Does anyone remember the illness ME? Popular in the 1990s? The Yuppie Flu or to give it its proper title “Myalgic Encephalopathy?
Do you remember how sufferers coped with the indignity of people suggesting that it was an illness that was totally in the mind, as though the only people who could suffer from this illness were those who already suffered from hypochondria?
I had a couple of friends who had to cope with this illness for many years. One of my friends would sleep for more than eighteen hours a day. She did this for about eighteen months. Quite frankly, whatever it was, it was quite terrifying. She became a mere ghost of the person that she was. She lost confidence, her job, her belief in herself and her dignity.
Another friend had a similar story. She seemed to suffer from the most oppressive inertia. Even when she did manage to come out, she would fall asleep within hours. She couldn’t drink. She could hardly converse and she had nothing to contribute to the conversation because she didn’t actually do anything all day. She couldn’t even comment on the mass of television programmes that she watched because she couldn’t remember watching them.
Thankfully, both friends survived and rarely have to cope with this chronic fatigue any longer.
Yesterday, there was an article in the newspaper about Female Sexual Dysfunction (FSD). This is a serious and very real problem for some women. It is something that they have to contend with on a daily basis. It is dismissed by many and, according to the newspaper, it has taken until the year 2010 to have a medical conference about the problem in this country.
I clearly mention ME in conjunction with FSD because it appears that both illnesses are discredited and there are certain people who think that they are both a figment of the sufferer’s imagination.
If you want to read the article in full, here is the link.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/society/2010/apr/25/women-viagra-polly-vernon
My next blog will include a greater commentary on the article itself but I want to look at the whole notion of FSD for now.
According to the article, there are 43% of women who suffer from FSD.
There are three main areas of FSD.
1. Lack of sexual desire
2. Lack of orgasms
3. Pain during intercourse
Within these three areas, there are a range of problems and there are a range of issues as yet seemingly ignored. For example, does a woman within this 43% suffer from a genuine lack of libido or is her lack of sexual desire accountable to the fact that she is no longer attracted to her partner? If some of these women were a little more honest, do they feel a little gorgeous sensation when they fantasise about someone else, for instance?
Of these 43% of women, are they totally incapable of reaching an orgasm or is it just that they cannot achieve a climax with their partner? Or is it that they cannot orgasm during penetrative sex yet are perfectly capable of climaxing when they are masturbating.
Of those 43% of women, how many have pain because they do not really understand their bodies and do not use their mind to add additional moisture to their pussies as they await penetration.
(Please note, I am not belittling this problem at all. I am sure that it is very real for some people and having painful sex is utterly vile. I know. I’ve been there.)
The problem, it seems with FSD, is that it is not very clear what the cause, the symptoms and therefore the treatment could be. It covers a wide range of issues in comparison with the male counterpart that seems to be wholly focussed on erectile dysfunction. This in itself is interesting because there is an assumption that ALL men want sex. It’s just that sometimes their dicks don’t do what their brains and their hearts desire. To suggest that women’s sexual dysfunction is more complicated implies, by default, that they may not actually want sex. Why is this never a consideration the other way around? Why do people assume that it is acceptable for women to not want sex, as though this is the norm?
For those of us who want sex far more frequently than we can get it, this sort of assumption makes us feel abnormal when in actual fact we are probably far sexually healthy than most.
Again, in the article, there is a suggestion that because the female anatomy is more complicated and intrinsic, then there is a possibility that this is also making the FSD more difficult to treat. With a man, you either get an erection or not. With a woman, there’s the clitoris and the G-Spot (and there is still debate as to whether this exists). There’s the inner and outer labia. There’s all kinds of folds and burrows inside a pussy that have yet to be properly analysed as to their function.
There is a clitoral orgasm and there is a vaginal orgasm. There is a dreamy cum that tingles all over, and there is female ejaculation (and there is still debate as to whether this exists). There are all sorts of orifices as yet undiscovered. There are those who think it is perfectly normal for a woman to have erect organs on penetration or anticipation of it and those who don’t have erections (and there is still debate as to whether this exists).
On writing this and looking more intensely and biologically at the female organs, I am quite humbled by the brilliance of our creation. What a pity people see it is a problem rather than the exquisite execution of evolvement that it is.
Clearly, the medics cannot treat the problem if they cannot ascertain what the problem is, especially if there is an amalgamation of loss of sexual appetite, lack of orgasm and pain on penetration. Which does come first: the chicken or the egg? Is it about physicality or is there a mass of work required on getting women to think more sexually? Is it about understanding the body or is it about understanding the soul? Should sexuality be about the orgasm or the means to its feasibility?
Later in the article, there are a few comments suggesting that the actual number of genuine sufferers is far less than the 43% stated.
Two points about this. Firstly, there is a possibility that those who are clinically treatable either by medicine or by counselling is smaller but that still accounts for a large number of women across the nation that are not experiencing the type of sex that should be an entitlement.
Secondly, if there are 43% of women out there who even tick one of those three boxes in a small way, then that is a problem for them that should not be ignored. The level of FSD is immaterial if you are suffering from it. If a woman feels that they have FSD because they cannot get an orgasm with their partner, then this needs to be looked at. I truly hate the idea of women not being able to orgasm. I’m not sure that I could cope with life without orgasms now. I’m not sure I do cope with life when I don’t orgasm!
Confession time. I suffered from FSD for years without even realising it. If someone had come up to me in the street and asked me if I suffered from FSD, I would probably have denied it. Who wants to admit that they are not feeling particularly sexual? In saying that, there is a possibility that the figure of 43% could actually be smaller than reality therefore.
Lack of sexual desire: Yes, I ticked that box. I was totally disinterested in sex. I would happily have continued throughout my life without another fuck. I was content but didn’t need or desire sex but I didn’t really think this was a problem.
Lack of orgasm: I’d had so few orgasms in my life through penetrative sex that I genuinely believed there was a possibility that it was a figment of someone’s imagination. I knew that there was a clitoral orgasm because I could get that through masturbation but as far as having an orgasm through penetrative sex, it was simply unachievable. I couldn’t even get an orgasm from being given a finger fuck. Again, it wasn’t really a problem. As long as my partner was getting some enjoyment out of jigging his finger in and out of my cunt, and as long as I could pretend this was enjoyable, then all was well with the world.
Pain during sex: Well, I don’t think I have suffered too often with this but there have certainly been times when I have been way to dry for penetrative sex, probably because of the lack of desire. That can be rather painful. I’ve also had pain on occasions when I have been fucking for ages in a time when I have been barren for months. Come to think of it, I think I probably had my hymen rebroken for my fortieth birthday!
I suffered from FSD and I didn’t even know. I lost over a decade of what should have been a time of sexual stimulation and excitement. No wonder I devour cock when I get the opportunity now. NO wonder I want to stick it in my fanny at every opportunity. No wonder I want to grasp it in my hand and feel its glorious hardness as I direct it to my mouth. I am so bloody fortunate that I discovered my sexuality before it was lost forever.
I was lucky. I found someone who realised my sexuality before I did. I had the dormancy removed but others are not so fortunate and this is something that people should not have to suffer silently.
Ideally, this is something that women should aim to remove for themselves without reliance on drugs or even other people.
The point is that if women are not honest and open about either their function or dysfunction sexually, then there will be a perpetuation of myths and incorrect advice and guidance given to women.
In the recent past, I have been cautious about speaking about my sexuality (apart from here) because I didn’t really want women who had never had gushing orgasms to feel inadequate. I didn’t want to reiterate their problems but the simple fact is that it is up to people like me to tell the women out there that they can have mind-blowing sex even if they, like I did, feel that sex is way down on the list of priorities.
Here’s my truth.
Sex is right up there as one of my biggest priorities in life. I admit I am fortunate that I have a sexual partner who I am extremely turned on by. Not everyone is. Without being flippant, I would seriously suggest that if you are not turned on by your partner, do something about it, rethink or alternatively, don’t close your eyes to the possibility of another partner.
Sex is enjoyable. To say that sex is enjoyable is a complete and utter understatement. It blows me to smithereens. It consumes me. It encapsulates my body, my brain, my spirit, my soul. When it is good it is the most incredible thing known to woman. Believe me please. I am a convert. I need sex. I think about it frequently; not too frequently but as much as any man I know.
Female orgasms exist. Every woman should orgasm regularly. Every woman should know their bodies and understand how to get an orgasm. Every woman should be able to get an orgasm on their own. In understanding what their bodies are capable of they should expect a similar orgasm to be achieved by their partner. If you can get an orgasm through masturbation, you should be able to have the same orgasm by your partner. If you cannot get it through him or her finger fucking you, then get the toys out that you use to wank and let your partner play with your fanny.
Not only do female orgasms exist but the G-Spot is real. FACT! If it is not fact then what the hell is it inside me that erupts when stimulated? Please believe me, the G-Spot is there and it can be stimulated by cock or finger, and when it is fucked, it creates the most brilliant and pleasurable feeling that is definitely an orgasm. It’s not the same as a clitoral orgasm but it is equally wonderful.
Female ejaculations happen. This is not a figment of someone’s vibrant imagination. It happens. It is not a camera trick of hard pornography. It is real. Only a few hours ago, I was poking around with three or four fingers inside me as my lover rubbed his cock in front of me. Reaching into my cunt, I could feel the squirt coming. It did.
Immediately afterwards, he reached inside me as his fingers are longer than mine. I splattered my juices over his inserted hand too.
If someone who suffered from FSD for what seemed like an eternity can gush like this, then so can others.
Wanting sex is not the domain of men. It is not abnormal for women to think about sex more that once every half hour. It is not unusual for a woman to get all hard down below at the thought of sex. This is real too. I am not abnormal for thinking about sex. I am not abnormal for wanting sex. I am not abnormal for asking for sex. Some would even probably like me to demand more sex, within reason. I have a high libido, not an abnormal one. I like fucking. I like fucking alot. I like making love even more.
I could go on but I need to keep this succinct because this is so intensely important.
If you are reading this and you have not experienced all of the above but have experienced some, it does not mean that you suffer from FSD but it does mean that you might have some element of your sex life that could do with a little additional spice (if you want).
If you are reading this and have never experienced any of the above, it does not mean that you suffer from FSD but you may want to consider what sex could be like.
If you are reading this and have never experienced any of the above, it could be that despite the warning on this blog, you are under age and want to know something about sex. If you are one of these people, then do not settle for anything but the best. I want you to have the sort of sex that I didn’t know existed but I want you to have it when your mind and maturity can play an integral part in the enjoyment of sex.
If you are reading this and have experienced all or most of the above then do something about it. Tell your friends. Rejoice in your sexuality. Rescue your sexuality from the societal claim that intense sexuality belongs to men. Let women who are potential, partial or actual sufferers of FSD know that there is an alternative to boring, meaningless sex.
Men who are reading this too. You have an important role to play. If your partner is not achieving these things then do something about it. Don’t cum in seconds flat. Think about her needs too. Consider why she may have a lack of sexual desire and work on it, together.
We have to start being honest about the reality of sex for women and the fact that it can be brilliant.
The medical profession has got to get real about this being a real problem. It’s strange to think that Victorian women had shock treatment to stimulate their libido and I am not sure we have advanced much further since then in dealing with FSD.
FSD is a silent problem and will remain so if people are not honest about their sexuality.
Let’s do it now.
And finally, and this is a genuine offer. If anyone wants to talk about this further, then Zenpuss is happy to oblige via email.
Monday 26 April 2010
Saturday 24 April 2010
The Lather of Sexuality
In this week’s episode of “Soap!” Jack is going out with Amanda. They’re off to see the new raunchy show in town where there is much nudity and serious amounts of erotica. Amanda is rather looking forward to a bit of full frontal. Apparently the lead actor has a rather deliciously large cock. Jack, of course, is looking forward to a bit of fanny. He’s read the reviews and if you sit close enough to the stage, you apparently see the depths of her inner labia as the actress spreads her legs.
Jack is going out with Amanda tonight but he’s not fucking her. He’s not going to fuck her tonight He hasn’t ever fucked her. Nor does he have a particular desire to fuck her though he might fuck her in the future.
Jack is fucking Annie.
Annie, dear Annie, who happily swallowed his cock earlier in the day as though she hadn’t eaten for days; Annie who thinks that if she could get that in her mouth thrice daily she would easily lose the stone or two that she wants to shed. Okay, perhaps thrice daily is a little on the conservative side. Perhaps breakfast, lunch, dinner and the snacks in between. Yum yum!
Before going out with Amanda this evening Jack fucked Annie rather nicely. She was lying on his bed, suggesting clothes that he could wear for the theatre tonight. She liked doing that. She liked the fact that he trusted her judgment, sometimes against his own ideas of how and what to wear. She liked him dressing up for other women. She liked to support him to look as good as he could. She wanted other women to want him; to look at him and imagine what it would be like to be blessed with his large cock in their pussies. She wanted him to feel good and confident, and in reiterating that he was looking rather gorgeous she hoped he was further excited by the potential of the evening ahead.
So she lay on the bed, not expecting a seeing to but as he joined her and revealed his hard on, she couldn’t stop herself instantly sliding down the bed and opening her mouth to devour his erection.
She consumed it with a great deal of relish, opening her throat to make room for him, gobbling further and further down until her nose was deeply imbedded in his balls. Up and down she travelled, sometimes gagging on the extent of what was in her mouth, sometimes managing to refrain from this reflex.
Gagging once more, she could feel the ejaculation desperately trying to escape from her cunt, and without even feeling her wetness, Jack knew she was ready for a gush too.
So they fucked hard and watched each other wank before cumming together in a rush of eager exhilaration.
Jack is fucking Annie and Amanda is fucking Jack’s best mate, Richard.
Amanda loves to fuck Richard. She loves the games that they play. She likes to dress up in her very best kinky gear, not too kinky, just a basque with a quick emergency opening and a laced front that he can undo. Amanda likes her toys too. She likes to get Richard to insert a dildo, rubbing her up until she cums. Once she has had her first regular squirt, he whips the vibrator out and stuffs her full with his cock.
Amanda has a desire. She wants to watch Richard fucking another woman. She’s not sure why she wants to do this but she has a wish to be a voyeur. Porn is great and she and Richard enjoy watching some hard core stuff that he researches eagerly in anticipation for sharing with her. Richard is happy to go along with this fantasy, if only they could find someone to play their game.
Annie has a desire too. She wants someone to watch her being fucked. She actually wants someone to watch her and Jack having an extremely energised and horny sex session. She wants whoever is watching to be hugely turned on to the extent that they need to masturbate whilst Jack and her are warming each other up to climax.
Jack mentioned Annie’s desire to Richard as he was explaining to his friend how Amanda wanted to be a voyeur. Perhaps Annie would like to be fucked by me, suggested Richard. Perhaps she would consider being fucked by Richard so that Amanda could fulfil her fantasy of being a secret voyeur.
Jack told Richard that he would put this suggestion to Annie.
Annie agreed, with some stipulations. Annie would do this as long as Jack was present, as long as Jack was content to see his lover being fucked by his best friend. Annie was and is happy to oblige if it means that Amanda can fulfil her fantasy. She thinks it is extremely important for sexual women to be able to express themselves sexually in whatever way they choose. Annie thinks that sexual women are pretty exciting beings.
Richard is happy with this arrangement too. He’s heard from Jack how spunky Annie is and he wonders if she will be as juicy for him. Amanda is also delighted at the prospect of fulfilling this dream. She is going to hide somewhere so that she can view this spectacle, taking a toy or two with her so that she can slide them into her pussy as she wanks off at her lover fucking another woman.
Jack needs to be involved too. That is Annie’s absolute condition in playing this game but Amanda wants to be hidden. Jack would really like to see Amanda wanking as she watches Richard and Annie getting it on. Perhaps Jack could hide behind a screen so that Annie could see him but Amanda couldn’t. Amanda would know that Jack was there and would know that he was watching her wank but she would remain unseen to Richard and Annie, thus still pretending that she was the single voyeur.
Jack and Annie and Richard and Amanda need to meet up and have a discussion about this; not too much planning but just to ensure that they are all comfortable with one another and everyone knows that they have an opportunity at any time to change their mind.
Annie thinks that this could be fun as long as everyone can get an equal amount of enjoyment and sexual stimulation out of it. Her ideal would be if she could fuck Jack immediately after fucking Richard and that Amanda and Richard would be prepared to watch, and Jack would be prepared to be watched for that matter. Then she would like to watch Amanda and Richard fucking.
And who knows what else might emerge? Maybe Jack would like to fuck Amanda with Richard and Annie watching. Maybe this could have some longevity, this little arrangement between four consenting adults who are all expressively sexual and comfortable with one another.
In this week’s episode of “Soap!”, Jack and Amanda are at the theatre. Jack is more turned on than he expected. The actress is rather tasty and he is desperate to see her pussy. Amanda is also very turned on. She is estimating the size of the actor’s cock.
Meanwhile, Annie is home alone. She is amusing herself by working her way through squirters on YouPorn. Richard is working and he is wondering how Jack and Annie are getting on.
As the actor undresses, Amanda can feel the tension of suppressed sexual expression rising. He’s standing on the stage in a pair of boxers and the actress is sitting behind him ready to drag his pants down to reveal his dick. Amanda places her hand in her groin and pushes hard on her clitoris.
Jack is concentrating on the actress. She has already removed her bra to reveal a fabulous pair of tits. His erection clambered quickly into life as the actress took her breasts in her hand and tried to kiss her own nipples.
Amanda waits and is not disappointed in what she sees. His cock is fucking enormous and despite himself, the actor is clearly turned on. He’s got a fucking stiffy.
She doesn’t want to fuck Jack right now but she’d desperate to feel a cock, pretending that she is reaching out to the stage. She places her other hand on Jack’s thigh.
Jack already has his hand covering his dick, not out of protection but out of necessity to feel his sexuality as he responds to this goddess on the stage.
He accepts Amanda’s hand on his thigh but doesn’t want it to go further. He just places his hand over hers as she squeezes his thigh at the moment that the actor and actress simulate sex.
