they couldn’t part with their precious ones in the name of embarrassment or gross inhibitions.
Obviously, if Zenpuss was a celebrity, then she would happily part with a pair of her knickers for a good cause, and it did make me wonder which pair I would actually send. More of that later.

I am a little saddened that this exercise is seen to be embarrassing. Surely we have moved on from this. How does this man cope with walking through Marks and Sparks with all the scanty knicks in there? Does he and other people walk through such areas of shopping centres oblivious to the sexuality of these simple clothes? Am I the only person who equates a pretty pair of knickers to sexuality?
I am not suggesting that every time I go shopping for panties that sex is the first thing on my mind. There are often more practical issues like the fact that I need some new panties but I have to say that on specific occasions I have gone panty shopping with a very specific thought in mind; which panties are most likely to arouse my lover, which ones will he like to see me in, which ones will entice him into derobing me?

The point is that there should be nothing at all embarrassing about asking someone to part with their favourite panties, especially if it is for such a worthy cause.
Yet again, however, this embarrassment epitomises our societies concern about all things sexual, or is it deeper than that? Is it a concern about intimacy? Are panties just too personal to talk about? Are we, as a nation, frightened of intimacy? I think there is a very obvious answer to that one. Imagine a French journalist asking French celebrities to part with their favourite panties. I strongly suspect that even the president would be content with parting with his boxers. Or do you think Sarkozy is more of a thong man? And as for Carla, well I think Mrs S’s knicks would be extremely sexy, just like the woman herself.

Panties are intimate. They are sexy. They have to be by the very nature of the parts of the body in which they have direct contact. However, we shouldn’t shy away from this. We should embrace it. And in this particular case, the journalist should use this as a positive. He should be shouting out from the rafters that these celebrities are prepared to part with something so intimate as a pair of panties precisely because the cause is so worthwhile. By doing this, it would give the entire cause more gravitas.
Celebrate the intimacy. Do not shy away from it.

This reminds me of a story from my place of work.
Many years ago, a very famous person was visiting the place where I worked. For some inexplicable reason, one of my colleagues had forgotten to put on her panties. She was so engrossed in ensuring that she looked reasonable for this mega- person, that she simply got dressed and forgot the knickers. On arriving at her place of work, she decided to look around at the people gathered to see if she could somehow borrow a pair.
A group of people who lived within a stone’s throw from work were standing together. She decided to approach the most matronly one who she deemed would wear knickers similar to her tummy hugging ones.
She collected her nerve and asked. The matronly one was slightly taken aback but was glad to be asked and walked home to collect a pair of knickers.
She returned with the underwear wrapped in a plastic bag. My colleague then marched off to the toilet to put the knickers on.

Of course, they weren’t the figure hugging mamma knicks at all. As she withdrew the panties from the bag, she realised that the matronly one must have delved through her drawers to find the sexiest, possibly special occasion knickers. She clearly thought that my colleague wore a certain type of knickers and she clearly wanted my colleague to think that she wore a certain type of knickers.

For the rest of the day, my colleague had to walk around in some skimpy black and red laced knickers that she felt were far from practical. This, of course, was also accompanied by fits of giggles at the madness of the situation and to this day, she is concerned about what the matronly one thought of her by the very nature of returning to work with sexy ones rather than what she really wanted; big nixs!

So returning to the newspaper article, Simon Hattenstone has received a number of knickers from a variety of people. There is a whole essay in what was sent to him, and a sexual psychologist would probably have a field day analysing the knickers that were sent and more importantly the knickers that were not sent.

Did certain celebrities feel that they had to send either a sexy or unsexy pair to keep up appearances? Did some send some big knickers as tongue in cheek? Have they ever actually worn the knickers that they sent? Were there any remnants, despite a wash or two?

Katie Price was apparently so concerned that her sexy ones may be bought in auction by some sort of pervert that she has scribbled the cause on them. Katie, I have news for you. That probably won’t put anyone off buying them and using them for their own sexual gratification. Helen Mirren sent some very plain white knickers that were deeply unsexy and nothing like what I expected her to wear. Jarvis Cocker provided a grotesque pair of blue y-fronts, flying in the face of fashion. I wonder if he wears faded jeans?
Daniel Day Lewis is evidently a man who is au fait with his own sexuality, offering a cheeky delivery of cock and balls sketches on his.

