Tuesday, October 25, 2005

Vicarious Ain't the Half of It

I want everybody's pants down, their things out in the open, and come on, people - I want to see that pleasure! Let me see those buns working and clenching, those hips rolling, those juices flowing and gurgling and gushing on out! Show me those funny orgasm faces where it looks like you're being tortured, but everybody knows you're just cumming to beat the band! Lemme hear those Ooooohs and Ahhhhhhs like we're all on the esplanade watching the fireworks! And if you're sitting there, reading this, and thinking, Yeah! Right!, then dare to believe that you can make your own pleasure happen, and it just might appear.

Aroused Girl in a comment here yesterday said, "...have been enjoying your lovely pictures and stories and living vicariously through you." That's the last thing I want - for anybody to live vicariously through me. I want to be an impetus, an inspiration, a swift kick in your pants if you need one. I want to be something sitting on your shoulder with a little pitchfork nudging you into action. I want to be your Diogenes walking before you with that lantern, not in search of an honest man, but in search of the sexual destiny that will bring you as many orgasms as you're good for, as often as you want them, in a loving, caring, emotional context. But, I don't want you sitting there wishing that my pleasures were yours when you could be out trying to make them happen to you.

I know all too well that circumstances, past choices, and vows often stand in the way of what we need the most. I know what it's like to be on the other side of the fence from the person you love with all your heart but whose agenda is entirely different from your own. I know the sting of hearing, "We don't have a problem. YOU have a problem. Deal with it!" I know how it feels to come away from the charade of making love crying rather than rejoicing because what was supposed to be so fulfilling was totally empty. And I know how a frank, open, no holes barred discussion with a compassionate doctor can make miracles happen. Big miracles of your Bing Crosby movie variety and not just minor coincidences posing as the miraculous. I know that making the time to do things that need to be done is far different than finding the time to tend to them. I know now, at almost age 50, that being in love is infinitely better than just loving. I know that I will never be stupid enough again to let being in love out of my grasp. For all I've come to know in the past three years about how sex ties into everything else in life in a major and necessary way, I don't know how to share this resultant joy in a way that's contagious rather than vicarious. But I want to.

All in all, I can offer only this - the ultimate thing I learned almost too late: Never give up on your dreams. Never forsake a belief in miracles. I was a perpetually ravenous horndog trapped in a bad sex marriage for 16 years with a woman I loved but for whom sex was right down there with scrubbing the toilet in terms of enjoyment. In fact, scrubbing the toilet was something that occasionally needed to be done, while sex wasn't. If I had thrown in the towel, I'd never have what I have now - the loving relationship - the wild monkey sex - the joy of knowing that sometimes the impossible becomes possible if you dare to reach for it.

(I might be entirely full of shit. But I mean well.)

I do know for certain, though, that Dee's areolas have always been a turn on to me. Here's one now making a silver dollar look a bit small in comparison.




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1 comment:

Biker & Teacher said...

Been there, done that - boring relationships that you stay in because it is all you have known or because it is just comfortable. To hell with being with people because they fit your life style, your career, your outward appearance.

Shed the inhibitions of propriety, spread your wings, fly for the first time in your life, and for goodness sake - fuck hard and fuck often.

I deem Monday Wild Monkey Sex Day! ;D

The Teacher