Jack won’t fuck Amanda now despite a need to do something with his erection. It’s not Annie that he is worried about. It’s Richard. Annie knows that it is a possibility that he will fuck Amanda. She may need it. He may too. Jack won’t stop himself from fucking Amanda because of Annie. He doesn’t need to. It’s Richard that he doesn’t want to upset.
Should that be a concern to Annie, that Jack is more worried about upsetting his best friend than his lover? Not at all. Annie and Jack have already discussed this. As far as she is concerned, this demonstrates a distinct trust and honesty between them. They have considered this and Annie, for all her potential envy, recognises that Jack is a sexual person who needs to express his sexuality without fear of ridiculous repercussions from her.
Jack hasn’t had that discussion with Richard. He doesn’t know how Richard might feel if he fucked Amanda. Until that has been decided, as far as he is concerned, Amanda is not for fucking.
Annie wants to hear all about it though, if Jack fucks Amanda, if Jack fucks anyone. She really does want him to fuck someone. Ideally she wants to see him fuck someone with her present. Ideally some more, she wants to see him fuck someone and then she can join in so that she can fuck the woman too. Annie loves to hear about Jack’s fantasies and about his previous sexual relationships and encounters. She adores his sexuality. Why on earth should she deny it? Why do people deny their partners’ previous life or current life as a sexual being.
In this week’s episode of “Soap!” the play is over but the other play, the real play is only just beginning.
..........................................................................................................
It’s not “Soap!”. It’s not fiction. This is potentially real life.
This is the possibility for four sexual people who are sensible and honest enough to accept and do something about their sexuality. This is the real life of people who can distinguish between a fuck and making love, knowing that you can have wonderful love making on one day and horny recreational sex with others the next.
There is no reason on earth why the two cannot work simultaneously. There is no reason why one lover cannot tell their lover about other sexual thoughts and encounters they have had.
There is every reason why two people can have an absolute and intimate relationship without the need for ownership or exclusivity. There is every reason why four people can have a bloody good time exploring their sexual boundaries and the sexuality of others.
Wouldn’t life be less complicated rather than more so with this sort of honesty between consenting adults?
The “soap” continues..... or does it?
Jack is going out with Amanda tonight but he’s not fucking her. He’s not going to fuck her tonight He hasn’t ever fucked her. Nor does he have a particular desire to fuck her though he might fuck her in the future.
Jack is fucking Annie.
Annie, dear Annie, who happily swallowed his cock earlier in the day as though she hadn’t eaten for days; Annie who thinks that if she could get that in her mouth thrice daily she would easily lose the stone or two that she wants to shed. Okay, perhaps thrice daily is a little on the conservative side. Perhaps breakfast, lunch, dinner and the snacks in between. Yum yum!
Before going out with Amanda this evening Jack fucked Annie rather nicely. She was lying on his bed, suggesting clothes that he could wear for the theatre tonight. She liked doing that. She liked the fact that he trusted her judgment, sometimes against his own ideas of how and what to wear. She liked him dressing up for other women. She liked to support him to look as good as he could. She wanted other women to want him; to look at him and imagine what it would be like to be blessed with his large cock in their pussies. She wanted him to feel good and confident, and in reiterating that he was looking rather gorgeous she hoped he was further excited by the potential of the evening ahead.
So she lay on the bed, not expecting a seeing to but as he joined her and revealed his hard on, she couldn’t stop herself instantly sliding down the bed and opening her mouth to devour his erection.
She consumed it with a great deal of relish, opening her throat to make room for him, gobbling further and further down until her nose was deeply imbedded in his balls. Up and down she travelled, sometimes gagging on the extent of what was in her mouth, sometimes managing to refrain from this reflex.
Gagging once more, she could feel the ejaculation desperately trying to escape from her cunt, and without even feeling her wetness, Jack knew she was ready for a gush too.
So they fucked hard and watched each other wank before cumming together in a rush of eager exhilaration.
Jack is fucking Annie and Amanda is fucking Jack’s best mate, Richard.
Amanda loves to fuck Richard. She loves the games that they play. She likes to dress up in her very best kinky gear, not too kinky, just a basque with a quick emergency opening and a laced front that he can undo. Amanda likes her toys too. She likes to get Richard to insert a dildo, rubbing her up until she cums. Once she has had her first regular squirt, he whips the vibrator out and stuffs her full with his cock.
Amanda has a desire. She wants to watch Richard fucking another woman. She’s not sure why she wants to do this but she has a wish to be a voyeur. Porn is great and she and Richard enjoy watching some hard core stuff that he researches eagerly in anticipation for sharing with her. Richard is happy to go along with this fantasy, if only they could find someone to play their game.
Annie has a desire too. She wants someone to watch her being fucked. She actually wants someone to watch her and Jack having an extremely energised and horny sex session. She wants whoever is watching to be hugely turned on to the extent that they need to masturbate whilst Jack and her are warming each other up to climax.
Jack mentioned Annie’s desire to Richard as he was explaining to his friend how Amanda wanted to be a voyeur. Perhaps Annie would like to be fucked by me, suggested Richard. Perhaps she would consider being fucked by Richard so that Amanda could fulfil her fantasy of being a secret voyeur.
Jack told Richard that he would put this suggestion to Annie.
Annie agreed, with some stipulations. Annie would do this as long as Jack was present, as long as Jack was content to see his lover being fucked by his best friend. Annie was and is happy to oblige if it means that Amanda can fulfil her fantasy. She thinks it is extremely important for sexual women to be able to express themselves sexually in whatever way they choose. Annie thinks that sexual women are pretty exciting beings.
Richard is happy with this arrangement too. He’s heard from Jack how spunky Annie is and he wonders if she will be as juicy for him. Amanda is also delighted at the prospect of fulfilling this dream. She is going to hide somewhere so that she can view this spectacle, taking a toy or two with her so that she can slide them into her pussy as she wanks off at her lover fucking another woman.
Jack needs to be involved too. That is Annie’s absolute condition in playing this game but Amanda wants to be hidden. Jack would really like to see Amanda wanking as she watches Richard and Annie getting it on. Perhaps Jack could hide behind a screen so that Annie could see him but Amanda couldn’t. Amanda would know that Jack was there and would know that he was watching her wank but she would remain unseen to Richard and Annie, thus still pretending that she was the single voyeur.
Jack and Annie and Richard and Amanda need to meet up and have a discussion about this; not too much planning but just to ensure that they are all comfortable with one another and everyone knows that they have an opportunity at any time to change their mind.
Annie thinks that this could be fun as long as everyone can get an equal amount of enjoyment and sexual stimulation out of it. Her ideal would be if she could fuck Jack immediately after fucking Richard and that Amanda and Richard would be prepared to watch, and Jack would be prepared to be watched for that matter. Then she would like to watch Amanda and Richard fucking.
And who knows what else might emerge? Maybe Jack would like to fuck Amanda with Richard and Annie watching. Maybe this could have some longevity, this little arrangement between four consenting adults who are all expressively sexual and comfortable with one another.
In this week’s episode of “Soap!”, Jack and Amanda are at the theatre. Jack is more turned on than he expected. The actress is rather tasty and he is desperate to see her pussy. Amanda is also very turned on. She is estimating the size of the actor’s cock.
Meanwhile, Annie is home alone. She is amusing herself by working her way through squirters on YouPorn. Richard is working and he is wondering how Jack and Annie are getting on.
As the actor undresses, Amanda can feel the tension of suppressed sexual expression rising. He’s standing on the stage in a pair of boxers and the actress is sitting behind him ready to drag his pants down to reveal his dick. Amanda places her hand in her groin and pushes hard on her clitoris.
Jack is concentrating on the actress. She has already removed her bra to reveal a fabulous pair of tits. His erection clambered quickly into life as the actress took her breasts in her hand and tried to kiss her own nipples.
Amanda waits and is not disappointed in what she sees. His cock is fucking enormous and despite himself, the actor is clearly turned on. He’s got a fucking stiffy.
She doesn’t want to fuck Jack right now but she’d desperate to feel a cock, pretending that she is reaching out to the stage. She places her other hand on Jack’s thigh.
Jack already has his hand covering his dick, not out of protection but out of necessity to feel his sexuality as he responds to this goddess on the stage.
He accepts Amanda’s hand on his thigh but doesn’t want it to go further. He just places his hand over hers as she squeezes his thigh at the moment that the actor and actress simulate sex.
Jack won’t fuck Amanda now despite a need to do something with his erection. It’s not Annie that he is worried about. It’s Richard. Annie knows that it is a possibility that he will fuck Amanda. She may need it. He may too. Jack won’t stop himself from fucking Amanda because of Annie. He doesn’t need to. It’s Richard that he doesn’t want to upset.
Should that be a concern to Annie, that Jack is more worried about upsetting his best friend than his lover? Not at all. Annie and Jack have already discussed this. As far as she is concerned, this demonstrates a distinct trust and honesty between them. They have considered this and Annie, for all her potential envy, recognises that Jack is a sexual person who needs to express his sexuality without fear of ridiculous repercussions from her.
Jack hasn’t had that discussion with Richard. He doesn’t know how Richard might feel if he fucked Amanda. Until that has been decided, as far as he is concerned, Amanda is not for fucking.
Annie wants to hear all about it though, if Jack fucks Amanda, if Jack fucks anyone. She really does want him to fuck someone. Ideally she wants to see him fuck someone with her present. Ideally some more, she wants to see him fuck someone and then she can join in so that she can fuck the woman too. Annie loves to hear about Jack’s fantasies and about his previous sexual relationships and encounters. She adores his sexuality. Why on earth should she deny it? Why do people deny their partners’ previous life or current life as a sexual being.
In this week’s episode of “Soap!” the play is over but the other play, the real play is only just beginning.
..........................................................................................................
It’s not “Soap!”. It’s not fiction. This is potentially real life.
This is the possibility for four sexual people who are sensible and honest enough to accept and do something about their sexuality. This is the real life of people who can distinguish between a fuck and making love, knowing that you can have wonderful love making on one day and horny recreational sex with others the next.
There is no reason on earth why the two cannot work simultaneously. There is no reason why one lover cannot tell their lover about other sexual thoughts and encounters they have had.
There is every reason why two people can have an absolute and intimate relationship without the need for ownership or exclusivity. There is every reason why four people can have a bloody good time exploring their sexual boundaries and the sexuality of others.
Wouldn’t life be less complicated rather than more so with this sort of honesty between consenting adults?
The “soap” continues..... or does it?
Sunday 18 April 2010
Sexual Snippets: Goers, The Big Debate, Primark and Needy Pussies
Sexual Snippets
Goers
No sooner had Zenpuss written about “Goers” and the “Goerometer” that there was an article on Radio Four’s Woman’s Hour about a very similar subject. Admittedly, they didn’t put it in quite the same terms that I had but they were mentioning the fact that some people “had it” and that this could be successful in terms of career development.
By default, it seems that my theory may be bordering on the correct, i.e. that those who are sexually fulfilled may even show it when they are being interviewed for a job, and if the interviewers are looking out for something different, it might be the sexually fulfilled who get the job due to their confident air and subliminal show of eroticism.
That statement seems like a regression. I would hate to think that I had got any job that I went for because of my looks or the way I subconsciously oozed out a little of my sexuality but there has to be something in the fact that one sexual person might recognise the sexuality of another. In the mating game, I am sure this is the case.
Anyway, the article on Woman’s Hour was about a study from the London School of Economics.
The piece was titled, “Your Erotic Power can be just as useful as your qualifications finds study”.
Here is an extract from the LSE website.
http://www2.lse.ac.uk/newsAndMedia/news/archives/2010/03/erotic.aspx
Michelle and Barack Obama have it. Carla Bruni and David Beckham have it. Jordan and Paris Hilton made a career from it. Erotic capital is the implicit but powerful commodity that can count just as much as educational qualifications in the labour market, politics, media or the arts, finds a new report published today by a sociologist at the London School of Economics and Political Science.
'Beauty and sex appeal have become more important personal assets in the sexualised cultures of our liberal, modern societies, often just as important as educational qualifications' says Dr Catherine Hakim in the study.
She coins the term 'erotic capital' to refer to this difficult-to-define but crucial combination of physical and social attractiveness which makes some men and women agreeable company and colleagues, attractive to all members of their society and especially to the opposite sex.
She says: 'People who possess an above-average amount of erotic capital are more persuasive, are more often perceived as honest and competent. They find it easier to make friends, get jobs, get married, and tend to earn 15 per cent more on average as well'.
Erotic capital should be recognised as a new fourth category of personal asset which each of us possess to some degree (along with economic, cultural and social capital), argues her paper published in the European Sociological Review.
Dr. Hakim identifies six elements of erotic capital – or seven for women in countries where fertility is valued. The other six are: beauty, sexual attractiveness, social graces, liveliness, social presentation and sexuality performance.
She finds that women have the edge over men in these areas, partly because women work harder at being physically and socially attractive, and at dressing well. However, another reason is the large sex deficit that affects more men than women, universally. Recent national sex surveys show that, around the world, men's sexual interest greatly exceeds women's sexual interest and activity, especially among people aged 35 and over. So women are in greater demand as sexual partners, a dramatic reversal of men's advantage in courtship and marriage markets.
Dr Hakim said: 'Of course it has long been known that beautiful women could use that advantage to get on in life. But it has been assumed that was a tactic to make up for their lack of economic or social power, which would become irrelevant when men and women became more equal. Instead, I argue, erotic capital is something all of us trade on and we should see it as a major constituent of our social lives. It has growing importance in the workforce.'
Catherine Hakim's report, 'Erotic Capital' appears in the European Sociological Review, published by Oxford University Press, and will appear online at http://esr.oxfordjournals.org/papbyrecent.dtl
If you follow the link, you can see the paper in full.
http://esr.oxfordjournals.org/cgi/content/full/jcq014
The substance in this is quite interesting so I will do a more detailed blog later. However, it does make you think and it is quite good to see this “erotic capital” acknowledged, not necessarily as a means to furthering yourself in your career but because once more, it recognises the importance of sexuality in our lives when that significance has so frequently been pushed to one side.
More of this later.......
...........................................................................................................................
Back to Boobs
It struck me after writing about Rigby and Peller yesterday how infrequently women touch their boobs. I have written about this before and the importance of exploring your own body. Health wise, it is vital that a woman gets to know her boobs intimately. Small changes in size, veins and the appearance of the nipple could (and I say could with as much caution as possible) be an indicator that not all is right. Sometimes, the changes are linked to normal hormonal patterns of the monthly cycle. I know that when I am about to menstruate my boobs are heavier and ridiculously sensitive.
However, there are other reasons for a woman to get to know their tits as well.
I want to have some knowledge of what it is about me that my sexual partner desires or likes. My lover enjoys just occasionally, more than occasionally thankfully, taking my boobs in his hand almost as though he is verifying that they are still weighty and enjoyable to touch. I rather like the fact that there are times when he just feels an instinctive need to touch them.
In order to appreciate why he does this, I too feel my boobs to experience what he is wanting and as a reminder for when he is not here to do it.
And though I say it myself, they feel quite good and they are a little reminder of the sexual person that I am.
At the moment, for some reason that is not linked to my menstrual cycle, my boobs are very sensitive which is both positive and negative. Some may find this difficult to believe and others will have experienced this but last week, I had a gushing orgasm simply by having my nipples tweaked and my boobs handled. The mind has to work in conjunction with touch to enable this but it certainly happened and it felt really wonderful.
Often, when I am in the middle of penetrative sex, I grab my boobs to heighten the experience as a whole. Fondling your own tits whilst you are being gloriously fucked makes a difference, believe me. Not only does it give your lover an additional arousal at you touching yourself, it also, as I said, sensitises the whole sexual experience for yourself. If he is too busy down below to touch your boobs, then DIY!
As for the negative, well, let’s just say, that accidental or unwanted touches can be a little painful when the boobs are this sensitive. Even a desired touch can have a little pleasurable pain when the boobs are at this heightened state of sensitivity. But hey ho, I don’t mind. The pleasure of boob induced orgasms far outweighs the hazards.
Of course, the best thing for sensitive boobs is to have them gently caressed and the other thing is to ensure that you have a decent fitting bra.
Back to Rigby and Peller!
.........................................................................................................................................................
Sex and the Big Debate
Last Thursday saw the first televised debate between the three contenders for the British Prime Minister’s job. It is hardly a time for sexual commentary but it does have to be pointed out that there was a distinct lack of anything remotely sexual for the hour and a half of viewing.
Before you all throw up at the thought that there could be anything sexual about the election and these three candidates bear with me.
We hope that sexuality is important in peoples’ lives. The report from the LSE gives some academic credence to this. So why are there so few politicians that have this so called “erotic capital”?
Clegg, Brown and Cameron don’t. Well, as far as I am concerned they don’t. I cannot think of a single member of the cabinet who appears to ‘have it’ though I suspect that there are certain people who may have ‘had it’ in their time. For fear of litigation, I shall not mention people by name but they are there (and I will disclose my thoughts personally to anyone who wants to get in touch).
It strikes me that if there is such a thing as erotic capital then politicians who have this potential somehow divert this capital to another direction, i.e. the pursuit of power and the single track domination of their thoughts. Or maybe they never ‘had it’ so start off with.
Perhaps Dr. Hakim could do another study about the lack of erotic capital in our potential leaders, or perhaps she might see that capital in places where I am unable to notice.
The debate was about domestic issues and covered a range of subjects such as the economy, education, health, immigration and so forth. Clearly I wasn’t expecting a conversation about sex and I am not even sure what question on the subject I would have posed but there does seem to be a distinct lack of sex in the important political situation we find ourselves in today. Sex doesn’t appear to be a part of this election or indeed any election at all. Is there, in fact, a possibility that in life you either have politics or sex? Well, that is hardly true. Look at the Cecil Parkinson’s, the John Majors and the David Mellor’s of the world. Don’t look too hard. It’s not a pleasant scenario. In fear of being too partisan, there was also Robin Cook and I am sure I could wrack my brains for a Liberal sexual being if I thought of it – ah yes, Paddy Pantsdown!