As for me, as I am sure you are aware, I would be fine about sending any of my knickers but I think a certain amount of vanity might prevail in so far that I would send a lacy, sexy pair rather than any practical panties (not that I actually own that many practical panties!).
I think I would want to send a pair of knickers that truly reflected my personality, my sexuality. Knickers are very personal, and so in giving to such a cause, this should be reflected in the type of knickers that I send.

So Mr Hattenstone, here’s a tip. Congratulate yourself on an inspired way of raising funds for a decent cause but do not be embarrassed. Be very pleased that these celebrities are prepared to part with some intimate piece of clothing. Be grateful they have certainly not been inhibited by other peoples’ misconceptions and misgivings about such intimacies, and thank goodness that there are people out there who do not have hang-ups, who feel that they can share their most intimate belongings with a wider world.

A Sense of Sex

A Sense of Sex

I thought it was about time that I had an intelligent look at sex. What does this far from simple statement actually mean?

Does it mean that I should bury myself in Biology text books to overcome the ongoing embarrassment at my appalling O level grade in this subject? Or should I invest in some sort of sexual manual that will give me an intellectual insight into the workings of mine and other people’s bodies? Or perhaps I should trawl through the myriad of anthropological papers and tomes on sexual activity and discover the amalgam of reasons why people take such an interest in the subject? All sound intellectually stimulating to me.

Or perhaps I ought to consider the social and emotional effects of sex on myself and other people. Maybe I ought to think about the intense bliss that overwhelms me when my passion is at its, excuse the pun, climax. Or I could consider the effect of my sexual activity on others; how my urgent desire is understood and acknowledged, how it is reciprocated, invigorated, explored, excited, how I nurture and embrace other people’s sexuality.

Looking at sex intelligently, I could think about the transcendental effect of sex, where I am lifted to a place of totality that I’d barely dared to dream of. I could consider what exactly happens to me when I lose all sense of myself and others in the completeness of being sexually at ease, feeling that same sense of completeness in others. I could think about the physical manifestations of my sexuality and what happens to my body when I am fully or even partially aroused.

Within the next few weeks, I think I am going to write all about these different ways of intelligently looking at sex, but for now, I am going to concentrate on a sense of sex, that is, looking intellectually at sex and the five senses.

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Seeing, hearing, touching, tasting, smelling!

There are many things in life when we consider all five senses working together, intertwining and collaborating to give a complete experience.

Take food, for example. In many cases you are using all of your senses to thoroughly enjoy the experience of eating. Some of the senses are obviously more prevalent, and certainly some of them are less important. Other than the cooking of sizzling hot and spicy dinners, or the crackling spit of fried bacon spluttering away in a pan, the auditory sense isn’t as significant as the tasting senses yet it does contribute to the experience, particularly when you are eating socially, enjoying the company of others as you digest a satisfying meal.

Think of your favourite food. Think of what it does to your saliva glands when you see the food or hear it being prepared. Think of how you smell its desirable aroma, anticipating what you know from experience is going to satisfy you. Think of the touch it or the feel of it as it rests on your tongue before swallowing. Think of how all of the uses of these senses all combine to exacerbate the enjoyment of the taste of that special, desirable food.

It works beautifully doesn’t it? Merely thinking of all of these senses in relation to one another and to a particular part of life really shows how we can get the optimum experience out of vital day to day experiences.
Yet when we consider sex, there is a tendency to underplay some of the senses. There is a tendency to not use all of the senses to the best of our ability, choosing instead to concentrate on one particular sense, thus slightly lessening the potential all-round, all-encompassing experience.

Let’s return to the food analogy. If you merely tasted the food, rather than looked at it, smelled it, felt its texture as it moves towards your mouth, then quite frankly you may as well be eating cardboard or some horrid pill with all the vital ingredients to sustain life. Shoving food down your mouth to appease a grumbling stomach is ultimately not going to fulfil you unless you fully embrace the other senses.

