In Praise of Replacements

In Praise of Replacements

I’m looking at a photograph of a beautiful scene that I know so well. There are meandering fields and a few beautiful houses, scattered around a countryside hill. I want to dive straight into the photograph and walk once more in the fresh air that I know is on offer there.

Photographs are incredible. I adore taking photos. I love looking at photos; of places that I know, of places that I wish to visit, of people that I love, of people that have immensely beautiful bodies that I wouldn’t mind getting to know. Photographs tell of past times, of future meetings. They capture that single moment that you can never repeat despite the fact that identical photos will be taken by other people at other times that bear enormous similarity to the one you have. However, their photos might have different focal points to yours, even though they are essentially the same. There will possibly be different purpose in taking the photo and undoubtedly there will be a subtle difference in the feelings that occurred whilst the photograph was taken.

My lover says that I probably have enough photos of his cock. How could he possibly take another photo and it be different from the very many that I already have? In truth, it is different every time, because the arousal and excitement is in capturing the unique moment that it was taken and indeed received. Therefore, no two cock photos could be the same, even if he were to take the same image in the same position consecutively for a week.
I will never receive too many photos of him enjoying his sexuality knowing that it is prompting the enjoyment of my own. It is like a glorious and perpetual circle. His photograph gets me horny. On hearing of my horniness, he too gets aroused and so on and so forth.

Photographs are wonderful and I love taking them and viewing them but nothing can replace the whole gambit of senses as being there in the place whilst the photograph was been taken.
A photograph is a visual feast. It relies on memory and thought but there is not a real need for touch, for sound or smell. The memory isn’t particularly good at remembering and regenerating smell. Photographs scratch the surface but they have a vital role to play.

Of course, it just goes to show how utterly important it is for us to use all of our senses carefully, ensuring that as often as possible we combine them to provide the greatest impact to a situation or a place or a feeling or a passion.
Take the photo that I was talking about at the beginning. I can look at the photo and I feel delight at its beauty but when I am actually there, I can smell the greenery, the freshness of the fields. I can hear the wind rushing through the trees at the top of the hill. I can feel the warmth of this quintessential serenity of a typical almost stereotypical English country village. I can reach out and touch the gate to the meadow that opens up and allows me to squash through the mud to the top of the hill.
It all becomes more real. It allows me to be spiritually uplifted in a way that goes beyond the mere viewing of a photograph.

But the truth is that I am not in that place any longer and I am not going to be back there very soon. I rely on the replacement to keep me going, to allow my spirits to dance contentedly at the memory and the prospect of a return to the place at some point in life. Photographs have their purpose.

So thank goodness for dildos. I rammed mine up me like I’d not been fucked before yesterday. I was literally gagging for an orgasm having not had one for five days. It is not good for me to go so long without an orgasm. It is even less good for me to go so long without a damn good fuck from a real cock either but that is a different matter.
I miss certain things and certain people very much indeed so to that extent I am very grateful for my vibrator.

Like the photograph, it doesn’t really do the trick completely. It serves a purpose. It is the photograph compared with the reality of being at the bottom of that luscious hill.
It keeps me sane and semi satisfied as I wait once more for the time when I can be making love for real but it cannot replace human touch and human connectivity. It cannot replace that eye contact at that point of penetration nor can it embrace you, clutching at your boobs as you fall together in a bliss-induced slumber.
I really do understand why people have blow up dolls for a fuck but you’d need a pretty exceptional imagination to really get a dolly or a vibrator compensate for a real man or woman.

My vibrator is quite a good one; not costly but it has a delightful buzz about it. Usually, I lie on my back and just rub it over my clitoris, ensuring that I am totally relaxed. Once I have calmed myself down ready for a full blown orgasm, I move the dildo down towards my labia, tickling the sensitive entrance to my pussy.
I then turn onto my stomach and ride the vibrator in the way that I particularly like to ride cock. I moisten myself up with this action and the vibrator slips in and out of my cunt with delightful ease.
Just when I can feel the orgasm coming on, I push the machine hard onto my clitoris and feel the vibration doing its work. I then relax into the bliss of the climax and almost instantly wish my lover was with me to finish me off once and for all.

It does the trick. It is functional. It makes me cum.
But I am a woman who wants more. I can get more orgasms by switching the machine on again but I cannot get the delight of foreplay despite my little ritual described above. I cannot feel the warmth of another human being lying next to me. I cannot have someone whispering affectionate comments into my ear. Most importantly, I cannot give anything back and I really am massively turned on by giving as much as receiving. Giving is the biggest turn on ever. Seeing someone respond as you suck their cock or splash your cum over their balls automatically induces more desire and more need to fuck some more.
You don’t get all of that with a dildo, no matter how good it is but I praise the replacement out of necessity regardless.

All of this gratitude for the replacements has made me think of something else.
Is there a link between those who are highly libidinous and those who have other addictions? Does a smoker have a higher sex drive or someone who likes a little more alcohol than is good for them? Do chocolate addicts delight in opening their legs and receiving a good fuck?
Taking this further, do people who have passion for some obscure hobby also have a higher libido?
If the answer to this is yes and the passion or the habit is a perfectly healthy one, then fine. Accept the fact that you are a person who needs highs of sorts and just enjoy.

But what if you are eating too much or drinking too much or smoking too much? Is there a possibility that we could use sexual activity as a replacement?
When the borderline alcoholic is looking for a drink, might it not be a good idea to suggest that they have a wank instead? Every time a smoker who wishes to refrain from doing so fancies a cigarette, perhaps they could consider a self-fingering instead. When a person who is obsessed with something that is unhealthy, something that is upsetting their equilibrium, possibly having more sex is the answer.

I’d hate sex to be used totally for therapeutic purposes. Sex is far more important than that. Sex is possibly the most important thing in life if it is done properly, holistically, for the right reasons with the perfect ‘climax’. But it does make you think that sex and sexual behaviour could be a way of calming people who need calming and cravings that need to be curbed.

Replacements are never enough. Nicotine replacement serves a purpose but it is no substitute to the drag of a cigarette according to those who smoke. Alcohol-free wine is drinkable but it is not the same as the taste of the fermented grape. Wanking is wonderful and I would be the first to advocate such behaviour in absence and with your partner. Wanking does not have to be a solitary activity. Far from it, but it is good when the need arises.

Replacements are good and should be used effectively but nothing, nothing can ever replace the Satori of sex.
How I miss that right now.