It amazes me though that people who are interested in politics to the extreme of pursuing a position seem to be so asexual. Of course, Cameron has proved his virility just in time for this election by getting the dear Samantha preggars and both Clegg and Brown have fathered their share of children too but that is not quite the same thing as sexual presence and certainly isn’t the same as erotic capital.
The men were in grey suits, one was even in a grey shirt. There was nothing remotely sexual about any of them and the conversations did not include anything sexual either. Much has been made of the leader’s partners with Samantha having her own webcam and Sarah infamously twittering to a point that I think she has more followers than Stephen Fry these days. As for Miriam Clegg, she seems to be sensibly remaining in the background as much as possible, despite the fact that out of the three women, she probably has the most erotic capital.
Clearly sex and politics don’t mix although I personally believe that sex should be an integral part of people’s lives as should politics, even with a small ‘p’.
As for a question on sex for our three leaders, then maybe readers could help me out with this one. What question would you ask? I am not talking about further legislation around lap dancing or the decriminalisation of prostitution, I am talking about the sort of question that should be important to everyone, like “How can you ensure that there is a balance between people’s right to be sexual beings and the rights of individuals?” or “What are you going to do about the irony of overt sexualisation in society in a society where people are terrified to talk about their sexuality...... do you not suppose that there is a link?” Now that is an interesting question.
.....................................................................................................................................
Primark and its bikinis
And talking of sexualisation of society, I was delighted to hear that Primark had withdrawn their padded bikinis for seven year olds.
There was a bizarre article from Laurie Penny in the Guardian about it with an abundance of comments from people.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2010/apr/15/primark-padded-bikinis-mumsnet-sexuality
The article seemed to be defending the sales of padded bras and bikinis for seven year olds stating that it was perfectly acceptable for girls to have these items. At one point the author even states how much she would have liked a padded bra.
“I would have killed for a padded bra when I was in primary school, if only to give an extra boost to the wodges of toilet roll I had already begun to stuff into my crop-top”.
She went on to say there was a class element in this and that Marks and Sparks were not having to contend with the same sort of criticism with their “angel” range. On this she has a point.
She states the following.
“Far from protecting young girls, the "anti-sexualisation" agenda actually serves a culture that shames girls if they have sexual feelings of their own while fetishising them as objects of erotic capital.”
FFS Laurie, we are talking about seven year old girls here! Of course this mixed messages issue is a real issue. Overt sexual dress for young girls is not good. End of sentence. End of story. Of course there is an issue that we do not want young women to grow up thinking they should suppress their sexuality. We certainly don’t want women to purely be objects of erotic capital but the selling of padded bikinis to seven year olds is doing just that.
This woman has in the past, talked sense. She is committed to ensuring that women do not feel ashamed of their sexuality and that 21st century feminism empowers women to be sexual and to assert their sexuality without fear of reprimand or name-calling. If I have misinterpreted this, then apologies to Ms. Penny but really, this is entirely different from making seven year olds yearn for boobs at an age where they should not even be thinking of such things.
I am not an advocate of Mumsnet middle class, repressive sexuality, blah blah and I really don’t like to side with such people who would probably want a blog such as this shut down. However, on this occasion they are right. It is wrong to sexualise young girls in this way and it gives a very wrong message to them about the means of expressing their sexuality in the future.
Here is a comment from one person, Firebrandy from Comment if Free
I'm really sorry, Laurie - I read your Penny Red blog avidly and most of the time I think you are one of the few, extremely eloquent voices out there speaking up for the working classes. But on this issue I so strongly disagree with you.
Your final paragraph is an excellent point - about the commodification of sexuality and commercialisation that affects all women. But a preteen is a child. It's not necessary for them to wear a bra until puberty, at which time it's valid. Even nowadays, very few 7 year olds have hit puberty - and if they have they are probably going to be larger, so can fit into teen bras if they have to.
If there is such sexual bullying in schools then that should be tackled and stopped. Children should not have to be pressurised into feeling they have to pad themselves.
It's like saying that if children are teased for being too dark-skinned that they should be allowed to use bleaching products. There is a very, very clear case of right and wrong here and adults have a duty to allow kids to focus on their natural education and development before targeting them - in *any* retail outlet, whatever its class demographic.
Clearly this is a debate that needs further clarification. It yet again proves how fucked up we are in this country about sex, about sexualisation and about how we deal with it all on a personal and a societal perspective.
...............................................................................................................................
More sex please
To finish on a personal note, I have to say I am gagging for some decent sex, not that it has been that long since I had it but long enough. I was fine yesterday but today I am pretty eager.
In bed last night my pussy was as wet as a weekend in Wales as I played with myself and used my vibrator to get me going.
I’d love to have my beautiful cock (not that i own it, you understand) inside me along with the beautiful body and the stimulating mind that accompanies it.
Decent, urgent sex is fine and there are certainly times recently when I would be happy to snatch any time with the aforementioned cock. What really does it for me though is that connection between body parts, minds and souls. That is what I yearn for. That is sexuality at its very best. That is what everyone should have at some point in their lives.
Here’s hoping!
Goers
No sooner had Zenpuss written about “Goers” and the “Goerometer” that there was an article on Radio Four’s Woman’s Hour about a very similar subject. Admittedly, they didn’t put it in quite the same terms that I had but they were mentioning the fact that some people “had it” and that this could be successful in terms of career development.
By default, it seems that my theory may be bordering on the correct, i.e. that those who are sexually fulfilled may even show it when they are being interviewed for a job, and if the interviewers are looking out for something different, it might be the sexually fulfilled who get the job due to their confident air and subliminal show of eroticism.
That statement seems like a regression. I would hate to think that I had got any job that I went for because of my looks or the way I subconsciously oozed out a little of my sexuality but there has to be something in the fact that one sexual person might recognise the sexuality of another. In the mating game, I am sure this is the case.
Anyway, the article on Woman’s Hour was about a study from the London School of Economics.
The piece was titled, “Your Erotic Power can be just as useful as your qualifications finds study”.
Here is an extract from the LSE website.
http://www2.lse.ac.uk/newsAndMedia/news/archives/2010/03/erotic.aspx
Michelle and Barack Obama have it. Carla Bruni and David Beckham have it. Jordan and Paris Hilton made a career from it. Erotic capital is the implicit but powerful commodity that can count just as much as educational qualifications in the labour market, politics, media or the arts, finds a new report published today by a sociologist at the London School of Economics and Political Science.
'Beauty and sex appeal have become more important personal assets in the sexualised cultures of our liberal, modern societies, often just as important as educational qualifications' says Dr Catherine Hakim in the study.
She coins the term 'erotic capital' to refer to this difficult-to-define but crucial combination of physical and social attractiveness which makes some men and women agreeable company and colleagues, attractive to all members of their society and especially to the opposite sex.
She says: 'People who possess an above-average amount of erotic capital are more persuasive, are more often perceived as honest and competent. They find it easier to make friends, get jobs, get married, and tend to earn 15 per cent more on average as well'.
Erotic capital should be recognised as a new fourth category of personal asset which each of us possess to some degree (along with economic, cultural and social capital), argues her paper published in the European Sociological Review.
Dr. Hakim identifies six elements of erotic capital – or seven for women in countries where fertility is valued. The other six are: beauty, sexual attractiveness, social graces, liveliness, social presentation and sexuality performance.
She finds that women have the edge over men in these areas, partly because women work harder at being physically and socially attractive, and at dressing well. However, another reason is the large sex deficit that affects more men than women, universally. Recent national sex surveys show that, around the world, men's sexual interest greatly exceeds women's sexual interest and activity, especially among people aged 35 and over. So women are in greater demand as sexual partners, a dramatic reversal of men's advantage in courtship and marriage markets.
Dr Hakim said: 'Of course it has long been known that beautiful women could use that advantage to get on in life. But it has been assumed that was a tactic to make up for their lack of economic or social power, which would become irrelevant when men and women became more equal. Instead, I argue, erotic capital is something all of us trade on and we should see it as a major constituent of our social lives. It has growing importance in the workforce.'
Catherine Hakim's report, 'Erotic Capital' appears in the European Sociological Review, published by Oxford University Press, and will appear online at http://esr.oxfordjournals.org/papbyrecent.dtl
If you follow the link, you can see the paper in full.
http://esr.oxfordjournals.org/cgi/content/full/jcq014
The substance in this is quite interesting so I will do a more detailed blog later. However, it does make you think and it is quite good to see this “erotic capital” acknowledged, not necessarily as a means to furthering yourself in your career but because once more, it recognises the importance of sexuality in our lives when that significance has so frequently been pushed to one side.
More of this later.......
...........................................................................................................................
Back to Boobs
It struck me after writing about Rigby and Peller yesterday how infrequently women touch their boobs. I have written about this before and the importance of exploring your own body. Health wise, it is vital that a woman gets to know her boobs intimately. Small changes in size, veins and the appearance of the nipple could (and I say could with as much caution as possible) be an indicator that not all is right. Sometimes, the changes are linked to normal hormonal patterns of the monthly cycle. I know that when I am about to menstruate my boobs are heavier and ridiculously sensitive.
However, there are other reasons for a woman to get to know their tits as well.
I want to have some knowledge of what it is about me that my sexual partner desires or likes. My lover enjoys just occasionally, more than occasionally thankfully, taking my boobs in his hand almost as though he is verifying that they are still weighty and enjoyable to touch. I rather like the fact that there are times when he just feels an instinctive need to touch them.
In order to appreciate why he does this, I too feel my boobs to experience what he is wanting and as a reminder for when he is not here to do it.
And though I say it myself, they feel quite good and they are a little reminder of the sexual person that I am.
At the moment, for some reason that is not linked to my menstrual cycle, my boobs are very sensitive which is both positive and negative. Some may find this difficult to believe and others will have experienced this but last week, I had a gushing orgasm simply by having my nipples tweaked and my boobs handled. The mind has to work in conjunction with touch to enable this but it certainly happened and it felt really wonderful.
Often, when I am in the middle of penetrative sex, I grab my boobs to heighten the experience as a whole. Fondling your own tits whilst you are being gloriously fucked makes a difference, believe me. Not only does it give your lover an additional arousal at you touching yourself, it also, as I said, sensitises the whole sexual experience for yourself. If he is too busy down below to touch your boobs, then DIY!
As for the negative, well, let’s just say, that accidental or unwanted touches can be a little painful when the boobs are this sensitive. Even a desired touch can have a little pleasurable pain when the boobs are at this heightened state of sensitivity. But hey ho, I don’t mind. The pleasure of boob induced orgasms far outweighs the hazards.
Of course, the best thing for sensitive boobs is to have them gently caressed and the other thing is to ensure that you have a decent fitting bra.
Back to Rigby and Peller!
.........................................................................................................................................................
Sex and the Big Debate
Last Thursday saw the first televised debate between the three contenders for the British Prime Minister’s job. It is hardly a time for sexual commentary but it does have to be pointed out that there was a distinct lack of anything remotely sexual for the hour and a half of viewing.
Before you all throw up at the thought that there could be anything sexual about the election and these three candidates bear with me.
We hope that sexuality is important in peoples’ lives. The report from the LSE gives some academic credence to this. So why are there so few politicians that have this so called “erotic capital”?
Clegg, Brown and Cameron don’t. Well, as far as I am concerned they don’t. I cannot think of a single member of the cabinet who appears to ‘have it’ though I suspect that there are certain people who may have ‘had it’ in their time. For fear of litigation, I shall not mention people by name but they are there (and I will disclose my thoughts personally to anyone who wants to get in touch).
It strikes me that if there is such a thing as erotic capital then politicians who have this potential somehow divert this capital to another direction, i.e. the pursuit of power and the single track domination of their thoughts. Or maybe they never ‘had it’ so start off with.
Perhaps Dr. Hakim could do another study about the lack of erotic capital in our potential leaders, or perhaps she might see that capital in places where I am unable to notice.
The debate was about domestic issues and covered a range of subjects such as the economy, education, health, immigration and so forth. Clearly I wasn’t expecting a conversation about sex and I am not even sure what question on the subject I would have posed but there does seem to be a distinct lack of sex in the important political situation we find ourselves in today. Sex doesn’t appear to be a part of this election or indeed any election at all. Is there, in fact, a possibility that in life you either have politics or sex? Well, that is hardly true. Look at the Cecil Parkinson’s, the John Majors and the David Mellor’s of the world. Don’t look too hard. It’s not a pleasant scenario. In fear of being too partisan, there was also Robin Cook and I am sure I could wrack my brains for a Liberal sexual being if I thought of it – ah yes, Paddy Pantsdown!
It amazes me though that people who are interested in politics to the extreme of pursuing a position seem to be so asexual. Of course, Cameron has proved his virility just in time for this election by getting the dear Samantha preggars and both Clegg and Brown have fathered their share of children too but that is not quite the same thing as sexual presence and certainly isn’t the same as erotic capital.
The men were in grey suits, one was even in a grey shirt. There was nothing remotely sexual about any of them and the conversations did not include anything sexual either. Much has been made of the leader’s partners with Samantha having her own webcam and Sarah infamously twittering to a point that I think she has more followers than Stephen Fry these days. As for Miriam Clegg, she seems to be sensibly remaining in the background as much as possible, despite the fact that out of the three women, she probably has the most erotic capital.
Clearly sex and politics don’t mix although I personally believe that sex should be an integral part of people’s lives as should politics, even with a small ‘p’.
As for a question on sex for our three leaders, then maybe readers could help me out with this one. What question would you ask? I am not talking about further legislation around lap dancing or the decriminalisation of prostitution, I am talking about the sort of question that should be important to everyone, like “How can you ensure that there is a balance between people’s right to be sexual beings and the rights of individuals?” or “What are you going to do about the irony of overt sexualisation in society in a society where people are terrified to talk about their sexuality...... do you not suppose that there is a link?” Now that is an interesting question.
.....................................................................................................................................
Primark and its bikinis
And talking of sexualisation of society, I was delighted to hear that Primark had withdrawn their padded bikinis for seven year olds.
There was a bizarre article from Laurie Penny in the Guardian about it with an abundance of comments from people.
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2010/apr/15/primark-padded-bikinis-mumsnet-sexuality
The article seemed to be defending the sales of padded bras and bikinis for seven year olds stating that it was perfectly acceptable for girls to have these items. At one point the author even states how much she would have liked a padded bra.
“I would have killed for a padded bra when I was in primary school, if only to give an extra boost to the wodges of toilet roll I had already begun to stuff into my crop-top”.
She went on to say there was a class element in this and that Marks and Sparks were not having to contend with the same sort of criticism with their “angel” range. On this she has a point.
She states the following.
“Far from protecting young girls, the "anti-sexualisation" agenda actually serves a culture that shames girls if they have sexual feelings of their own while fetishising them as objects of erotic capital.”
FFS Laurie, we are talking about seven year old girls here! Of course this mixed messages issue is a real issue. Overt sexual dress for young girls is not good. End of sentence. End of story. Of course there is an issue that we do not want young women to grow up thinking they should suppress their sexuality. We certainly don’t want women to purely be objects of erotic capital but the selling of padded bikinis to seven year olds is doing just that.
This woman has in the past, talked sense. She is committed to ensuring that women do not feel ashamed of their sexuality and that 21st century feminism empowers women to be sexual and to assert their sexuality without fear of reprimand or name-calling. If I have misinterpreted this, then apologies to Ms. Penny but really, this is entirely different from making seven year olds yearn for boobs at an age where they should not even be thinking of such things.
I am not an advocate of Mumsnet middle class, repressive sexuality, blah blah and I really don’t like to side with such people who would probably want a blog such as this shut down. However, on this occasion they are right. It is wrong to sexualise young girls in this way and it gives a very wrong message to them about the means of expressing their sexuality in the future.
Here is a comment from one person, Firebrandy from Comment if Free
I'm really sorry, Laurie - I read your Penny Red blog avidly and most of the time I think you are one of the few, extremely eloquent voices out there speaking up for the working classes. But on this issue I so strongly disagree with you.
Your final paragraph is an excellent point - about the commodification of sexuality and commercialisation that affects all women. But a preteen is a child. It's not necessary for them to wear a bra until puberty, at which time it's valid. Even nowadays, very few 7 year olds have hit puberty - and if they have they are probably going to be larger, so can fit into teen bras if they have to.
If there is such sexual bullying in schools then that should be tackled and stopped. Children should not have to be pressurised into feeling they have to pad themselves.
It's like saying that if children are teased for being too dark-skinned that they should be allowed to use bleaching products. There is a very, very clear case of right and wrong here and adults have a duty to allow kids to focus on their natural education and development before targeting them - in *any* retail outlet, whatever its class demographic.
Clearly this is a debate that needs further clarification. It yet again proves how fucked up we are in this country about sex, about sexualisation and about how we deal with it all on a personal and a societal perspective.
...............................................................................................................................
More sex please
To finish on a personal note, I have to say I am gagging for some decent sex, not that it has been that long since I had it but long enough. I was fine yesterday but today I am pretty eager.
In bed last night my pussy was as wet as a weekend in Wales as I played with myself and used my vibrator to get me going.
I’d love to have my beautiful cock (not that i own it, you understand) inside me along with the beautiful body and the stimulating mind that accompanies it.
Decent, urgent sex is fine and there are certainly times recently when I would be happy to snatch any time with the aforementioned cock. What really does it for me though is that connection between body parts, minds and souls. That is what I yearn for. That is sexuality at its very best. That is what everyone should have at some point in their lives.
Here’s hoping!
Saturday 17 April 2010
Bras and boobs and best fits
Bras and boobs
Last night Miranda Hart was on Frank Skinner’s new show describing her visit to Rigby and Peller.
For those who have not heard about this store, it is a good old fashioned lingerie shop.
http://www.rigbyandpeller.com/
Take a look at the website. If you are anything like me, you get a small thrill from looking at such a site.