So why would it be any different with sex? Surely, if you want to have a perfect sexual experience, you should not simply consider the physical feel of penetration but make more use of the other senses?

I am going to start with hearing. Similarly with food, it is probably less significant than some of the other senses, yet it can be so important in the stimulation of the mind that enhances and drives the sexual desire. Obviously, there are certain sounds or certain music that can arouse and excite, driving one to a sexual desire that needs to be satisfied with physical contact. Many people like to have background music whilst they are having sex, for instance. Many others like to talk and listen to one another’s voices, cajoling, encouraging, explaining as they sexual embrace one another but there are so many other auditory experiences that can stimulate one’s sexuality even further.

Words are important to me, so incredibly important. Actions are obviously significant but listening to someone telling me what a horny woman I am, or hearing about the state of my pussy as it is aroused is a complete turn on. Being told that I am cared for or adored induces a physical reaction of dynamic proportions.

Whispering “sweet nothings” into a lover’s ear is not some myth. There is a reason why such a phrase emerges as an important part of love making, and they are far from “nothings”. Every syllable of a well-constructed or even a frenetic and sexually flustered sentence can spiral your mind into a spin that manifests itself into an arousal that needs instant satisfaction. Listening to words before, during and after having sex are so incredibly important. I want to hear about the experience whilst it is happening. I want my lover to tell me how stiff he feels, even though I am fully aware of his beautifully erect and excited cock as it thrusts into my cunt. I want to hear him explain precisely what it is about my body that he desires, even though I have heard it hundreds of times before. I want to hear about the love and adoration as well as experiencing it.

The importance of the auditory sense doesn’t stop with the mere whisperings of words in a sexual experience. I am hugely turned on when I have just had an orgasm, and my lover rapidly squidges my juices around so that I can hear as well as feel the gurgling wetness of a glorious cum. I love to feel him whacking his cock on my clitoris but I also enjoy hearing him do this. Listening as he is beginning to cum himself, and listening as he can feel the spunk running through his cock, and listening to his intense moans of utter joy as he climaxes is a sensational, divine and ultimately arousing experience. I have done this to him, I have aroused him and I want to listen intently as he is overwhelmed by fulfilment.

And I haven’t even started on the simple things like listening to him peeing.

Sight is obviously important in sex. We are attracted to people in many different ways, and a stimulating intellect, a synergy of minds, a sharing of values can all contribute to that attractiveness. But it would be silly to disregard the importance of sight in that initial meeting.
There is plenty of research to say that people of similar attractiveness tend to gravitate towards one another as some form of natural selection. You rarely see a good looking bloke knocking around with a woman with pug ugly features or visa versa.
As Mrs Merton once said to Debbie McGhee, “So what did attract you to the multi-millionaire Paul Daniels?”
There is usually some other motive in play, whether it is financial, circumstantial or a great sense of humour, which attracts two people of dissimilar attraction.

“Eyes as gateways” is not a myth either. Seeing is an integral part of attraction and seeing is a vital part of sexuality. If this wasn’t the case, then how on earth would the porn world ever have been so prevalent and successful?
People like looking. People are stimulated by seeing. People like cocks and cunts and visual stimulation is clearly significant.

The mind is a wonderful toy. I don’t have to necessarily have my lover’s cock in front of me to ‘see’ him. I have photographs of his cock, his arse, his sexuality that I can look at whenever I feel a need to reinvigorate my memory of his beauty but I don’t even need these to see him.
I “see” his cock, I see his face, his smile, his sexuality in my mind.
I can see him now, holding his erect cock as it dribbles some lubricant out from his sizable helmet, waiting eagerly to slide between my open legs.

