I have SOO missed writing, blogging and just the general mischief that I used to do and cause with this site! and I’ve missed the sex talk and the community and just everything. And the sex. I miss sex.
Actually I have sex whenever I want it, just not with anyone else. It’s been 5 years…or is it 6.. since I had sex of any sort with Arwyn. Honestly, I’m not sure I miss that so much as I miss those early days of good sex. Of being young and having a willing partner who was willing to explore and experience things.
I might also be slightly inebriated this evening, what with ringing in the new year and all. By myself.
Actually it’s not by myself because I’m bringing you, my reader(s?) with me. By the time you read this, you’ll be well into your new year (and so will I) but imagine for a moment that it’s New Year’s Eve. The end of 2014 and the beginning of 2015. Where are you and what are you doing? Where I live, I can hear some fireworks in the distance and it’s only 11:38. But I imagine a few of the other drunks are shooting their fireworks prematurely because they simply can’t wait to shoot their load of good cheer upon the surrounding neighborhoods. As long as they don’t cause any fires and burn my house down, I say go for it. Even though it is still annoying.
I’ve been perusing some videos and decided I needed to share. These COULD be safe for work, provided you keep the sound low enough or wear headphones. These are some of the sexiest videos I have watched in recent memory. They are of women reading books aloud. Some of the books are erotica but some of them are relatively mundane. Here’s one of a woman reading about Whitney Houston and her ’80’s music:
Here’s one in Russian:
You can find these in a variety of languages and literary genres to fit your own tastes. And if you’re seriously addicted to this sort of thing, you can go to Booknob and see these things for about $50 a month. Oprah never had a book club quite like this!
I like this sort of thing. The women are seemingly trying to concentrate on reading their books but end up giving in almost totally to their own sensuality. It’s art and erotica and literacy all rolled into one, although it seems the subjects almost never end up finishing their books or even a single chapter.
It is enormously tempting to fast forawrd to the 2 minute mark where things start getting exciting, but if you do you’ll miss the important subtleness of the quickness of breath, the changing cadence of the reading, the mispronounced words. you’ll mis the subtle physical cues, the squirming and involuntary movements and reactions.
These are the the small, subtle things I miss most about sex. I remember one woman who I would bring to raoring and loud orgasms, playing her expertly while my ear rested over her chest, listening to the increasing tempo of her heartbeat and the deepening of her breathings. I remember thinking how awesome it was to know that I was doing this. I was responsible for this wonderful thing that was swelling and growing until it reached its fullness, opening like a flower, bursting forth the rich nectar of carnal pleasures. I did that. Once. Well…more than once but it was a long, long time ago.
Arwyn would never allow me to do that for her. Ever.
I did, however, allow her to do something like this to me. I wasn’t reading any sort of literature (erotic or otherwise) but we often talked about the mundane things. Longtime readers may recall this time as it represented a compromise of sorts. She would do this whenever she wasn’t in the mood for full-on sex. Which was most of the time. The caveat was that I had to ask. But of course often her hands were dry and chapped and it often took effort to get her to do this much. Or the time on Valentine’s day where she fell asleep in the middle. Good times. Hehe…sarcasm.
She would stroke my hardening shaft and we would talk about whatever was on her mind, mostly the kids or chores or whatever. In some ways, there were elements of our good friend Lady Misato at work. But the room was always mostly dark, and the only cues as to my impending happy ending to the works of my wife’s hand was the subtle changes in the pitch of my voice, the gasps and shallowness of my breathing and of course whatever throbbing she could feel in her hands. To her credit, Arwyn always stroked through the very end, albeit with a towel. But I never got the impression that she particularly enjoyed these little sessions. And aside from the physical relief and the accompanying pleasure of an orgasm, I derived a lot less pleasure from them than if she would have somehow been into it. And so I quit asking. And never once has she ever offered. Ever.
I think this is one of the more bitter losses when it comes to the loss of my sexuality. The ability to do that for someone else. Of course, in the early days, I was into the idea of ‘no talking’ but those little sessions with Arwyn did make me acutely aware of how arousal can affect a person’s voice as well as the rest of their body. In an odd way, I sorta got off on what it did to me, and that was during a period where not being in control held a lot of appeal. I often fantasize about how I might do things differently if I was with those earlier lovers, knowing what I do now.
The most important gift you can give your lover is your own enthusiasm for whatever it is you are doing with them and to them. If you are enjoying it, chances are enhanced that they will too, whether or not you are hitting the exact right spot. Because the most sensual target of all is not the space between their legs, but the space between their ears; their mind.
Hysterical Literature is a lovely project and I richly enjoyed watching it and certain memories evoked. Many of those videos were worthy to be watched more than once, just to tune into the wonderful intricacies of arousal and response and even the selections that the ladies chose to read. No nudity at all, just women reading their favorite books.