Fancy a Fuck?

Fucking for the moment

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And this is why.

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

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

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

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

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

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