I’ve never really understood people who need to switch the lights off during sex. I want to see what I am doing to my lover. I want to see the depth of his experience in his eyes as they twinkle or glaze over, as his pupils grow. I want to see his longing, his desire, and this is before I even get to the overwhelming bliss of seeing his cock stiffen before my eyes as he anticipates getting deep inside me.
And I want him to see me too. I want him to study my fanny as it moves around with every phase of arousal. I want him to see my pink folds thrusting to and fro as he chooses how many fingers to place inside me. I want him to spread my labia so that he can get an eyeful of my movements, and I want him to watch and not just feel the sex juices as they squirt out of my over-stimulated body.

I have an ever-increasing desire to simply strip off as soon as I see him, not necessarily because of an urgent desire for sex, though that is never very far away. I just adore looking at his face as his eyes fall on my tits or my mouth that he longs to kiss. I want him to savour every plentiful inch of me with his eyes before he closes in to me and feels his way around my body. I want to pull my panties away from my pussy and just converse with him, not necessarily about sex, as he watches with anticipation as I trace my fingers around my pubic area, gently taking my index finger into the warmth of my aroused cunt.

I think people probably need to make more use of their sense of sight in sex. They need to linger a little longer on the beauty of a sexually aroused body. They need to be honest about how much they get off on seeing hard core porn.
People need to see sex. I find it difficult to believe that people cannot enjoy seeing people fuck. Personally, I am deeply turned on my seeing a stiff cock enter a pussy. I am equally turned on by seeing two women rubbing each other’s tits and playing with each other’s cunts, especially if I can have my lover with me so that I can take his hand and whip it into my juiced up pussy so that he can feel the effect of such visual stimulation.

And I haven’t even started on the utter joy of watching him masturbate.

I suppose that like sight, the sense of touch is the most prominent sense in relation to sex. It is the one that people would say was the most important. There are no words that could underplay of over emphasise the bliss of the meshing of cock and cunt together in the feel of sexual penetration. This is the ultimate joy of sex. It is the pinnacle of the experience but for me, it cannot possibly be as enjoyable if it were just for this physical sense alone.

The sense of touch is absolutely vital in good sex. I totally adore undoing my lover’s trousers and feeling down inside his knickers to an awaiting cock, ready to be stimulated by the touch of my fingers wrapping themselves around it. I love to feel this piece of sexual equipment growing and hardening as it reacts so forcefully to my touch.
Likewise, I adore feeling my reactions to his touches.

I used to be fairly ambivalent to having my tits stroked or my nipples tweaked. I would even go as far as saying that I didn’t actually enjoy it. But maybe I had had an experience that put me off. Maybe someone didn’t do it properly, and my appreciation of this particular sense of touch was diminished and dormant for so many years.
Not so now. I love to feel the wetness of my cunt draw forth more juices as two fingers stimulate my little nipples into life.

Touch is obviously not just about the stimulation of the sexual parts of the body. The touching and the feel of nakedness before, during and after sex is wonderful. Spooning together, overwhelmed by orgasms is a perfect way to feel, relive, embrace the goodness and purity of love making. Sliding my hands over his body, touching his face and feeling the warmth of a meaningful and thoroughly powerful embrace is incredibly heart warming as well as enlivening and intensifying the whole sexual ‘touch’ experience.

The intimacy of all of these touches is unbelievably life-giving and makes the feel of penetrative sex that much greater. I want to feel the wholeness of my lover’s body as he climbs on top of me. I want to feel him driving into me but I also want to feel him just lying there, with his cock resting in my cunt as we take a slight pause from energetic sex to just lie together in completeness.

How could anyone be reliant for sexual pleasure just on a quick dip? It simply doesn’t work. The sense of touch in relation to sexuality is so vital, so needed, so wanted and even thinking about it makes me want to hold someone very special very immediately!

And I haven’t even started on the stimulation of my G-Spot.

So there we have it. Three important senses being used to greatest effect in sexual activity. Three senses, working together to make a sexual experience that is enlivened, fulfilled, energised. Put all of the experiences together and you are beginning to build up a picture of some damn fine sex, and of course, I have not even started on the feelings, the emotions, the spirituality of sex. All of these things are for another time. This particular piece of writing is about the senses.

