Cumming on his face vs Cumming in his heart.
Stamped: August 16th, 2006 | Toggle Similar
Tagged: all things hot, hot sex, mom.
That sweet, sweet Vena Cava.
When I was little, I remember hearing my mom talk to my sister about how sex just doesn't feel as good without love.
My mother was raised by a Christian minister out in some small Dutch village where people were known to milk animals on occasion. She married an American Jew, so she wasn't terribly conservative in her ideals.
Fortunately for me, she was really liberal about drinking, staying out late, and having fun with boys. But there were two things that she was very conservative about: sex and drugs. Dating and making out- even sleeping over with a boy were cool in certain situations. But sex- like all the way- was something sacred in her book and I took that to heart. So I didn't toss the ol sausage down my animal trap nor did I learn to love the blunt till college. (Or at least I held off on the whacky tobaccy till senior year of high school, though my friends were all in committed relationships with the stuff years prior.) I've still never done any drugs past grass, not even E or coke. BTW, I've heard they're great- you all should go out and do them!
Anyways, the basic idea that sex should be reserved for loving relationships stuck with me almost my whole life. As long as a boy graciously invited my crotch into his word hole, we were all good. Actually, up until this past December, I'd only been with three men, and I'd been in love with all three. (Please don't be confused, I am still a kinda slutbag. Oral, Oral, Oral, AYE! Remember? Oh god I don't want this ruining my reputation.)
Before love number three came along, I had engaged in a sea of disappointing hookups. The intimacy I had with No. 3 was intense and welcome after my year of singledom. The sex was loving and incredible. Mom had to be right. I had just had a year of emotionally void human connections, only occasionally validated by skilled poon-craftsmen who lent me minutes of bliss before I realized how little I cared for them. I was getting over heartbreak and I used the cock as the mending tool of choice. But the awful thing about bad hookups is as much as part of you wants their momentary satisfaction, they can make you miss your last love because most of them just aren't that good. Your mind becomes deluged with No-one-will-ever-kiss-me-like-he-did's and I-so-didn't-bust-a-nut-in-his-face-like-I-used-to's.
No. 3 was welcome. I was at a pathetic point where I thought no one would ever love me again and I was doomed to meaningless bullshit forever. And yes, no matter how Celine Dion this sounds, he taught me that I could love again. That knowledge is more comforting than comforters. I loved him, it was intimate, the sex was fantastic, the best I'd ever had. How foolish I had been to think that Ex No. 2 was as good as it would get. Being with No. 3 was a great treat. Sure the relationship was great, but more importantly, that man made me scream over and over and over again! He snuggled and cuddled, reciprocated and cared for me as I cared for him. I know a huge part of why we fucked each other like awesome animals was due to our connection.
And though that relationship ended amicably due to various logistics, he'd proved to me that yes, intimacy and love make for cumtastic times.
Intimacy is also offered today in cream form, further complicating this debate.
But the problem was and still is, I had just gotten so fucking SICK of being in love! It's draining and intense. My mind and my heart just can't afford it right now. And if I stick to my maxim, I've got to fall in love again for more awesome sexy sex.
Was I, at 24 (25 now), able to live without doing it? Was stopping at oral going to cut it as it has all these years?
I decided No. No no no. I am a grown up. As long as I show discretion in choosing partners, and sleep with dudes that are really cool and awesome guys, I don't see why I should hold out for love- especially since I didn't want any more freakin love! I'd decided that I was going to do it with a guy if I really thought it was right. I've got my head on straight enough to handle it.
Sure enough, I can handle it. Though I'd be delving into whole new territory to discuss the difficulties of trying to balance dating and maintaining your own space- being involved with someone yet keeping them at bay. Essentially, having a relationship while staying single. That's a challenge deserving of it's own discussion.
But along came a really really fucking hot surprise. I dated someone where there was no love, yes- respect, kindness and decency- but nope, no love, no cuddly wuddly, no mushy embraces. And that sex was fucking incredible. Infinite spank bank incredible. His body was slammin, his junk was tizzite, and he enthusiastically loved doing all the things that I loved receiving. That bitch knew how to put his thing down flip it and reverse it! Fucking high five me! It was satisfying. I cannot think about it without wanting to flick the bean into outer space so I'll stop right now cause I need both hands to type.
When my mom told us that sex is nothing without love, I believed her. Perhaps I still do to some extent. There was some level of intimacy with Mr. Lust 2006, without the love. But I know that what we had was pretty much purely physical.
Mr. Lust 2006 taught me that I can have amazing, mind-blowing sex without love.
Here I am, staring a principle in the face that served me so well my entire life. It's been proven wrong, at least considering who I am and where I am today.
Walking away from Mr. Lust hurt substantially less than walking away from No. 3, yet No. 3 gave me something great that will last me a lifetime. I know that I'm supposed to conclude that real love is totally the shit. But sometimes being in love is impossible, difficult, and draining.
Aesthetic perfection vs. Emotional intimacy. I'm still figuring out which one I'd like today.
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Not sure I entirely agree with that - maybe I’ve just tried the sex-without-love-thing with the wrong guys. I did give it a go and was completly unsatisfied and have decided to wait for love again.
I think sex-without-love works if you aren’t secretly harboring a hope that it will turn into love. Sex without any connection is mostly boring in my experience; there has to be something there, but it doesn’t have to be love. I like and respect my current friend-with-benefits, but there’s no way i could ever love him, he’d drive me freakin mental. But it’s good this way.
Hear hear Serenity. That’s totally it-I’ve had great sex with guys I nowhere near loved. That said though, my fiancee has taught me that sex with love is also incredible.
i was thinking today that great sex with love is downright scary… it’s almost too intense. the closest i got to that, god, we pretty much never got out of bed, between the sex and the conversations and all, it was all-consuming. is that what i’m aiming for again? yikes. it sets the bar pretty high. sigh.
that was worth reading. i respect this post. usually good sex makes me think i’m in love but love is so confusing. now i think love must be balanced out equally with hate and that is the pain in the ass of it.