I have always had a distinct pleasure in looking at lingerie, preferably on a beautiful model but decent knickers will stand up on their own (!) as the glorious piece of clothing that they are. There are some divine panties and beautiful bras on this site as well as other tasteful lingerie.
I like to imagine myself both in and out of these products. I like to imagine someone looking at me as I undress to reveal this exceptionally good lingerie and how eager fingers would like to search out the intimate parts of my body that are enhanced by the quality of the craftsmanship of perfectly designed bras and panties.
I’m already turned on by the thought. I really do love fingers reaching into my pussy whilst eyes are feasting on sexy panties. Wonderful.
What sets Rigby and Peller aside from other shops is the way that they fit bras. Apparently, on visiting one of their shops, you are guided into a room and asked to remove your bra. The assistant then gawps at your boobs, their size, your posture, the intricate details of every woman’s voluptuousness and then dashes out to grab a selection of bras for you.
They usually return with a range of bras that appear to be far bigger than the one that you are wearing. This does not surprise me at all. Most women have no idea of their bra size. They reached a certain size at the end of their growth and they stick with that particular measurement, irrespective of whether they are bulging out the side of their containers.
Not only do women not know the size of their lovely ones, they don’t know how to put a bra on.
I don’t put a bra on properly. I do what most women do; clip the bra in front of the boobs, twist it round and then put the arm straps on, finally manoeuvring my tits into the cups. Not very sexy.
Apparently on should put the arm straps on first, lever your big ones into the cups, mould them in and then take the strap fastens around to the back and place them together. Once done, you can readjust at the front.
At Rigby and Peller, they tell you all about this.
I can’t afford Rigby and Peller lingerie. Well, I might be able to but I am not sure that I can justify spending £50 on a pair of panties or £70 on a bra but in saying this, isn’t this yet more proof of a topsy turvy world?
I frequently pay £40 for a skirt or a pair of jeans and the same amount for a decent top. I do this because that is the price of clothes and I do try and look decent. If you apply the same rule to underwear, I also want to look good in my lingerie. The only difference is that these clothes are potentially seen by far fewer people. The reward for dressing seductively and tastefully in expensive, well-made lingerie should be worth the cost and twofold. Therefore, what is wrong in splashing out on something that makes you feel energised, sexual and downright horny?
So, I now am stuck with a vivid fantasy in my mind. I am walking through Knightsbridge or Mayfair and I come across the front window of this lingerie shop, which from the front is indistinguishable from other posh shops; no overt displays of what is promised inside. (This wouldn’t happen in France – the gorgeous seductive garments would be out on the window display, enticing people in. What a weird place this country is!).
I enter into the shop with my lover. He has to be there because he is going to choose the right fit, the right colour, the panties that he wants to trickle his fingers through.
We ask the assistant for some support, obviously choosing the most attractive person to serve us. We also ask if my lover can come into the changing room with me. She hasn’t had such a request before which strikes me as rather odd. Surely the partners of customers are going to get as much gratification out of the sale as the person who is going to wear the garments?
She asks the manager who agrees.
My lover takes a seat in the corner of the room. I have passed my cardigan to him to have on his lap, just in case he needs to cover himself up. I then unbutton my shirt, remove my camisole and then reach behind to unbuckle my bra. I gently remove the garment, not too slowly in case the assistant thinks I am trying to seduce her (which I probably am), not too quickly so that my lover can get a small thrill from me unveiling myself to another woman.
I then look directly into the eyes of the assistant who is concentrating fully on her analysis of my boobs. My lover, meanwhile, is making use of my cardigan as he looks at the arse of the assistant, and gets marginally aroused as she sweeps her eyes over my E sized tits.
Once she has analysed the size and proportions of my tits, she wanders off and I remain standing there in silence as my lover pushes aside the cardigan to show me his erection. I, in turn, place my hands down towards my pussy and press hard to remind him that I am as turned on as he is.
The assistant returns and guides me into the first bra. My lover remains seated as he watches this young woman carefully touching my tits as she smoothes the bra over my boobs. I ask naive questions as to whether it is fitting properly around the cleavage so that the assistant has to return to my body to readjust the shapely lace around me. My lover is sniggering silently at my blatancy, knowing that I have only asked for this adjustment for my own sexual pleasure.
This pattern of query and readjustment happens with each of the bras that the assistant has chosen to try on me. At one point, I ask my lover to come and look around my back to see what the bra looks like from the back. He comes straight up to me and cheekily jiggles my right boob, just checking the fit, of course. The assistant averts her eyes as we flirt in this familiar way.
We finally agree on a bra – possibly this one http://www.rigbyandpeller.com/Sexy_Lingerie/sc1282/p11161.aspx
And my lover asks if there are some panties that match.
The assistant goes off and brings back a selection of styles; G strings, briefs, lacy thongs and shorts.
My lover chooses the pair he wants me to have, possibly these http://www.rigbyandpeller.com/Sexy_Lingerie/sc1282/p11438.aspx
Once the sale is agreed, my lover asks if I can keep the bra and panties on, making it quite clear that he intends to whip them both off at the earliest opportunity. What he doesn’t say to the assistant, but what I know, is that he is going to fuck me whilst I wear both of these items, and he is going to take plenty of photos of their inaugural sex session.
We leave the shop excited, sexually charged and eager to get to somewhere where we can make use of the arousal that we have just experienced.
.....................................................................................
There is another ending to this fantasy and I will write about that tomorrow...............
.....................................................................................
In all seriousness, women should be more concerned about the underwear that they choose. I really want women to feel positive about their sexuality and choosing the right underwear is so vital to this. What is sexy for some is not sexy for others. Some people do not want the overt Ann Summers style of sexuality. For others, this is perfect. This is what they feel good in.
Some want thongs and others want silky material to cover their arses in a sensual way.
Some need full cup bras, others like the enhancement of a half cup lift. Everyone should get to know what is right for them, and what is enticing for their partners.
How many women actually ask their sexual partners what they would like them to wear? How many women know their lover’s preferences?
It’s time to reconsider the expenditure on lingerie. I am beginning to think this is precisely how I should be spending my well-earned money.
Last night Miranda Hart was on Frank Skinner’s new show describing her visit to Rigby and Peller.
For those who have not heard about this store, it is a good old fashioned lingerie shop.
http://www.rigbyandpeller.com/
Take a look at the website. If you are anything like me, you get a small thrill from looking at such a site.
I have always had a distinct pleasure in looking at lingerie, preferably on a beautiful model but decent knickers will stand up on their own (!) as the glorious piece of clothing that they are. There are some divine panties and beautiful bras on this site as well as other tasteful lingerie.
I like to imagine myself both in and out of these products. I like to imagine someone looking at me as I undress to reveal this exceptionally good lingerie and how eager fingers would like to search out the intimate parts of my body that are enhanced by the quality of the craftsmanship of perfectly designed bras and panties.
I’m already turned on by the thought. I really do love fingers reaching into my pussy whilst eyes are feasting on sexy panties. Wonderful.
What sets Rigby and Peller aside from other shops is the way that they fit bras. Apparently, on visiting one of their shops, you are guided into a room and asked to remove your bra. The assistant then gawps at your boobs, their size, your posture, the intricate details of every woman’s voluptuousness and then dashes out to grab a selection of bras for you.
They usually return with a range of bras that appear to be far bigger than the one that you are wearing. This does not surprise me at all. Most women have no idea of their bra size. They reached a certain size at the end of their growth and they stick with that particular measurement, irrespective of whether they are bulging out the side of their containers.
Not only do women not know the size of their lovely ones, they don’t know how to put a bra on.
I don’t put a bra on properly. I do what most women do; clip the bra in front of the boobs, twist it round and then put the arm straps on, finally manoeuvring my tits into the cups. Not very sexy.
Apparently on should put the arm straps on first, lever your big ones into the cups, mould them in and then take the strap fastens around to the back and place them together. Once done, you can readjust at the front.
At Rigby and Peller, they tell you all about this.
I can’t afford Rigby and Peller lingerie. Well, I might be able to but I am not sure that I can justify spending £50 on a pair of panties or £70 on a bra but in saying this, isn’t this yet more proof of a topsy turvy world?
I frequently pay £40 for a skirt or a pair of jeans and the same amount for a decent top. I do this because that is the price of clothes and I do try and look decent. If you apply the same rule to underwear, I also want to look good in my lingerie. The only difference is that these clothes are potentially seen by far fewer people. The reward for dressing seductively and tastefully in expensive, well-made lingerie should be worth the cost and twofold. Therefore, what is wrong in splashing out on something that makes you feel energised, sexual and downright horny?
So, I now am stuck with a vivid fantasy in my mind. I am walking through Knightsbridge or Mayfair and I come across the front window of this lingerie shop, which from the front is indistinguishable from other posh shops; no overt displays of what is promised inside. (This wouldn’t happen in France – the gorgeous seductive garments would be out on the window display, enticing people in. What a weird place this country is!).
I enter into the shop with my lover. He has to be there because he is going to choose the right fit, the right colour, the panties that he wants to trickle his fingers through.
We ask the assistant for some support, obviously choosing the most attractive person to serve us. We also ask if my lover can come into the changing room with me. She hasn’t had such a request before which strikes me as rather odd. Surely the partners of customers are going to get as much gratification out of the sale as the person who is going to wear the garments?
She asks the manager who agrees.
My lover takes a seat in the corner of the room. I have passed my cardigan to him to have on his lap, just in case he needs to cover himself up. I then unbutton my shirt, remove my camisole and then reach behind to unbuckle my bra. I gently remove the garment, not too slowly in case the assistant thinks I am trying to seduce her (which I probably am), not too quickly so that my lover can get a small thrill from me unveiling myself to another woman.
I then look directly into the eyes of the assistant who is concentrating fully on her analysis of my boobs. My lover, meanwhile, is making use of my cardigan as he looks at the arse of the assistant, and gets marginally aroused as she sweeps her eyes over my E sized tits.
Once she has analysed the size and proportions of my tits, she wanders off and I remain standing there in silence as my lover pushes aside the cardigan to show me his erection. I, in turn, place my hands down towards my pussy and press hard to remind him that I am as turned on as he is.
The assistant returns and guides me into the first bra. My lover remains seated as he watches this young woman carefully touching my tits as she smoothes the bra over my boobs. I ask naive questions as to whether it is fitting properly around the cleavage so that the assistant has to return to my body to readjust the shapely lace around me. My lover is sniggering silently at my blatancy, knowing that I have only asked for this adjustment for my own sexual pleasure.
This pattern of query and readjustment happens with each of the bras that the assistant has chosen to try on me. At one point, I ask my lover to come and look around my back to see what the bra looks like from the back. He comes straight up to me and cheekily jiggles my right boob, just checking the fit, of course. The assistant averts her eyes as we flirt in this familiar way.
We finally agree on a bra – possibly this one http://www.rigbyandpeller.com/Sexy_Lingerie/sc1282/p11161.aspx
And my lover asks if there are some panties that match.
The assistant goes off and brings back a selection of styles; G strings, briefs, lacy thongs and shorts.
My lover chooses the pair he wants me to have, possibly these http://www.rigbyandpeller.com/Sexy_Lingerie/sc1282/p11438.aspx
Once the sale is agreed, my lover asks if I can keep the bra and panties on, making it quite clear that he intends to whip them both off at the earliest opportunity. What he doesn’t say to the assistant, but what I know, is that he is going to fuck me whilst I wear both of these items, and he is going to take plenty of photos of their inaugural sex session.
We leave the shop excited, sexually charged and eager to get to somewhere where we can make use of the arousal that we have just experienced.
.....................................................................................
There is another ending to this fantasy and I will write about that tomorrow...............
.....................................................................................
In all seriousness, women should be more concerned about the underwear that they choose. I really want women to feel positive about their sexuality and choosing the right underwear is so vital to this. What is sexy for some is not sexy for others. Some people do not want the overt Ann Summers style of sexuality. For others, this is perfect. This is what they feel good in.
Some want thongs and others want silky material to cover their arses in a sensual way.
Some need full cup bras, others like the enhancement of a half cup lift. Everyone should get to know what is right for them, and what is enticing for their partners.
How many women actually ask their sexual partners what they would like them to wear? How many women know their lover’s preferences?
It’s time to reconsider the expenditure on lingerie. I am beginning to think this is precisely how I should be spending my well-earned money.
Tuesday 13 April 2010
Goers: Part One
“Out of all the good looking girls at school, you’ve still got it. Others haven’t” – so said an old friend that I met yesterday.
He went on to say that he was being absolutely serious. Over the years, he’d met quite a few of what he deemed to be ‘fit birds’ with whom he had spent his formative years but none of them had managed to maintain their sparkle, their good looks and their charm. I, on the other hand, had done so.
Flattery will get him everywhere. He has lost none of his ability to charm either, and for an instant, I was most grateful for his observations, irrespective of whether there was an ounce of truth in them.
The fact is I never thought I was good looking. I knew that there were certain features of mine that appealed to certain people but I was not good looking. Not only that, but I wasn’t really that interested in my appearance either. I never plastered my face with make-up. I never learned how to apply eye shadow. I just did what I did to look presentable. I was and continue to be completely unconfident of my looks and hope that those who know me see beyond the features of me physical being.
But this comment did make me think, as little asides tend to do. What was this man actually seeing as good looking? What was it that made him think I had maintained my looks?
Recently, I have got in touch with a few old school friends via the social networking site. They too have made comment about my appearance; that I look as they expected, that I haven’t changed and that I am still as beautiful as ever.
This genuinely surprises me. I am quite astonished at these comments and the very fact that they are voiced.
What are they seeing? What are they seeing that I cannot see in myself?
Beauty, they say, is in the eye of the beholder but the definition of beauty is far greater than that. What I think they are possibly seeing, is an image of a woman who, on the face of it, seems contented and calm, who is happy with her lot and who is assured to a certain extent. The fact is that I am none of these, and yet simultaneously, I am sometimes all of these.
I am beginning to think that what they see is a woman who is sexually fulfilled.
I think that sexually fulfilled people show it on their faces. We jest about whether someone is a “goer” or not. Ever played that particular game, when you walk around or do a spot of people watching and decide whether they are likely to be a decent fuck or not?
I have, and there are clear differentiations.
I have seen some stunningly good looking women but as soon as you look further than the explicit beauty on their faces or beyond their perfectly shaped bodies, you can see no sexual spirit. You can imagine them looking utterly divine lying naked on a bed but simultaneously, you can imagine them being totally unadventurous or even excited about the prospect of decent sex.
They are no goers. They are devoid of sexual presence. They look good but they don’t convey any feeling of being sexual beings.
Conversely, you might see a decent looking person who has a slight flaw of sorts. They may not be tall enough or they may be more portly than desired, yet they have that twinkle, that sparkle that makes you know they are having a fucking good sex life.
These people do not have a physical twinkle. It isn’t that their eyes are more sparkly or that their posture is more pronounced. They just have something that is indescribable but present.
It might be that they are not sexually stimulated but they certainly have the capacity to be so. There is just something that defines people as “goers” that does not rely on the clothes they are wearing or the natural beauty of the being.
I’ve always wondered about this so-called Gayometer. My gay friends do have this ability to spot a gay man a million miles before I do, and my Gaydar is actually relatively well-tuned. They don’t talk or look in a different way but within walking into a bar or a museum or simply walking along a busy street, my friends can spot the homosexuals.
Is there a heterosexual equivalent? I think there possibly is. It is the “Goerometer”; the one that I have just described. I think that sexually enlightened people who are in tune and comfortable with their own sexuality can spot similar people who are likely to be goers too. Sometimes they are easier to spot than other times. Sometimes, the clothes they wear make it clear that they are ‘goers’, though one has to be extremely careful in making such a statement. The abuse of assumption is painfully too obvious to the extent that one should never assume that a woman who is revealing her cleavage is up for a grab. They are not!
How this phenomenon happens I have no idea but it is more generalist than an attraction thing. That is different, though of course the Goerometer can trigger in a meeting with an equally attractive person.
You may look at Goers using your inbuilt goerometer and simply recognise them as sexual beings without wanting to take them down a side street to fuck the living daylights out of them. All you are doing is acknowledging their sexuality.
With attraction, it is different. You do want to do something about these goers. You want the full, unadulterated extent of their sexuality deep inside you; the deeper the better.
What I think my long lost friend saw yesterday was a woman who was a bit of a goer. I’m not suggesting that he imagined me sitting with my legs sprawled awaiting some action, and as charming as this man is, I have never found him remotely attractive so there wasn’t that mutual attraction thing going on at all. But I do think there is something telling in certain faces, in my face, that I am a woman who needs sexual fulfilment.
The external beauty that comes from that sexual fulfilment is there for people to see if they are looking for it, maybe even if they are not.
A few years ago, I met another friend who I hadn’t seen for some time. She took one look at me and asked me how my sex life was. She knew instantly that I was having the best sex of my life, though I denied it completely, and in a similar way that I have done with others, I made her doubt her intuition. But believe me, she had seen it. She had recognised something in me that was different from the last time I had seen her. I was officially now a “goer”. I had reached, or so I thought, my sexual peak. It was not going to get better than this. I was a sexual being and I was bloody determined to maintain this.
Vulva juice. There is a perfume that emulates the scent of pussy. How cool is that? I really must get some to see if it does what it says on the box, but goers don’t need this scent to show that they are sexual beings, though I really like the idea of smelling of sex to exacerbate what other people are already thinking about my sexuality. Goers use their goerometer to notice someone else’s sexuality, though there is nothing wrong with using as many senses as possible to increase your sexual pleasure.
My friends, I think, have seen this part of me without being able to actually attribute this so-called beauty to the sexuality that I have embraced.
I still think they would be shocked to consider how much this woman is empowered by her sexuality. I still think they would be incredibly shocked to know how much this woman wants to look at pornography, wants to fuck as often as possible, wants to be filmed spraying her come across a room, wants to kiss women and men simultaneously, how she wants to gag on her lover’s cock.