So far, we have looked at three of the senses, the three that people tend to rely on for their sexual stimulation. But there are two others. There is a sense of smell and there is the sense of taste.
Should we omit to talk about these? Are we conditioned to think that these play no real significance in our sexual lives? Are they the unsightly parts of sex that nobody really wants to acknowledge let alone talk about?
Are we making a huge mistake in under playing their significance?
My answer to that would be an overwhelming “yes”.

My taste buds are pretty weird. I am loathe to try new things. I am reluctant to embrace new tastes. I am limited in what I enjoy, yet the taste of sex is something that I hunger for.
Together with seeing and feeling my lover’s cock, I have a real hungry desire to taste it.
I love to suck his cock. I simply adore the sweet taste of the lubricant that juices out of him when he is aroused. I love to take his cock deep into my mouth, working up to a major thrust down my throat and tasting his sexiness within me. It is indescribably good to have feel that chunkiness in my mouth but it is more than that physical sense of his cock smothered in my lips and tongue and teeth. It is his unique taste that I want. He tastes really, really good and he kept telling me that I tasted really, really good too.

Intimacy involves so many aspects and surely there are very few things that are more intimate than a good dose of cunnilingus and fellatio, where the taste buds are aroused as much as the sexual organs. However, I happen to believe that sometimes a greater intimacy can occur when you are completely confident about yourself, and that includes the taste of yourself.

How do you know that your fuck juices taste good? Are you simply relying on the comments of your lover? Is he or she simply taken away by your sexuality and would want to tell you that you taste good irrespective of whether you do or don’t?
There is, of course, only one way to tell whether your fuck juices taste good and that is for you to taste them for yourself.
Admittedly, just as with attraction, each person has their own preference in taste but I would strongly advocate becoming intimate with the taste of your sexual juices because this in turn may make you feel more inclined to allow your partner to taste them more frequently.

I was unsure at first but when I saw my lover withdrawing his fingers from my cunt and directly placing them in his mouth as though they were the ultimate, lickable lollipop in the world, then I felt a need to experience what he was tasting.
I followed suit, and I was pleasantly surprised by what I tasted. My sticky, white nectar was sweet and flavoursome. I could understand why he wanted to get in there and lick away to his heart’s content. It wasn’t fishy or foul. It isn’t that way at all.
By doing this, I can understand and appreciate my own sexuality whilst simultaneously stimulating his.
When we cannot be together and we have a healthy dose of phone sex, I frequently rub myself and push my fingers into my pussy. I then take them to my lips and savour the taste of my lubricants, explaining to him what they taste like, how good they are at that particular moment and how much I know he would enjoy licking my fingers clean of sex.

When penetrative sex is inaccessible, even when we are together, I like to get into my panties and take a wad of my juices onto my hands. I like to then gently slide my fingers into his mouth so that even if he cannot get in there for himself, he can taste my sexiness at that particular moment. It reminds him, as if it is needed, how much I want him.

I even like to taste his salty spunk. I love the anaesthetic sense it brings to my mouth. I love just being able to have another part of him within me. I adore to quickly kiss his cock after he has cum so that I can get a morsel of that semen onto my lips to enjoy as I lie in a blissed out state of Satori.

You cannot undermine or exclude the taste of sex as part of the whole sexual experience. It should be embraced far more frequently than it currently is. It should be shared and valued as an integral part of foreplay and after effects.

The taste of eating off bodies is another thing. Personally, I haven’t ever done the “9 and a ½ Weeks” thing with ice-cream or chocolate or jam or yoghurt. I haven’t ever played with pieces of fruit to be retrieved from my cunt, but I wouldn’t rule it out if that is what my lover wanted, if that is something that could stimulate and excite us both.
But when you talk about taste in sex, some people think that this is the only possible stimulation. Personally, I get off far more on the natural taste of my lover than any amount of chocolate poured over his body could do, and I love chocolate!

Natural tastes are forgotten in sex, other than the sweetness of a kiss and the intertwining of tongues. Taste, in sex, can be extremely intimate, and what others may deem to be kinky, I would embrace as an integral part of my enjoyment.

And I haven’t even started on the significant differences in taste and texture of the variety of juices that I emit.