I still think, despite them looking into the eyes of this particular goer, that they would not see any of that.
After all, I’m a sweet little innocent in their eyes.
He went on to say that he was being absolutely serious. Over the years, he’d met quite a few of what he deemed to be ‘fit birds’ with whom he had spent his formative years but none of them had managed to maintain their sparkle, their good looks and their charm. I, on the other hand, had done so.
Flattery will get him everywhere. He has lost none of his ability to charm either, and for an instant, I was most grateful for his observations, irrespective of whether there was an ounce of truth in them.
The fact is I never thought I was good looking. I knew that there were certain features of mine that appealed to certain people but I was not good looking. Not only that, but I wasn’t really that interested in my appearance either. I never plastered my face with make-up. I never learned how to apply eye shadow. I just did what I did to look presentable. I was and continue to be completely unconfident of my looks and hope that those who know me see beyond the features of me physical being.
But this comment did make me think, as little asides tend to do. What was this man actually seeing as good looking? What was it that made him think I had maintained my looks?
Recently, I have got in touch with a few old school friends via the social networking site. They too have made comment about my appearance; that I look as they expected, that I haven’t changed and that I am still as beautiful as ever.
This genuinely surprises me. I am quite astonished at these comments and the very fact that they are voiced.
What are they seeing? What are they seeing that I cannot see in myself?
Beauty, they say, is in the eye of the beholder but the definition of beauty is far greater than that. What I think they are possibly seeing, is an image of a woman who, on the face of it, seems contented and calm, who is happy with her lot and who is assured to a certain extent. The fact is that I am none of these, and yet simultaneously, I am sometimes all of these.
I am beginning to think that what they see is a woman who is sexually fulfilled.
I think that sexually fulfilled people show it on their faces. We jest about whether someone is a “goer” or not. Ever played that particular game, when you walk around or do a spot of people watching and decide whether they are likely to be a decent fuck or not?
I have, and there are clear differentiations.
I have seen some stunningly good looking women but as soon as you look further than the explicit beauty on their faces or beyond their perfectly shaped bodies, you can see no sexual spirit. You can imagine them looking utterly divine lying naked on a bed but simultaneously, you can imagine them being totally unadventurous or even excited about the prospect of decent sex.
They are no goers. They are devoid of sexual presence. They look good but they don’t convey any feeling of being sexual beings.
Conversely, you might see a decent looking person who has a slight flaw of sorts. They may not be tall enough or they may be more portly than desired, yet they have that twinkle, that sparkle that makes you know they are having a fucking good sex life.
These people do not have a physical twinkle. It isn’t that their eyes are more sparkly or that their posture is more pronounced. They just have something that is indescribable but present.
It might be that they are not sexually stimulated but they certainly have the capacity to be so. There is just something that defines people as “goers” that does not rely on the clothes they are wearing or the natural beauty of the being.
I’ve always wondered about this so-called Gayometer. My gay friends do have this ability to spot a gay man a million miles before I do, and my Gaydar is actually relatively well-tuned. They don’t talk or look in a different way but within walking into a bar or a museum or simply walking along a busy street, my friends can spot the homosexuals.
Is there a heterosexual equivalent? I think there possibly is. It is the “Goerometer”; the one that I have just described. I think that sexually enlightened people who are in tune and comfortable with their own sexuality can spot similar people who are likely to be goers too. Sometimes they are easier to spot than other times. Sometimes, the clothes they wear make it clear that they are ‘goers’, though one has to be extremely careful in making such a statement. The abuse of assumption is painfully too obvious to the extent that one should never assume that a woman who is revealing her cleavage is up for a grab. They are not!
How this phenomenon happens I have no idea but it is more generalist than an attraction thing. That is different, though of course the Goerometer can trigger in a meeting with an equally attractive person.
You may look at Goers using your inbuilt goerometer and simply recognise them as sexual beings without wanting to take them down a side street to fuck the living daylights out of them. All you are doing is acknowledging their sexuality.
With attraction, it is different. You do want to do something about these goers. You want the full, unadulterated extent of their sexuality deep inside you; the deeper the better.
What I think my long lost friend saw yesterday was a woman who was a bit of a goer. I’m not suggesting that he imagined me sitting with my legs sprawled awaiting some action, and as charming as this man is, I have never found him remotely attractive so there wasn’t that mutual attraction thing going on at all. But I do think there is something telling in certain faces, in my face, that I am a woman who needs sexual fulfilment.
The external beauty that comes from that sexual fulfilment is there for people to see if they are looking for it, maybe even if they are not.
A few years ago, I met another friend who I hadn’t seen for some time. She took one look at me and asked me how my sex life was. She knew instantly that I was having the best sex of my life, though I denied it completely, and in a similar way that I have done with others, I made her doubt her intuition. But believe me, she had seen it. She had recognised something in me that was different from the last time I had seen her. I was officially now a “goer”. I had reached, or so I thought, my sexual peak. It was not going to get better than this. I was a sexual being and I was bloody determined to maintain this.
Vulva juice. There is a perfume that emulates the scent of pussy. How cool is that? I really must get some to see if it does what it says on the box, but goers don’t need this scent to show that they are sexual beings, though I really like the idea of smelling of sex to exacerbate what other people are already thinking about my sexuality. Goers use their goerometer to notice someone else’s sexuality, though there is nothing wrong with using as many senses as possible to increase your sexual pleasure.
My friends, I think, have seen this part of me without being able to actually attribute this so-called beauty to the sexuality that I have embraced.
I still think they would be shocked to consider how much this woman is empowered by her sexuality. I still think they would be incredibly shocked to know how much this woman wants to look at pornography, wants to fuck as often as possible, wants to be filmed spraying her come across a room, wants to kiss women and men simultaneously, how she wants to gag on her lover’s cock.
I still think, despite them looking into the eyes of this particular goer, that they would not see any of that.
After all, I’m a sweet little innocent in their eyes.
Monday 12 April 2010
Commitment and Companionship
Commitment and Companionship
A dictionary definition for both words comes up with the following;
Commitment: when you are willing to give your time and energy to something you believe in, or a promise or firm decision to do something.
There are other words used to describe commitment too; engagement, involvement, perpetration, confinement, consignment.
Companionship: the enjoyment of spending time with other people.
Other definitions include words such as fellowship, association, match, mate.
These are fairly bland definitions for two important words. Can you have companionship without some form of commitment? Can you have commitment without companionship in the human relations aspect of the word?
The Urban Dictionary offers other definitions.
Commitment:
Commitment is what
Transforms the promise into reality.
It is the words that speak
Boldly of your intentions.
And the actions which speak
Louder than the words.
It is making the time
When there is none.
Coming through time
After time after time,
Year after year after year.
Commitment is the stuff
Character is made of;
The power to change
The face of things.
It is the daily triumph
Of integrity over scepticism.
When I say I love you, I mean that I'm committed to working to love you even when it's hard.
Something men are frequently afraid of.
Proposal of this will most definently (sic) end a relationship.
Sticking with something long after the mood you have said it in has left you.
Companionship:
“when u meet a friend who isent a fcukin bitch and backstaber. Thats a one and a million shot.” (sic)
Clearly not a word that people have thought about very much, which is interesting in itself.
It’s election time in the UK, and there are people crawling out of the woodwork to promise this and assure us of that. There are white lies surfacing as quick as a priest’s erection at a football match. (Sorry for the offence, it was topical black humour that first sprang to mind for that simile.)
There is talk of commitment from all parties to ensure that the British public get what they deserve, what is best for them. There is companionship abound with partners supporting their spouses and sudden ‘best of friends’ between politicians on the same side who clearly cannot abide the sight of one another. It’s all so false and so far removed from what we need and what we are likely to get.
And then there are the pledges. Today, New Labour is launching their manifesto. Tomorrow it is the turn of the Tories and the day after that, the Liberals will explain what they would propose in the highly unlikely event that they will get to power, other than by means of a Lib Lab pact. Though each of these parties entice us with little snippets of what is going to be in the manifesto, ensuring that those of us who give a damn maintain just about enough interest to switch on for the launch.
This weekend, the Tories promised a marriage tax break that would amount to an additional £150 per annum as a reward for “commitment”.
There, they used the “C” word. Oh how I would love them to use the other “C” word in public. I actually think that if anyone was honest enough to turn round on television or in some quiet hustings and say “He’s talking bollocks and he’s a cunt”then they might just get my vote!
Cameron and his cronies have used this “commitment” word in a considered way. They have also recognised in their glorious political correctness to reward Civil Partnerships within this tax break. Apparently, “commitment” is some sort of means to greater stability in life. It suggests a society that is calm and compliant, that the commitment to another being is synonymous with a commitment to being a good person, a follower, a loyal servant. It shows determination and willing engagement.
The Tories say that this should be commended, and apparently that you can only prove a commitment by being married or being part of a civil partnership.
Interesting, eh!
It is such a shallow interpretation of the word, and that is before you get onto the Newspeak notions behind such a pledge. £150 isn’t exactly a lot of money. It is not going to be life changing, even for the most impoverished in our country. Sam and Courtney are not going to rush down to registry office for such a paltry amount of money. It would probably cost them about five times that much to get married in the first place.
What really riles me about this isn’t about the ‘reward’ for being committed, it is the suggestion that only these people can be committed, and by default, it is only these people who can be committed to anything.
I have friends that are not married, quite a few of them actually. Some of them are committed to bachelordom, some are committed to their work, and others are committed to having a fucking good time, knobbing anything in trousers, preferably with their hands tied behind their back. Others are committed to making the world a better place. I’ve known people who have been in deeply committed relationships; monogamous to the last, only the commitment hasn’t lasted a lifetime. They’ve had a series of committed relationships, goof, honest, loving, caring, committed relationships.
I’m actually quite committed to my lover. Does that mean that I should get a doubling of the £150 if I can prove in some way that I am committed to him as well?
There are people I know who have lived together for years and have no intention of getting married. Are they less committed than the couple who have been married for five years and have never had a week without argument, disagreement and continue to have a complete lack of concern for their spouse?
You cannot go around using such words with such flippant disregard for their meaning. I know that some might say that I am being pedantic but I don’t think I am.
Language is so vital and believe me, the Tories HQ would not have allowed that word to be used without considering it very carefully.
There is also the complacent belief that once someone has made a commitment in marriage or in civil partnership that this is the end deal. Has Cameron considered that? Is “commitment” the be all and end all of life”? What does commitment actually prove? How committed is committed or is commitment, as interpreted here, merely a societal conformity. What he is actually saying is that he wants to reward people for committing to “normality”.
Companionship, on the other hand, is something else. In companionship, I feel that there is a commitment that goes beyond the signing of papers or the overt demonstration of togetherness. If Cameron really wants to reward something that would actually make a difference to society, he should look at people who have the ability to be good companions, those who are “committed” to the wellbeing of others and show how they can empathise and understand the needs of others as well as themselves.
Cameron should look for the joy and the bliss of positive friendship as a means of stability. Here’s a vote winner – perhaps he should look at the number of “friends” people have on Facebook or the number of Twitter followers people have, and give them a tax break as this could be a sign of someone who is a good companion, who is interested in other people.
Of course, I am clearly talking bollocks. The number of friends of Facebook is probably more indicative of someone who is far from being a companion! It is probably a sign of an egotistical maniac who spends so long accruing friends on Facebook that they never actually leave the house to have a proper, collegiate conversation with another human being, or that the links with their so-called friends are so tenuous that they probably met some of them on a bus one day in 1989 in Swindon as they were passing through.
The point is that you cannot possibly measure companionship just as I am convinced that you cannot determine commitment in this crude and unfortunate way.
True commitment and real companionship defies the restrictions of definition and therefore it should not even be considered as something that can determine a tax break. It is as shallow as the people who suggest it in the first place.
Commitment cannot be measured by whether someone has a marriage certificate. Looking too deeply into the meaning of companionship is full of flaws too, if put into this sort of context.
Why is Zenpuss writing about such things?
Because they are important!
Sexual enlightenment is partly to do with freeing the mind. Part of sexual enlightenment is about enabling someone to acknowledge their true sexual self, and in order to do this, I do think it is important to look at language, to interpret and often re-interpret these words and to consider the significance of such words in their lives.
If you are to be truly enlightened, you have to consider what societal values are being pushed on you. I’ll get my money from Cameron if he is elected but it doesn’t mean that I am more committed to one relationship than another. It doesn’t mean that I am compliant and that I am going to conform to a certain way of living. My own sexual enlightenment has carried me some distance along the path, and for all the money that Cameron can throw my way, I cannot go against the real me any longer and just comply to a certain, fixed and stereotypical way of living.
A dictionary definition for both words comes up with the following;
Commitment: when you are willing to give your time and energy to something you believe in, or a promise or firm decision to do something.
There are other words used to describe commitment too; engagement, involvement, perpetration, confinement, consignment.
Companionship: the enjoyment of spending time with other people.
Other definitions include words such as fellowship, association, match, mate.
These are fairly bland definitions for two important words. Can you have companionship without some form of commitment? Can you have commitment without companionship in the human relations aspect of the word?
The Urban Dictionary offers other definitions.
Commitment:
Commitment is what
Transforms the promise into reality.
It is the words that speak
Boldly of your intentions.
And the actions which speak
Louder than the words.
It is making the time
When there is none.
Coming through time
After time after time,
Year after year after year.
Commitment is the stuff
Character is made of;
The power to change
The face of things.
It is the daily triumph
Of integrity over scepticism.
When I say I love you, I mean that I'm committed to working to love you even when it's hard.
Something men are frequently afraid of.
Proposal of this will most definently (sic) end a relationship.
Sticking with something long after the mood you have said it in has left you.
Companionship:
“when u meet a friend who isent a fcukin bitch and backstaber. Thats a one and a million shot.” (sic)
Clearly not a word that people have thought about very much, which is interesting in itself.
It’s election time in the UK, and there are people crawling out of the woodwork to promise this and assure us of that. There are white lies surfacing as quick as a priest’s erection at a football match. (Sorry for the offence, it was topical black humour that first sprang to mind for that simile.)
There is talk of commitment from all parties to ensure that the British public get what they deserve, what is best for them. There is companionship abound with partners supporting their spouses and sudden ‘best of friends’ between politicians on the same side who clearly cannot abide the sight of one another. It’s all so false and so far removed from what we need and what we are likely to get.
And then there are the pledges. Today, New Labour is launching their manifesto. Tomorrow it is the turn of the Tories and the day after that, the Liberals will explain what they would propose in the highly unlikely event that they will get to power, other than by means of a Lib Lab pact. Though each of these parties entice us with little snippets of what is going to be in the manifesto, ensuring that those of us who give a damn maintain just about enough interest to switch on for the launch.
This weekend, the Tories promised a marriage tax break that would amount to an additional £150 per annum as a reward for “commitment”.
There, they used the “C” word. Oh how I would love them to use the other “C” word in public. I actually think that if anyone was honest enough to turn round on television or in some quiet hustings and say “He’s talking bollocks and he’s a cunt”then they might just get my vote!
Cameron and his cronies have used this “commitment” word in a considered way. They have also recognised in their glorious political correctness to reward Civil Partnerships within this tax break. Apparently, “commitment” is some sort of means to greater stability in life. It suggests a society that is calm and compliant, that the commitment to another being is synonymous with a commitment to being a good person, a follower, a loyal servant. It shows determination and willing engagement.
The Tories say that this should be commended, and apparently that you can only prove a commitment by being married or being part of a civil partnership.
Interesting, eh!
It is such a shallow interpretation of the word, and that is before you get onto the Newspeak notions behind such a pledge. £150 isn’t exactly a lot of money. It is not going to be life changing, even for the most impoverished in our country. Sam and Courtney are not going to rush down to registry office for such a paltry amount of money. It would probably cost them about five times that much to get married in the first place.
What really riles me about this isn’t about the ‘reward’ for being committed, it is the suggestion that only these people can be committed, and by default, it is only these people who can be committed to anything.
I have friends that are not married, quite a few of them actually. Some of them are committed to bachelordom, some are committed to their work, and others are committed to having a fucking good time, knobbing anything in trousers, preferably with their hands tied behind their back. Others are committed to making the world a better place. I’ve known people who have been in deeply committed relationships; monogamous to the last, only the commitment hasn’t lasted a lifetime. They’ve had a series of committed relationships, goof, honest, loving, caring, committed relationships.
I’m actually quite committed to my lover. Does that mean that I should get a doubling of the £150 if I can prove in some way that I am committed to him as well?
There are people I know who have lived together for years and have no intention of getting married. Are they less committed than the couple who have been married for five years and have never had a week without argument, disagreement and continue to have a complete lack of concern for their spouse?
You cannot go around using such words with such flippant disregard for their meaning. I know that some might say that I am being pedantic but I don’t think I am.
Language is so vital and believe me, the Tories HQ would not have allowed that word to be used without considering it very carefully.
There is also the complacent belief that once someone has made a commitment in marriage or in civil partnership that this is the end deal. Has Cameron considered that? Is “commitment” the be all and end all of life”? What does commitment actually prove? How committed is committed or is commitment, as interpreted here, merely a societal conformity. What he is actually saying is that he wants to reward people for committing to “normality”.
Companionship, on the other hand, is something else. In companionship, I feel that there is a commitment that goes beyond the signing of papers or the overt demonstration of togetherness. If Cameron really wants to reward something that would actually make a difference to society, he should look at people who have the ability to be good companions, those who are “committed” to the wellbeing of others and show how they can empathise and understand the needs of others as well as themselves.
Cameron should look for the joy and the bliss of positive friendship as a means of stability. Here’s a vote winner – perhaps he should look at the number of “friends” people have on Facebook or the number of Twitter followers people have, and give them a tax break as this could be a sign of someone who is a good companion, who is interested in other people.
Of course, I am clearly talking bollocks. The number of friends of Facebook is probably more indicative of someone who is far from being a companion! It is probably a sign of an egotistical maniac who spends so long accruing friends on Facebook that they never actually leave the house to have a proper, collegiate conversation with another human being, or that the links with their so-called friends are so tenuous that they probably met some of them on a bus one day in 1989 in Swindon as they were passing through.
The point is that you cannot possibly measure companionship just as I am convinced that you cannot determine commitment in this crude and unfortunate way.
True commitment and real companionship defies the restrictions of definition and therefore it should not even be considered as something that can determine a tax break. It is as shallow as the people who suggest it in the first place.
Commitment cannot be measured by whether someone has a marriage certificate. Looking too deeply into the meaning of companionship is full of flaws too, if put into this sort of context.
Why is Zenpuss writing about such things?
Because they are important!
Sexual enlightenment is partly to do with freeing the mind. Part of sexual enlightenment is about enabling someone to acknowledge their true sexual self, and in order to do this, I do think it is important to look at language, to interpret and often re-interpret these words and to consider the significance of such words in their lives.
If you are to be truly enlightened, you have to consider what societal values are being pushed on you. I’ll get my money from Cameron if he is elected but it doesn’t mean that I am more committed to one relationship than another. It doesn’t mean that I am compliant and that I am going to conform to a certain way of living. My own sexual enlightenment has carried me some distance along the path, and for all the money that Cameron can throw my way, I cannot go against the real me any longer and just comply to a certain, fixed and stereotypical way of living.
Thursday 8 April 2010
A man walks down to the river, ready to collect his water for the day.
Upon reaching the river, he realises he has left his container at his house and has no vessel with which to collect the water.
He looks to the rushing stream and places two fingers within.
He licks his fingers and holds them gently in his mouth, pausing to savour.
Zenpuss has been thinking. Not Zazenpuss then, just Zenpuss.
Zenpuss is trying to consider what being a Zen Puss is really all about. It is uncomplicated and unconscious at the same time as being complex and convoluted. It is all things and it is nothing. It is the self and it is about others. There is no answer and yet the answer is there for all to see.
Being at one with ourselves and considering the oneness of others has to be a path to Enlightenment. I am almost fearful of using quotes from the great masters to justify my purpose because I feel far too inept to do them justice. I am humbled by the expression and thoughtfulness of others and I do not want to demean their words in any way. However, there is so much to learn about sexual enlightenment through what is written about enlightenment itself, and therefore is probably worth commentary.
And yet, I am still concerned by the fact that one of the Five Worldly Desires is a desire for sex, and this is not necessarily seen as a positive thing.
Perhaps sex in itself is fine and that an enlightened sexuality transcends desire. For now, that is how I am approaching this.
I was going to apologise to regular readers, if there are any, for this writing not being full of sexual innuendos and sauciness but I shall not. Part of being Zenpuss is to excite, arouse, fascinate as a means of bringing out the readers’ essence of sexuality. I aim to stimulate in order that you, the reader, gets a greater understanding of your own sexuality. However, Zenpuss also aims to bring sexual enlightenment and reasoning to others, though the reasoning is not a necessary element unless it helps one to simply be.
I cannot have a name like Zenpuss without thinking about the first syllable in greater detail. So today’s writing is about Zen, about what it could mean as far as sexuality and how that sexuality may bring an aspect of enlightenment that is not yet realised.
Zen is a lifetime of training. It has no end. Even the enlightened continue to practice. They do not sit in defiant harmony once Enlightenment has been achieved.
Just so with sexuality. Even those who feel that they have had a life fulfilled by wonderful sexual experiences still have plenty to learn about the completeness of sex and the oneness with another, and indeed themselves. Nothing is unattainable. Nothing is reached, and yet in the simplicity and complexity of sex, one can glimpse the Satori; the absolute expression of the enlightened.
Sex, of course, is a very personal thing and subconsciously or consciously we build a picture in our mind of right and wrong. Sex is penetrative sex only. Sex is liberating. Homosexuality is wrong. Making love brings harmony. Exploring your own body is frowned upon. Sex is monogamous. Sex is functionary. Masturbation is the best way to achieve orgasm.
The list is ceaseless. Where we have attained these preconceived ideas about sex and sexuality is sometimes a mystery. Whichever way they entered our consciousness though, they are present.
I recently read a commentary about Zen where it stated, “It is not easy to brush away the delusions that cloud emancipating truth”. Our society is full to the brim of delusions about sex and sexuality. There are rules and responsibilities. There are conditional rights and wrongs. There is a distinct lack of liberty. In order to truly understand our own sexuality we must free ourselves from the imposed and the self-developed misconceptions about what is sexuality, recognising that sexuality has to be something that is very personal and individualistic. What is understood as sexual peaks by some is only half way up the mountain for others. What is patently immoral to one is the only way to enlightenment for another.
Being sexually enlightened has to involve brushing away these delusions and preconceptions. Being sexually liberated means freeing oneself from all that knowledge and thought, and simply be at one with your sexual being.
Let’s consider the Three Treasures of Buddhism as a starting point. Again, I do make a slight apology to the greatness of the Buddha’s if they feel offended at my usage but there is no intention of abuse. I am merely using these ideas and words to convey the meaning of enlightenment in a sexual way.
The Buddha is the one who realises.
The Dharma is what is realised.
The Sangha is the harmony of realisation and practice.
I’m not professing to be a Buddha. That is way beyond me for now. The Buddha in this case is you; the person who realises that there is a need and a want for sexual enlightenment. In that case, it could be me, it could be you.
The Dharma, as far as sexual enlightenment is concerned is what is realised; the release from the delusions, the stimulation and serenity of sexual fulfilment, the actualisation of sexual harmony.
The Sangha is the coming together of mind and body in understanding what sex is and can be and doing something about it.
I have been awakened from my dormant state. I have realised what I want and what I need. I have enjoyed the essence of my sexual being and I am in total harmony and in complete peace when I have the opportunity to practice and further continue my realisation.
Here’s another quote. “We can learn to live together in a way that leads to the realisation of everyone’s true nature not only on an individual level but also as a community, as a Sangha”.
Not exactly justification for swingers but there is an essence of sharing that should not be lost. Sexuality is about the individual but it is also about the collective. It is about two people coming together in a way that is utterly unique amongst living things. Other animals have sex. From what we know, they act instinctively. As humans, we have been blessed with the capacity to have sex beyond the animalistic instinct. We can think sex, we can realise it in a completely different way by engaging the mind and transforming ourselves through the collective spirit and the one spirit. The realisation of one’s own sexuality is vital. In order to set aside the delusions of a communal thought on sexuality, it needs each of those who are either sexually enlightened or on a pathway to speak the truth thus realising the true nature of sexuality.
Zen considers some extremely important aspects of life that could also be seen in a sexual way.
Zen practice is about how “we wish to properly appreciate what we already have, what is inherent within us”.
Society and the expectations or delusions of it, sometimes ignore the inherent nature of our sexuality. Our sexuality is there. It is ever present but we frequently disregard its significance and its vitality. The capacity for good sex, fulfilling sex, enduring sex is within us all but other factors get in the way. The essence of our being is present and within that essence is our sexuality. So why do we go to such great lengths to hide it, cover it, pretend that the sexual mind is not as significant as other intellectual thoughts or the mundane necessities of life? To some, sex is a necessity of life and yet we still deny it.
Being naughty, Zenpuss is thinking on a practical level here. Not everyone can get the type of sex that they want at the time that they want it. I know I can’t but there is a physical nature to be explored here.
“What is inherent within us”. We all have our own bodies; we all have the capacity to be sexual. If there is not an opportunity to share this sexuality, then maybe we should consider exploring ourselves. Masturbation is largely ignored because it is deemed to be unacceptable behaviour. If you are this quoted phrase at a pedantic, face-value, is there not a possibility that self-exploration of what is within oneself is a step in the right direction?
“True nature” is the Buddhist way. True nature is in itself the “original self”.
In an essay by Taizen Maezumi, a question is posed. Can everyone realise true nature?
The answer to that is obviously a resounding yes. Every person, irrespective of intellectual capacity can realise and recognise the “original self”. Zenpuss is suggesting that in order to do this, one should also consider one’s sexual self, for it is there, inherent, from the beginning. “We will not be satisfied until we realise what we have” says Maezumi, and that is exactly so with sexuality. How can we express ourselves sexually if we do not know ourselves as sexual beings? How can we expect others to understand our sexuality if we do not recognise it ourselves?
The original self requires a certain amount of insular behaviour. One has to look inwardly in order to understand one’s true nature. In doing that, one is ready to take one’s self into the reaches of others. There is no end to this search for the original self. It should be perpetual. It should fluctuate but it is vital to recognise that it is already there.
Dogen Zenji stated that we should “practice the Way with wholeheartedness” or “to become one with whatever you do”. Maezumi interprets this with the following statement.
“When you really become one with whatever you do, that is the realisation of the Way; yet whether you realise your true nature or not depends on you.”
Exactly so.
Just as it is with the complete Way, then so too is it with the sexual Way. It is dependent on all of us to find our sexual Way and to realise the inherent true nature that is already in existence. Pretending we are something that we are not is definitely not the Way. The purpose of Zen practice is not to become something different to what we actually are. “If we dig in the wrong place, regardless of how diligently we try, it is in vain”, says one commentator.
You cannot be what you are inherently not. You cannot have a sexual awakening if there isn’t something there in the first place. It should happen like osmosis; naturally and yet the realisation can be like a flash of lightening. Each and every one of us has the capacity to realise this essential essence from within but to try and be something else is not the way forward.
Many years ago, I did not touch myself. I did not explore my own body and I did not consider having the sexual experiences that I currently have. My delusions about sexuality were developed from somewhere but they were not those that were inherently within me. What I have experienced in recent years has been this awakening of my natural state – my original self. Had I pretended to be something different, had I tried to please a lover with practice beyond what I considered to be right for me, I would have been filled with disappointment, anxiety and even shame. On the contrary, I have been enlightened not by a sexual act but by my propensity to feel at ease and natural with whatever sexual act I can indulge myself and others in.
My ability to ejaculate, for instance, was always there. It didn’t just emerge one night in the front of my car with a capable finger or two being inserted into my pussy. It was always there. I just hadn’t freed my mind to its potential. My lover asking me to fist myself was not a problem. I was not trying to please him with some outlandish practice that went against the core of what was me. I just hadn’t enabled such thoughts and such practices to materialise. Now, I was given an opportunity to realise what I actually was – my original sexual self. That is why I am indebted to the person. That cannot be forgotten but I am indebted to myself also for allowing this enablement to happen.
Dogen Zenji talks about Zen practice as being like a spiral comprising of four strands; raising the Bodhi mind, practicing, attaining realisation and attaining liberation. In liberation lies the Bodhi mind, the mind that aspires to enlightenment, which leads us to practice, then attainment, then liberation, spiralling ever upward. I paraphrase Zenji via a commentator but it is important to realise that there is a possibility that Enlightenment in this way is infinite. Having achieved enlightenment the path may not end. The spiral reaches further, the practice can increase and grow. It can branch forth in different directions whilst maintaining a pathway as it does.
So too with sexuality.
There have been times when I have thought I had reached the peak of my sexuality and sexual practice and experience. I have mentioned this before in these blogs. I have lain in bed thinking that it is impossible to improve upon this. It cannot get any better than being completely at one with your lover; where words are insignificant and cannot possibly encapsulate all that has been experienced. There have been times when I have been literally fucked to pieces and that my mind as well as my body can take no more of this perfection. Then returning to bed or to sex a mere day or two later, something happens that escalates the experience once more. The pinnacle was reached and yet the spiral continues. There is more even if the practice has constancy.
I suppose a lot of this is the experience of the now. What was deemed to be perfect yesterday was perfect for yesterday. There may be almost 100% adherence to the practice of yesterday and today, yet today it feels nearer perfect than yesterday without the need for that crude comparison. Because actually, yesterday was perfect too, only a different perfect than today.
That’s what I love about Zen; an abandonment of logic yet perfect logic at the same time. It does work if you think about it.
Liberation is another word that is frequently batted around almost flippantly disregarding its extent. Zetsu gaku means being liberated. “Honour the man who is through with learning and free from action” – the one who has “right liberation” and “right wisdom”.
I’m not ready to be liberated from learning yet. There is a vast world of the undiscovered for me but I understand the thought behind this.
Knowledge and understanding, thoughts and feelings can be liberating yet at the same time they can thwart the path to finding one’s true self. To have no need for more learning yet to want to continue is something completely different. To desire no action yet still indulge in the odd activity or two is also commendable. There is a liberation in Zazen.
What does this mean in a sexual way?
When looking at the sixties, people often use the phrase “sexual liberation” but did that really capture it in its totality? The delusions were still there as they are now. I wasn’t there so I cannot speak from experience but I wonder whether people confuse liberty and inhibitions. The loss of the latter can lead to the former but not necessarily. They are different.
In the sixties, people certainly lost some of their inhibitions about sexuality and felt the freedom to physically engage in wonderful, experiential sex, and for some that would lead to liberation but not for everyone. Some were still tied by conformity and expectation. The fact that this uninhibited and liberated sex did not become the ‘norm’ suggests that there is still work to be done to liberate us all from the shackles of preconceived notions of sexuality.
Consider this.
“The Law of Causation applies to everybody.......Within limitation, there is always freedom. Regardless of where you go or what you do, in one way or another life is restricted. Don’t look to circumstances or environment for your freedom. You won’t find it. You can always find freedom within limitation”.
And consider this too.
“Emancipating the mind, even the fire becomes cool”.
And finally, this.
“We try to understand enlightenment by our discriminative mind; yet our discriminative, our discursive thought, is the very thing that binds us.”
There is a dichotomy at work here. In order to liberate ourselves we have to think. The ability to think can make the impossible possible, like the fire being cool but as we think, we somehow tangle ourselves up once more and the liberation that we are seeking is lost in the discriminative mind.
People desire liberty. It is an age old aspiration and yet there is a possibility that we are looking in the wrong places. Indeed, even looking in itself could prevent us from being free.
Sexuality is one way of looking for freedom. Sexual freedom is one way of being liberated.
“We can be bound by enlightenment, freedom, even peace, in which case there is actually no enlightenment, freedom or peace”.
For me, there is freedom within limitation and one way that I seek this freedom is through my sexual liberation. I do not have a secret life. I have my life. I do not hold to conventions yet I live in one.
The way to liberty is to feel it, in the right places. Sexual liberty is all about finding yourself and your desires, being true to yourself above and beyond the expectations and constraints of others.
Should I allow my partner to have sex with another person? What is this ‘allow’? There is no ‘allow’ in sexual liberation. The ‘allowance’ is not present. Having sex with another person should not detract from the sex and the intensity of a relationship with your loved one. In order to liberate yourselves you should liberate others. Nobody should be tied down, expected to behave in a certain way. If the liberation is attachment for some, then so be it but where it isn’t the Way, then that should also be recognised.
True sexual liberation is hard. To be completely at one with your sexuality may even seem contradictory when so much of our sexual lives is bound to other human beings; their feelings, thoughts and emotions. If you are living a life as the Zen way suggests, you should be more than mindful of the needs and wants of others even if that sometimes feels as though it is going against your natural beliefs, even if it feels as though it is shackling your freedom.
Dogen Zenji says that only the foolish think concern for others is at one’s own expense.
This brings me to my final point of the day; the respect of others.
My own sexuality is bound up in the sexuality of others. In some ways my raison d’etre is to please others sexually. In doing so I reach a pinnacle of my own sexuality. Concern for others is my sexuality. It does not detract from it at all. It enhances it every time. Seeing the look on my lover’s face when I am pleasuring myself is far more wondrous than the climax I can give myself.
“To think of others first, we do something for them; then, in one way or another, sooner or later, it benefits ourselves”.
The bodhisattva is to care more about others than oneself.
If we are ultimately to find our true self, we have to do it with the consideration of others in mind. Sometimes the consideration for one person conflicts with the consideration for another, and that is a quandary too but being sexually enlightened has to involve the needs of others and the willingness to desire what others want too. Sometimes, of course, the conflict is with the desire of others and what you actually want. Sometimes, what one person might consider to be selfish action is actually helping them along their pathway.
As I said, therein is the joy of the yin and yang of life, and indeed sexuality.
Ultimately, what is the Way? It’s “anuttara samyak sambohi” – the best way, the unsurpassable way, the perfect wisdom. It is our life itself.
In order to be sexually enlightened we have to embrace our sexuality as part of life itself. In doing so we may catch a glimpse of one’s true self.
The man rests a while to sit.
Satisfied, he returns home with all the water that he requires.
Saturday 3 April 2010
A Sexual Yin and Yang
It wasn’t that she didn’t like sex; she just didn’t like sex with him.
For years she had thought that she was somewhat frigid, that her libido was shattered, that she didn’t function sexually. She had thought that she didn’t need sex, that she didn’t actually enjoy sex and couldn’t really understand what all the fuss was about.
A friend had told her that when she got married, the amount of sex would reduce. She was almost relieved to hear that. She was indifferent to sex and could quite contentedly live without it.
Another friend told her how she and her partner revitalised their sex by watching porn movies together but she couldn’t really see the point. If she didn’t enjoy sex, what possible purpose would there be in watching other people have sex?
She stoically continued to have sex but it was a duty rather than a pleasure. It was mundane, immature sex. It was bland and characterless. It was dry and empty but she didn’t necessarily know that at the time.
It had its purpose. Being the good church-going person that she was, sex was now about procreation. The only point to sex was now procreation. It was a means to an end, and once conception had taken place, it seemed a beautiful excuse to exempt herself from sex for the duration of the pregnancy. He didn’t seem to object to this. He never once attempted to fuck her whilst she was carrying his children.
And years later, it was still the same.
The kiss first thing in the morning, not a gentle kiss, not an aggressive one, just a signal that he was aroused. Not on the mouth, but on the cheek. If it was on the mouth it was brief and certainly not tongues. That was her decision, not his. The kisses were pretty crap. They were sloppy and ill-considered. They didn’t feel good. It wasn’t his fault, he just wasn’t very good at kissing, and she had never felt aroused by his kissing. It had never been the prerequisite to full, penetrative sex.