So that leaves us with smell. Is this the really unspoken part of the sexual senses?
For years of adolescence, I was led to believe that little girls are made of sugars and spice and all things nice apart from that grotesque smell of decaying fish in a sun-filled harbour. And little boys were blessed with less enticing flavours, exacerbated with the disgusting smell of mouldy cheese emitting from their cocks.
What an injustice we are serving up for our young people?
What an utterly stupid and appalling way to think about the smell of human sexuality!

Just as with taste, I have learned to enjoy the smell of my own sex. At one point, like many women, I was concerned that my sexual juices were far from sweet, that their pungent smell may be off-putting but as I continue to see what a strong inhalation of my sexuality does for my lover, I have had to reconsider this.

The other day, he was walking down the street, enjoying the crispness of the oncoming season of spring, and as he pottered along, he felt into his pockets and retrieved not one but two pairs of my panties. Each of them was riddled with my sexual juices; one full of pre-cum lubricant – the white, sticky stuff that was visually apparent on the black pair of knickers. The other pair of red thongs were soaked in my cum, hardened in the drying of the aforementioned garment, and simply full of my sexuality.

He closed his eyes instinctively to block out all other senses than the one he needed. He raised each pair of panties to his nose and inhaled deeply.
How fucking horny is that?
How enlightened! How intimate? How utterly confirming that not only does he readily embrace my smell but he actively wants it, needs to smell me whether I am with him or not.

I often give him a pair of my knickers to ‘keep him going’, to stimulate him with a part of me when I am not around. I am completely sexually excited when he tells me how he is sniffing me when I am not able to be with him. This alerts me and invigorates my sexuality, and I feel an urgent need to shove my fingers into my pussy and direct a swift manoeuvre towards my G-Spot so that I can deal with my arousal at his use of the sense of smell.

The sense of smell is a powerful reminder. Even when he had washed some of my knickers and they were robbed of my juices, they had a different smell. The smelled of him, his house as they were obviously aired to dry, and that stimulated me, to be able to sniff my own knickers not for sexual smells but just a simple smell of my lover and his abode.

But again, just as with smell, I have learned to embrace my smell.

I like to sniff my panties as I remove them to see whether they are stuffed full of sexy juices. I like to see if they are sexy enough to give to him.
I adore taking my panties off after I have been to see my lover to sniff out and remember what he has done to me. Sometimes, if I am lucky, I have managed to capture his cum as well as mine on my panties, and I adore smelling the intimacy of our day together.
And the mere sniff of such things arouses me enormously.

We really mustn’t underplay smell in sex. We should, as a society, embrace it and use it more effectively.

And I haven’t even started on the simple joy of bodily smells that are unique to one person.

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The physical ability of our senses is mind-blowing. To look out at an open field and see signs of spring thrusting to life is indeed life-giving. To listen to a special piece of music can touch your soul in a way that is impossible to intellectualise. To feel the softness of a newborn child snuggled up in swaddling is remarkable. To taste the familiar taste of your favourite food is stunning and to smell the ubiquitous smells of, say, bread cooking or coffee smouldering is enticing.

None of these senses work in isolation, and none of them work without experience, without thought, without feeling. And they don’t work independent of one another. They intertwine, the work simultaneously or chronologically, and they make these simple experiences joyous and life-affirming.

And the same can and should happen with sex. Putting all of these experiences together, using all senses simultaneously or collaboratively makes sex the peak of human experience. You can see sex and that excites. You can hear two people making love and that arouses, you can smell sex and long for more, you can taste the juices of your partner and expect the ultimate and you can feel the force of divine penetration and simply be.
But put them all together, and you are beginning to experience a sexuality that is so much more than the sum of the individual parts.

This is the thing that we should be telling young people about sex. This is the thing that we should be explaining to people whose sexual experience is limited or ineffectual.
Sex is that important and it should use every feasible sense known to man. In that way you really can be taken into another world, a state of satori and a sudden experience of ‘being there’.

And I haven’t even started to explain where our passions, our feelings, our positive emotions come into play…………