Or maybe it had been. Maybe she should have paid attention to the kiss many years before. Maybe the kiss is an indication of what the sex might be like. She’d never thought about that. Are good kissers automatically good lovers?
And so it went on. The kiss followed by a movement of the hand. The insipid tracing of the body, first towards the breasts, rubbing them, avoiding the nipple, then just fingering it, followed by an attempt to kiss it.
For some insane reason, he thought that blowing was good. He blew his breath on her tits, almost as though attempting to anaesthetise them before he took it in his mouth. It left her shuddering and finding his kissing them unwelcome. Once kissed, the boobs were then fondled, grabbed whilst the kisses moved towards the neck, to the alleged sensual area around the base of the ear. It didn’t sensitise her.
And then the hand would wander towards her cunt.
A single digit was inserted, first quite gently. Then it would move around, just once to check the moistness. And then it would just go in and out and in and out, ridiculously quickly, as though the speed of this single digit being inserted would be the key to a pleasurable experience.
There was no exploration of her cunt, no attempt to see if there was any effect of this finger rogering, just some innate perception that it was this that made women cum.
Only it didn’t. It was more like an endurance test than an arousal method.
And then he’d go down on her, and do that dreadful blowing thing again, only this time on her pubes, and then he would dive his tongue inside her with that rapid action once more.
And then the cock would go in. Just as the finger and tongue had before; quick motions, done for one purpose only, to get him to orgasm.
Thankfully, it never lasted too long. It was over in less than a minute on most occasions, and once he had climaxed, she could extract him from her body and relax post-coitally as she knew she should.
And that was that. And this is that. Once a week, once a month, often less than that at certain times of her life.
If this was what sex was going to be like for the rest of her life, is it any wonder that she was disinterested and reluctant?
She’d tried other things occasionally. She didn’t always lie there like a zombie. She’d read books, she’d seen the odd soft porn imagery, she had her instinct in tact.
She held his cock and rubbed it. She often gave him a blow job and held his balls in her hand but it was more out of a desire to arouse him than doing anything for her. She didn’t actually like it. Still doesn’t.
She climbed on top of him when he’d finished blowing on her cunt and had ridden him so that at the very least her clitoris could be sensitised but none of it made any difference really.
She never came.
Of course she did cum, when it was just her lying in bed.
She’d always had the propensity to fantasise, and the fantasies led to masturbation, but only of the clitoris, and often without her fingers going anywhere near her sexual organs.
It was an immature wank but effective.
She’d learned at a relatively early age how to get herself to orgasm. She would stuff a pillow or a discarded piece of clothing between her legs, and she would press down hard. Then she would release herself from the pressure and return it instantaneously. After four or five of these pressure visits, she would feel the orgasm rising, until eventually her whole body was rigid in its effort to cum. As the orgasm took over, she would tense up to feel its complete effect and then she would flop down, remove the pillow and simply enjoy the sensuality that she had provided for herself.
But the sensuality and the orgasms always came this way. It never entered her mind to push her own fingers into her cunt. It had never done anything for her when he did it, so why would fingering herself have the desired effect. Anyway, wasn’t a vaginal orgasm just an urban myth?
The pillow fucks were sometimes done without thought in mind, but the best self-fucks were the ones when she was thinking about others; not usually people she knew, though there were times when friends came to mind. They were mainly about people that she didn’t know, people that she had seen on the television; actors, sportsmen, even news anchormen!
The chosen object of fantasy usually lasted for some months. Some of them lasted for years; the same person at the centre of her wanking.
By this time though, she had convinced herself that sex wasn’t an important part of her life, almost turning a blind eye to this masturbation methodology. That wasn’t real sex. She didn’t equate that to her sexuality. She didn’t see it for what it was; the replacement, the necessity to keep her sexually alive.
It wasn’t as if she didn’t love him. She did. They had many pleasurable moments. She used to enjoy lying there after he was satisfied, revelling in his bliss that became part of hers.
Like a dutiful wife, she had reverted to the decades before her existence, and had pleasured him and that was the most important thing. In some ludicrous assimilation to self-sacrifice, his sexuality was far more important than hers. Whatever her needs were supposed to be, they were insignificant and by this time, she had convinced herself that she basically had a very low libido, almost to the point of non-existence. Even when friends explained the quantity and quality of their own sexual lives, she dismissed it as being fine for them but it wasn’t something that was important to her. She was content and that was all that mattered. The fact that she could not be aroused by another human being was just part of her life and she didn’t mourn or grieve for her sexuality. It was just the way things were. It is just the way things are.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………
Can you possibly understand what this is like? Have you got any idea how bloody difficult it is to have sex in this way? Try as she might, with all the potential of her imagination, she cannot enjoy it. There are times when she literally grits her teeth because it is unbearable to experience this inadequacy. She’s thought it over and over. She’s considered pretending that there is another person fucking her, but that doesn’t work, and she doesn’t want to soil memories of others with this blandness. She’s thought that as a sexual woman, she should be able to enjoy rather than endure any form of sex. Surely having bad sex is better than having no sex at all?
Absolutely not!
Bad sex makes the desire for good sex even more alluring. Bad sex makes the body and the soul want to scream in annoyance. Bad sex is not worth the bother other than to keep up appearances.
And she has tried to make it better. She has tried to bring her memories and experiences of others to the marital bed but it just doesn’t work.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………
It wasn’t that she loved sex; she just loved having sex with him.
For years she had thought that she was somewhat frigid, that her libido was shattered, that she didn’t function sexually. She had thought that she didn’t need sex, that she didn’t actually enjoy sex and couldn’t really understand what all the fuss was about.
And then she had been awakened from a very hideous dream.
It had started with the simplest of kisses, not even a sexual one; just a goodbye at the end of an evening, with a kiss on either cheek with the gentlest of touches on the elbow.
She’d driven away knowing that something was happening but it was suppressed deep down within her subconscious.
It continued months later with another kiss, only this time there was no disguising the sexuality of the moment. The burning sensation in her cunt at the moment where tongues collided made her realise that her libido was not redundant after all. There was some sexual life in her but maybe it was just the illegitimacy of the moment. Maybe it was just arousal at doing something that was indiscreet and would be frowned upon by others. Maybe the arousal was just some sort of rebellion.
But her libido had been awoken and it was now at the forefront of her mind.
In the instances when he kissed her, she could feel it throbbing between her legs. At the moment that he placed his hand on her breast for the first time, she realised that she would readily invite another touch, not shield his hand away in the hope that he would move and recognise her discomfort from being touched in that area. There was no discomfort. For the first time in her life, she wanted to have her tits fondled. She wanted him to tweak her nipples and arouse them from their flatbed.
When he first placed his fingers inside her, he must have assumed that she was an extremely libidinous woman. Her labia were dripping with anticipation; her cunt was erect in an instant. He must have thought that this was a woman who knew how to invite pleasure into her pussy, that her wetness symbolised the fact that she was a deeply sexual woman, who knew what she wanted and how she was going to get it.
When he first placed his fingers inside her, he didn’t stab at her. He explored every nook and cranny of her. He pushed through the initial folds, he tickled the inner labia. He swept his finger gently over every section of her before reaching in further to the hibernating G-Spot, where he accurately exerted just the right amount of pressure without force or over-exertion.
She came in an instant, surprising herself at the droplets of cum that seemed to burst forth.
She tried to disguise her surprise but he had already seen it, even in the darkness, even without looking at her astonished face.
And then they had more sex, penetrative sex, expected and desired by both of them.
They’d waited for a long time. The anticipation had been huge in time as well as thought.
It was worth the wait.
At the moment of penetration, she was catapulted into another world; a world that was to be her secret, their secret for many years. It was a world of passion and sexual excitement that she had no idea she was capable of experiencing.
He must have thought that initial sex was pretty bland. She was stunned and it must have come across in her actions or inactions.
She was mesmerised into a hypnotic state. She had had her mind as well as her body blown to smithereens, and poor him; he’d just had sex with a woman that he cared for, a woman that he had found attractive and had got to know – but the sex can’t have been that alluring.
It had started with a kiss. He’d lain her down on the settee as he crouched on the floor beside her. He’d reached his arm over to her face and had folded his palm across her face as he kissed her sweetly, and then he had opened her mouth to glide his tongue inside as hers moulded into his.
He’d rapidly undressed himself, down to his white knickers that erupted with his hardness. She noticed the darkened patch where his lubricant had seeped from his cock. There were no inhibitions in him letting her see his excitement.
He removed her skirt and unfastened her blouse. He grabbed her tits whilst continually kissing her with a passion unknown. He lifted her breasts from their hiding place and brushed her nipples, exacting his fingers to its point without tugging, without pressure.
Without realising, it was he that was now lying on the settee with her straddling herself above him.
He’d removed her panties and was now fingering her cunt as she knelt over him with a rigid back, enjoying the exploration. She gushed an extensive amount of liquid from her body, concerned that she had just pissed over him, shying away in the depths of her inhibitions.
He said nothing, just appreciated her cum without words.
He moved her away and pulled the cushions to the floor. He stripped himself from his pants and lay her down, moving her legs aside so that he could look at the cunt that he had fingered for so many months. In the light of day, he could see her pink anticipation as he clamoured into the waiting condom.
He slid inside her. She was astonished that such a big cock could reach inside her almost unnoticed. As soon as she realised that he was within her, her body shook at the wonderment.
It had been a long wait.
Covered in rubbery revoltingness, he didn’t cum inside her. He just fucked her perfectly until she had her own orgasm. Through her cum, he continued to fuck her until he needed to cum himself.
He removed the condom and rubbed her cunt. He continued to kiss her as he grabbed his cock and it was fairly soon that he was shooting his stuff on the floor between them.
It was over a year before they discarded the condoms. What was the point in them, apart from the obvious? She’d never wanted him to wear them in the first place. It was his insistence. She was far too flighty to worry about the health risks of not having them.
When he suggested that they could have sex without them, she was astonished and delighted. She wanted to really feel his cock in direct contact with her cunt. She wanted their flesh to rub together, to arouse one another, to belong in one another.
The moment they connected she came. Her mind was insistent upon that.
It was a few months later that she decided that another form of contraception was required. She wanted to feel his spunk inside her. She wanted him to have the ultimate experience with her; that ability to relax completely without worry of escaping sperm.
He spunked in her gloriously, and she loved to feel inside herself to savour that gloriously gel-like texture. She still loves to feel his spunk inside her.
To have the opportunity to cum together was mind-blowing. That he clearly cared for her and that she reciprocated was enough for her. She no longer wanted to be the best or the priority or indeed the only one that he fucked. She just wanted to experience this sex as often and for as long as possible.
She grew in her sexuality. She experienced new things. She explored her body and her sexual mind with him and without.
She loves her sexuality now. She loves feeling horny and urgent. She loves expressing her sexuality in kisses and hugs, in words and in talking, in unspoken moments and in demands for a fuck.
She loves the fact that she has become this spunky woman who can spray her cum out of her cunt, soaking his torso or his balls dependant on where he is when she orgasms.
She loves to finger herself, even fist herself with him looking on. She loves to wank and watch him wank too, seeing his fucking, enormous cock extend itself almost in time with every additional finger that she pushes into her own body. She loves to extract her fist from her cunt so that he can see the gaping hole and the erection within her as she anticipates his cock.
She loves it when he climbs on top of her and directs his cock to the very places that either he or she have just been fingering, knowing that this collision is going to create the cataract effect that both of them know is imminent.
She wants more and in wanting more, she wants it for him as much as herself. She loves to extend her sexuality. She loves to excite him with her fascination in other women’s bodies. She loves looking at excited cunts and the curvature of an enticing pair of tits. She loves watching another woman’s arousal; at her fingering herself. She adores seeing other women take cocks into their cunts and their mouths, devouring it as she devours his.
She adores watching him piss and his adoration in watching her piss. She loves having sex lying down in bed or riding his cock. She loves having her panties removed in urgent desire in the middle of the day, in the middle of the kitchen.
She loves being fucked in places that she’d never considered before because she had never considered the urgency of sex.
She wants him to explore her body more. She wants him to want her. She wants him to want to finger her elsewhere. She wants to let other people watch them fuck and get aroused themselves and then she wants to watch them being aroused, and hopefully them fucking one another.
And she wants to lie in bed with him, making love, loving one another with all the subtlety and sensation of being together, gently, carefully, intimately.
And she has had to ask herself whether she loves sex or loves it with him, whether she loves him or whether she loves the sex.
She knows the answer to that and so does he.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………….
Can you possibly understand what this is like? Have you got any idea how bloody difficult it is not to have sex in this way?
Have you really got any comprehension of how life changing this has been, how fundamental the sexuality is, how the love of sex and the love of another is inseparable?
To contemplate the idea that any sex would compensate for the lack of this sex is incomprehensible. She can finger fuck herself and that is divine but it makes her want him more. She can have sex with others but it makes her long for this sex more.
She says she has a secret life. He says she has a secret life. Is it any wonder that she sometimes doesn’t want it to be secret? Shouldn’t it be down to people like her to educate the world by explaining what has happened to her? Shouldn’t others understand that this sort of sex doesn’t come along by physicality alone and that there are a multitude of reasons beyond the sexual togetherness that makes this happen?
Should she have to have bad sex because she cannot have the good sex that she wants and needs?
Absolutely not!
And yet, this has to be.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………….
It wasn’t that she loved sex or was indifferent to sex; she didn’t know whether her love of sex was wholly linked to her love for him.
For years she had thought that she was somewhat frigid, that her libido was shattered, that she didn’t function sexually. She had thought that she didn’t need sex, that she didn’t actually enjoy sex and couldn’t really understand what all the fuss was about.
He’d eradicated that. He’d made her see sex for the significance that it was. He’d enabled her to embrace her sexuality, explore its depths, untie its enforced societal and personal boundaries. He’d opened her mind and her soul. He’d released a sexual spirituality that had either been dormant or hadn’t previously existed.
He’d played his part in creating this reformed and regenerated woman.
She doesn’t mean to be alarming or antagonistic in saying that she is unsure of whether this newfound sexual excitement is related to her feelings for him. She is genuinely fascinated by this question in a non-attached way.
This is why she would consider having sex with another person; which is why she wanted to have sex with another woman. Then of course, he was involved in that too and she knows that part of that was all about exciting him.
She still wants to have sex with another woman. She would love to share sex with him and another woman. She would delight in seeing him sexually aroused by another pair of tits and another cunt to be stimulated by. She even thinks he needs to have another cunt, with or without her being present, only she’d prefer it if she was involved too, or at the least if he would share his experiences with her.
She doesn’t want or need to have sex with anyone else. Why would she? According to her, she has the pinnacle of sex with him. Yet she is intrigued as to whether she could enjoy sex with someone else, whether sex in itself is something that she rather likes.
She experiences bad sex which in some ways reiterates the belief that sex in itself, as its own force is not what she wants. When she has been without his sex, she cannot just have sex and feel in any way appeased or placated. If anything, the other sex leads to greater frustration at not having the sex that she wants, that they both want.
And yet, the idea of having sex with another person, without the emotional attachments and the strength of absolute intimacy, is a prospect that she feels she ought to consider.
She wrote recently about the fact that when people separate, they should be mindful of the fact that they are missing the sex as much as they are missing the person. It might even be that they are missing the sex more than they are missing the person, or that they are missing the sex and don’t really miss the person at all.
Right now, that is not her experience and it doesn’t take a permanent separation to feel this. Even a week of separation can make one miss the person and with that, miss the sex too.
She wants to have sex with another person because she wants to further embrace her sexuality. She wants to have good old, uncomplicated sex to see if she actually likes being fucked.
But most importantly, right now, she wants this as part of a shared experience with him. She wants to be able to talk to him about it. She wants to be able to impart her thoughts. She actually wants him to be watching her have sex with another person almost as much as she wants to watch him having sex with another person.
In some ways, she doesn’t need to know. She already does know that she has become a sexualised woman who happily embraces her sexuality. She knows that she is aroused when she looks at porn sites. She knows that she is sexual because of this.
She knows that she enjoys a wank. She knows that she can write about sex and can feel the pressure of a bulging cunt without any specific provocation from him, well not directly at least.
She knows that she is a sexual being and that this sexuality is a fundamental need and desire in her life.
And because she knows, she wants to go further. She wants them to enjoy each other’s sexuality to its peak; a peak that changes and dances to a myriad of tunes, a peak that can be reached in the togetherness of sexuality and in the exploration of it individually.
He knows and she knows that sex is complicated, that sex is complicated specifically by the fact that it is not just a physical act, that a desire to fuck another is fraught with darkness and light. Accepting that and acknowledging it is extremely important.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………….
It wasn’t that she loved sex; she just loved having sex with him.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like sex; she just didn’t feel it was as good as it should be.
It wasn’t that she wanted sex with others; she just felt it could be enjoyable and it would open her mind and her sexuality, and it might………………………..
She doesn’t want to finish that sentence. She will do when the time is right.
For years she had thought that she was somewhat frigid, that her libido was shattered, that she didn’t function sexually. She had thought that she didn’t need sex, that she didn’t actually enjoy sex and couldn’t really understand what all the fuss was about.
She was wrong.
And now she knows.
For years she had thought that she was somewhat frigid, that her libido was shattered, that she didn’t function sexually. She had thought that she didn’t need sex, that she didn’t actually enjoy sex and couldn’t really understand what all the fuss was about.
A friend had told her that when she got married, the amount of sex would reduce. She was almost relieved to hear that. She was indifferent to sex and could quite contentedly live without it.
Another friend told her how she and her partner revitalised their sex by watching porn movies together but she couldn’t really see the point. If she didn’t enjoy sex, what possible purpose would there be in watching other people have sex?
She stoically continued to have sex but it was a duty rather than a pleasure. It was mundane, immature sex. It was bland and characterless. It was dry and empty but she didn’t necessarily know that at the time.
It had its purpose. Being the good church-going person that she was, sex was now about procreation. The only point to sex was now procreation. It was a means to an end, and once conception had taken place, it seemed a beautiful excuse to exempt herself from sex for the duration of the pregnancy. He didn’t seem to object to this. He never once attempted to fuck her whilst she was carrying his children.
And years later, it was still the same.
The kiss first thing in the morning, not a gentle kiss, not an aggressive one, just a signal that he was aroused. Not on the mouth, but on the cheek. If it was on the mouth it was brief and certainly not tongues. That was her decision, not his. The kisses were pretty crap. They were sloppy and ill-considered. They didn’t feel good. It wasn’t his fault, he just wasn’t very good at kissing, and she had never felt aroused by his kissing. It had never been the prerequisite to full, penetrative sex.
Or maybe it had been. Maybe she should have paid attention to the kiss many years before. Maybe the kiss is an indication of what the sex might be like. She’d never thought about that. Are good kissers automatically good lovers?
And so it went on. The kiss followed by a movement of the hand. The insipid tracing of the body, first towards the breasts, rubbing them, avoiding the nipple, then just fingering it, followed by an attempt to kiss it.
For some insane reason, he thought that blowing was good. He blew his breath on her tits, almost as though attempting to anaesthetise them before he took it in his mouth. It left her shuddering and finding his kissing them unwelcome. Once kissed, the boobs were then fondled, grabbed whilst the kisses moved towards the neck, to the alleged sensual area around the base of the ear. It didn’t sensitise her.
And then the hand would wander towards her cunt.
A single digit was inserted, first quite gently. Then it would move around, just once to check the moistness. And then it would just go in and out and in and out, ridiculously quickly, as though the speed of this single digit being inserted would be the key to a pleasurable experience.
There was no exploration of her cunt, no attempt to see if there was any effect of this finger rogering, just some innate perception that it was this that made women cum.
Only it didn’t. It was more like an endurance test than an arousal method.
And then he’d go down on her, and do that dreadful blowing thing again, only this time on her pubes, and then he would dive his tongue inside her with that rapid action once more.
And then the cock would go in. Just as the finger and tongue had before; quick motions, done for one purpose only, to get him to orgasm.
Thankfully, it never lasted too long. It was over in less than a minute on most occasions, and once he had climaxed, she could extract him from her body and relax post-coitally as she knew she should.
And that was that. And this is that. Once a week, once a month, often less than that at certain times of her life.
If this was what sex was going to be like for the rest of her life, is it any wonder that she was disinterested and reluctant?
She’d tried other things occasionally. She didn’t always lie there like a zombie. She’d read books, she’d seen the odd soft porn imagery, she had her instinct in tact.
She held his cock and rubbed it. She often gave him a blow job and held his balls in her hand but it was more out of a desire to arouse him than doing anything for her. She didn’t actually like it. Still doesn’t.
She climbed on top of him when he’d finished blowing on her cunt and had ridden him so that at the very least her clitoris could be sensitised but none of it made any difference really.
She never came.
Of course she did cum, when it was just her lying in bed.
She’d always had the propensity to fantasise, and the fantasies led to masturbation, but only of the clitoris, and often without her fingers going anywhere near her sexual organs.
It was an immature wank but effective.
She’d learned at a relatively early age how to get herself to orgasm. She would stuff a pillow or a discarded piece of clothing between her legs, and she would press down hard. Then she would release herself from the pressure and return it instantaneously. After four or five of these pressure visits, she would feel the orgasm rising, until eventually her whole body was rigid in its effort to cum. As the orgasm took over, she would tense up to feel its complete effect and then she would flop down, remove the pillow and simply enjoy the sensuality that she had provided for herself.
But the sensuality and the orgasms always came this way. It never entered her mind to push her own fingers into her cunt. It had never done anything for her when he did it, so why would fingering herself have the desired effect. Anyway, wasn’t a vaginal orgasm just an urban myth?
The pillow fucks were sometimes done without thought in mind, but the best self-fucks were the ones when she was thinking about others; not usually people she knew, though there were times when friends came to mind. They were mainly about people that she didn’t know, people that she had seen on the television; actors, sportsmen, even news anchormen!
The chosen object of fantasy usually lasted for some months. Some of them lasted for years; the same person at the centre of her wanking.
By this time though, she had convinced herself that sex wasn’t an important part of her life, almost turning a blind eye to this masturbation methodology. That wasn’t real sex. She didn’t equate that to her sexuality. She didn’t see it for what it was; the replacement, the necessity to keep her sexually alive.
It wasn’t as if she didn’t love him. She did. They had many pleasurable moments. She used to enjoy lying there after he was satisfied, revelling in his bliss that became part of hers.
Like a dutiful wife, she had reverted to the decades before her existence, and had pleasured him and that was the most important thing. In some ludicrous assimilation to self-sacrifice, his sexuality was far more important than hers. Whatever her needs were supposed to be, they were insignificant and by this time, she had convinced herself that she basically had a very low libido, almost to the point of non-existence. Even when friends explained the quantity and quality of their own sexual lives, she dismissed it as being fine for them but it wasn’t something that was important to her. She was content and that was all that mattered. The fact that she could not be aroused by another human being was just part of her life and she didn’t mourn or grieve for her sexuality. It was just the way things were. It is just the way things are.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………
Can you possibly understand what this is like? Have you got any idea how bloody difficult it is to have sex in this way? Try as she might, with all the potential of her imagination, she cannot enjoy it. There are times when she literally grits her teeth because it is unbearable to experience this inadequacy. She’s thought it over and over. She’s considered pretending that there is another person fucking her, but that doesn’t work, and she doesn’t want to soil memories of others with this blandness. She’s thought that as a sexual woman, she should be able to enjoy rather than endure any form of sex. Surely having bad sex is better than having no sex at all?
Absolutely not!
Bad sex makes the desire for good sex even more alluring. Bad sex makes the body and the soul want to scream in annoyance. Bad sex is not worth the bother other than to keep up appearances.
And she has tried to make it better. She has tried to bring her memories and experiences of others to the marital bed but it just doesn’t work.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………
It wasn’t that she loved sex; she just loved having sex with him.
For years she had thought that she was somewhat frigid, that her libido was shattered, that she didn’t function sexually. She had thought that she didn’t need sex, that she didn’t actually enjoy sex and couldn’t really understand what all the fuss was about.
And then she had been awakened from a very hideous dream.
It had started with the simplest of kisses, not even a sexual one; just a goodbye at the end of an evening, with a kiss on either cheek with the gentlest of touches on the elbow.
She’d driven away knowing that something was happening but it was suppressed deep down within her subconscious.
It continued months later with another kiss, only this time there was no disguising the sexuality of the moment. The burning sensation in her cunt at the moment where tongues collided made her realise that her libido was not redundant after all. There was some sexual life in her but maybe it was just the illegitimacy of the moment. Maybe it was just arousal at doing something that was indiscreet and would be frowned upon by others. Maybe the arousal was just some sort of rebellion.
But her libido had been awoken and it was now at the forefront of her mind.
In the instances when he kissed her, she could feel it throbbing between her legs. At the moment that he placed his hand on her breast for the first time, she realised that she would readily invite another touch, not shield his hand away in the hope that he would move and recognise her discomfort from being touched in that area. There was no discomfort. For the first time in her life, she wanted to have her tits fondled. She wanted him to tweak her nipples and arouse them from their flatbed.
When he first placed his fingers inside her, he must have assumed that she was an extremely libidinous woman. Her labia were dripping with anticipation; her cunt was erect in an instant. He must have thought that this was a woman who knew how to invite pleasure into her pussy, that her wetness symbolised the fact that she was a deeply sexual woman, who knew what she wanted and how she was going to get it.
When he first placed his fingers inside her, he didn’t stab at her. He explored every nook and cranny of her. He pushed through the initial folds, he tickled the inner labia. He swept his finger gently over every section of her before reaching in further to the hibernating G-Spot, where he accurately exerted just the right amount of pressure without force or over-exertion.
She came in an instant, surprising herself at the droplets of cum that seemed to burst forth.
She tried to disguise her surprise but he had already seen it, even in the darkness, even without looking at her astonished face.
And then they had more sex, penetrative sex, expected and desired by both of them.
They’d waited for a long time. The anticipation had been huge in time as well as thought.
It was worth the wait.
At the moment of penetration, she was catapulted into another world; a world that was to be her secret, their secret for many years. It was a world of passion and sexual excitement that she had no idea she was capable of experiencing.
He must have thought that initial sex was pretty bland. She was stunned and it must have come across in her actions or inactions.
She was mesmerised into a hypnotic state. She had had her mind as well as her body blown to smithereens, and poor him; he’d just had sex with a woman that he cared for, a woman that he had found attractive and had got to know – but the sex can’t have been that alluring.
It had started with a kiss. He’d lain her down on the settee as he crouched on the floor beside her. He’d reached his arm over to her face and had folded his palm across her face as he kissed her sweetly, and then he had opened her mouth to glide his tongue inside as hers moulded into his.
He’d rapidly undressed himself, down to his white knickers that erupted with his hardness. She noticed the darkened patch where his lubricant had seeped from his cock. There were no inhibitions in him letting her see his excitement.
He removed her skirt and unfastened her blouse. He grabbed her tits whilst continually kissing her with a passion unknown. He lifted her breasts from their hiding place and brushed her nipples, exacting his fingers to its point without tugging, without pressure.
Without realising, it was he that was now lying on the settee with her straddling herself above him.
He’d removed her panties and was now fingering her cunt as she knelt over him with a rigid back, enjoying the exploration. She gushed an extensive amount of liquid from her body, concerned that she had just pissed over him, shying away in the depths of her inhibitions.
He said nothing, just appreciated her cum without words.
He moved her away and pulled the cushions to the floor. He stripped himself from his pants and lay her down, moving her legs aside so that he could look at the cunt that he had fingered for so many months. In the light of day, he could see her pink anticipation as he clamoured into the waiting condom.
He slid inside her. She was astonished that such a big cock could reach inside her almost unnoticed. As soon as she realised that he was within her, her body shook at the wonderment.
It had been a long wait.
Covered in rubbery revoltingness, he didn’t cum inside her. He just fucked her perfectly until she had her own orgasm. Through her cum, he continued to fuck her until he needed to cum himself.
He removed the condom and rubbed her cunt. He continued to kiss her as he grabbed his cock and it was fairly soon that he was shooting his stuff on the floor between them.
It was over a year before they discarded the condoms. What was the point in them, apart from the obvious? She’d never wanted him to wear them in the first place. It was his insistence. She was far too flighty to worry about the health risks of not having them.
When he suggested that they could have sex without them, she was astonished and delighted. She wanted to really feel his cock in direct contact with her cunt. She wanted their flesh to rub together, to arouse one another, to belong in one another.
The moment they connected she came. Her mind was insistent upon that.
It was a few months later that she decided that another form of contraception was required. She wanted to feel his spunk inside her. She wanted him to have the ultimate experience with her; that ability to relax completely without worry of escaping sperm.
He spunked in her gloriously, and she loved to feel inside herself to savour that gloriously gel-like texture. She still loves to feel his spunk inside her.
To have the opportunity to cum together was mind-blowing. That he clearly cared for her and that she reciprocated was enough for her. She no longer wanted to be the best or the priority or indeed the only one that he fucked. She just wanted to experience this sex as often and for as long as possible.
She grew in her sexuality. She experienced new things. She explored her body and her sexual mind with him and without.
She loves her sexuality now. She loves feeling horny and urgent. She loves expressing her sexuality in kisses and hugs, in words and in talking, in unspoken moments and in demands for a fuck.
She loves the fact that she has become this spunky woman who can spray her cum out of her cunt, soaking his torso or his balls dependant on where he is when she orgasms.
She loves to finger herself, even fist herself with him looking on. She loves to wank and watch him wank too, seeing his fucking, enormous cock extend itself almost in time with every additional finger that she pushes into her own body. She loves to extract her fist from her cunt so that he can see the gaping hole and the erection within her as she anticipates his cock.
She loves it when he climbs on top of her and directs his cock to the very places that either he or she have just been fingering, knowing that this collision is going to create the cataract effect that both of them know is imminent.
She wants more and in wanting more, she wants it for him as much as herself. She loves to extend her sexuality. She loves to excite him with her fascination in other women’s bodies. She loves looking at excited cunts and the curvature of an enticing pair of tits. She loves watching another woman’s arousal; at her fingering herself. She adores seeing other women take cocks into their cunts and their mouths, devouring it as she devours his.
She adores watching him piss and his adoration in watching her piss. She loves having sex lying down in bed or riding his cock. She loves having her panties removed in urgent desire in the middle of the day, in the middle of the kitchen.
She loves being fucked in places that she’d never considered before because she had never considered the urgency of sex.
She wants him to explore her body more. She wants him to want her. She wants him to want to finger her elsewhere. She wants to let other people watch them fuck and get aroused themselves and then she wants to watch them being aroused, and hopefully them fucking one another.
And she wants to lie in bed with him, making love, loving one another with all the subtlety and sensation of being together, gently, carefully, intimately.
And she has had to ask herself whether she loves sex or loves it with him, whether she loves him or whether she loves the sex.
She knows the answer to that and so does he.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………….
Can you possibly understand what this is like? Have you got any idea how bloody difficult it is not to have sex in this way?
Have you really got any comprehension of how life changing this has been, how fundamental the sexuality is, how the love of sex and the love of another is inseparable?
To contemplate the idea that any sex would compensate for the lack of this sex is incomprehensible. She can finger fuck herself and that is divine but it makes her want him more. She can have sex with others but it makes her long for this sex more.
She says she has a secret life. He says she has a secret life. Is it any wonder that she sometimes doesn’t want it to be secret? Shouldn’t it be down to people like her to educate the world by explaining what has happened to her? Shouldn’t others understand that this sort of sex doesn’t come along by physicality alone and that there are a multitude of reasons beyond the sexual togetherness that makes this happen?
Should she have to have bad sex because she cannot have the good sex that she wants and needs?
Absolutely not!
And yet, this has to be.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………….
It wasn’t that she loved sex or was indifferent to sex; she didn’t know whether her love of sex was wholly linked to her love for him.
For years she had thought that she was somewhat frigid, that her libido was shattered, that she didn’t function sexually. She had thought that she didn’t need sex, that she didn’t actually enjoy sex and couldn’t really understand what all the fuss was about.
He’d eradicated that. He’d made her see sex for the significance that it was. He’d enabled her to embrace her sexuality, explore its depths, untie its enforced societal and personal boundaries. He’d opened her mind and her soul. He’d released a sexual spirituality that had either been dormant or hadn’t previously existed.
He’d played his part in creating this reformed and regenerated woman.
She doesn’t mean to be alarming or antagonistic in saying that she is unsure of whether this newfound sexual excitement is related to her feelings for him. She is genuinely fascinated by this question in a non-attached way.
This is why she would consider having sex with another person; which is why she wanted to have sex with another woman. Then of course, he was involved in that too and she knows that part of that was all about exciting him.
She still wants to have sex with another woman. She would love to share sex with him and another woman. She would delight in seeing him sexually aroused by another pair of tits and another cunt to be stimulated by. She even thinks he needs to have another cunt, with or without her being present, only she’d prefer it if she was involved too, or at the least if he would share his experiences with her.
She doesn’t want or need to have sex with anyone else. Why would she? According to her, she has the pinnacle of sex with him. Yet she is intrigued as to whether she could enjoy sex with someone else, whether sex in itself is something that she rather likes.
She experiences bad sex which in some ways reiterates the belief that sex in itself, as its own force is not what she wants. When she has been without his sex, she cannot just have sex and feel in any way appeased or placated. If anything, the other sex leads to greater frustration at not having the sex that she wants, that they both want.
And yet, the idea of having sex with another person, without the emotional attachments and the strength of absolute intimacy, is a prospect that she feels she ought to consider.
She wrote recently about the fact that when people separate, they should be mindful of the fact that they are missing the sex as much as they are missing the person. It might even be that they are missing the sex more than they are missing the person, or that they are missing the sex and don’t really miss the person at all.
Right now, that is not her experience and it doesn’t take a permanent separation to feel this. Even a week of separation can make one miss the person and with that, miss the sex too.
She wants to have sex with another person because she wants to further embrace her sexuality. She wants to have good old, uncomplicated sex to see if she actually likes being fucked.
But most importantly, right now, she wants this as part of a shared experience with him. She wants to be able to talk to him about it. She wants to be able to impart her thoughts. She actually wants him to be watching her have sex with another person almost as much as she wants to watch him having sex with another person.
In some ways, she doesn’t need to know. She already does know that she has become a sexualised woman who happily embraces her sexuality. She knows that she is aroused when she looks at porn sites. She knows that she is sexual because of this.
She knows that she enjoys a wank. She knows that she can write about sex and can feel the pressure of a bulging cunt without any specific provocation from him, well not directly at least.
She knows that she is a sexual being and that this sexuality is a fundamental need and desire in her life.
And because she knows, she wants to go further. She wants them to enjoy each other’s sexuality to its peak; a peak that changes and dances to a myriad of tunes, a peak that can be reached in the togetherness of sexuality and in the exploration of it individually.
He knows and she knows that sex is complicated, that sex is complicated specifically by the fact that it is not just a physical act, that a desire to fuck another is fraught with darkness and light. Accepting that and acknowledging it is extremely important.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………….
It wasn’t that she loved sex; she just loved having sex with him.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like sex; she just didn’t feel it was as good as it should be.
It wasn’t that she wanted sex with others; she just felt it could be enjoyable and it would open her mind and her sexuality, and it might………………………..
She doesn’t want to finish that sentence. She will do when the time is right.
For years she had thought that she was somewhat frigid, that her libido was shattered, that she didn’t function sexually. She had thought that she didn’t need sex, that she didn’t actually enjoy sex and couldn’t really understand what all the fuss was about.
She was wrong.
And now she knows.
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