Sexless Blues

Lately, it seems as if my sex-filled self has been missing. For once, I feel like I’m in a sexless rut, all of a sudden. The images of sex that used to be easily conjured and physically felt haven’t been present lately, and it’s made me wonder about it, more than once.

There have been many nights where I’ve been lying naked in my bed, touching myself, and I feel my clit raw and rough. No matter of rubbing would make my sexual desire rise from within me, and I feel frustrated. In my tired brain, I think of a sexual scenario in my head, something from my recent past, and I can’t fully conjure the visual – it’s as if I can see it in my head, but it’s clouded in a fuzzy haze, and the emotional attachment that made me see that visual in my head seems as if it were far away, like I was watching frame snapshots move across a screen, then disappear into my mind’s abyss.

Maybe that Chris incident has left me feeling a bit numb about sex. Maybe I’m just a bit disappointed that he called me again, after not hearing from him, only to reach his voice mail once again a few days later. Maybe I’m the type who needs to be emotionally stimulated to feel the sexual rush, feeling like the Energizer bunny, charging with sexual tension and desire. Maybe it’s the fact that I haven’t felt sexy in a while, and I’m needing a little attention. Maybe I’m just feeling a bit lonely and want someone near me to cuddle up in my bed, surrounded by a blanket, naked under the sheets. Maybe I just need someone who’s around a little more, to make me feel like a natural woman.

For once, the sex confessor is confessing that she is feeling sexless right now, and a bit lonely.

I guess we all have to suffer through the sexless blues, and it’s not fun…it’s hard to not feel wanted when she really would like to, but then again, what can I do about it?

Sex as Art

A few weeks ago, I had a discussion with a friend about the merits of sex being a creative outlet for human inspiration, and should be a valid artistic output in comparison to music, theatre, media, and the visual arts. Although human nature tends to look at sex as either a procreative act or a recreational act, no one can deny the fact that sex can be looked as another creative output to express emotions reaching the human soul.

What is art, you may ask. Art, in my humble opinion, is another outlet for humans to convey emotions without the use of words, or a human language. There are so many words in a language, but there are sometimes not enough words to fully express an emotion or capture a moment in time. It is a wave of momentary frames, ebbing in and out of one’s hindsight, and disappearing in a blink of an eye. And sex, at times, can definitely feel that way.

Think back to some of your best sexcapades. What was it about those sexcapades that you remember the most about? Was it the way you touched each other? Or the way she clasped you onto a bedpost and clamped your nipples until you cried, “mercy,” while dripping candle wax on your chest? Was it the way he brushed your legs with his hands? Or the way he slid into your pussy, slowly, while he intently stared into your eyes, locking for just one moment? All that, in my opinion, is art.

Art and sex can be connected to so much physical emotion that it can be overlooked, and sex can only be considered art if both parties are at one with each other – not necessarily that they are at one forever and ever, but at one for that one moment, both parties in sync, and they feel the same thing at that one moment in time, and not just the physical, but the emotional as well. I can admit, there were quite a few sexcapades where I didn’t feel the sex was art, but only a way to convey a physical need, selfishly wanting to ease each other’s sexual desire, rather than wanting that other person on an emotional level.

There are so many ways sex can and can’t be art, and it can differ from person to person. One person may see one form of sex as art, while another person wouldn’t. Just like art, sex can be controversial and can vary depending on the person. And sex, like art, can either be beautiful or ugly and unsatisfying, and all completely based on opinion.

In my eyes, there are many ways to have sex, but to have sex be an artform is a totally different venue altogether. All the stars may have to align, and the emotions and movements may have to be just right in order for sex to be considered an artform for me. Maybe I just need to find a sex partner who will be more than happy to help me make “sex art”…

FuBu Game-Playing

I’m so sorry that I haven’t been able to update the blog the past week, I have been pretty busy with work and kind of ticked off with the whole “dating”/fubu game that I haven’t been able to finish my “Sensual Touch” sexcapade, and it had kind of left a bad taste in my mouth. Hopefully my readers haven’t been wondering as to where I’ve been lately.

So yes, I went out on a date with someone who I thought wasn’t an asshole, had a good vibe with on the first date, had a second date with the person, fooled around…and then I sense him playing games. You know, like leaving voicemails in the middle of the day, saying he’ll call later, and then you try to call him back and he never answers the phone, or he leaves his IM on, but he never responds back…and that type of thing ticks me off. I am the type of person that doesn’t play games, and for someone to lie and say that he doesn’t do that is quite a strike against his character. It’s too bad, since he had potential to be a steady sex partner, but if he’s reading this and he thinks I’m wrong, then he’ll have to go and explain himself to prove me wrong, but I’ve gone ahead and deleted him off my phone. It’s such a shame…tsk tsk tsk

Then again, being in the current situation I’m in, I end up thinking about what I did wrong. Did I do something wrong on the technique? Did I say something to tick him off? What did I do? Things like just make me feel very insecure and very unsexy…and I would prefer for someone to be a man enough to tell me honestly what went wrong rather than being a pussy and playing games. I DO NOT like game playing, it is the shittiest thing to do, PERIOD.

So here I am, trying to find another person to fuck who isn’t your typical “I love your tits, I wanna fuck you, do you do webcam?” bullshitter that you find off the street. Men need to realize that women will NOT go for that bullshit. It’s like being hit on at a club, you don’t feel attractive when men say that, you feel like a piece of meat instead. Yes, everyone wants a piece of ass, but if you’re going be treated like a carcass rather than a woman, then forget about it. I’m a woman with feelings, and you’re gonna have to wine us, dine us, and treat us right before we put out some ass. That’s how it works, boys, so learn how to do it the right way rather than shelling out some stupid pickup lines that you learned from a slam book from elementary school.

There need to be more interesting, intelligent men out there who aren’t assholes to take me in…no more assholes, please!! If you play games, it’s time to toss you out the window, bro…

Sexcapade Files #20: Sensual Touch - Part II

Chris and I were cuddled against each other, and he drifted off into a snore-filled sleep. Feeling slightly uncomfortable, mainly hearing someone snore, sleeping in a bed that I wasn’t used to, and the fact that I haven’t slept next to someone since Eric and I broke up, I stayed awake tried to turn slowly without waking him up. A few times were successful, but one major turn woke him up, and he started to murmur.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m fine, just getting comfortable,” I said. I placed my head on the crook of his arm, and had and I conversed a little through his sleep-induced haze.

I felt the urge to grab his cock and rub it, just feeling its softness. My, it had been a long time since I had touched a cock like his – uncut, of average length, but it was thick. It reminded me a bit of Eric’s cock, the fact that it grew in my hands, peeking from its foreskin shield, and then growing to about 7inches in length. It was the type of cock that I felt may be able to hit my g-spot perfectly, and I winced at the fact that I couldn’t fuck that cock right now until my period went away. I rubbed and teased it softly with my fingertips, slowly circling around the head, lubricating it with precum until it became slippery and slick.

“Oh baby, that feels so good,” he said. (At this point, my ears started to wince whenever he said the words “Oh baby”…maybe I’m not used to hearing someone talk so much during sex…)

I lifted my head and kissed him on the lips, and once again, our lips touched and rolled against each other, as I felt one of his hands hit sharply on my ass. My, did that feel good. He did it again, and that pleasurable pain of being hit was too enjoyable to pass up. My tongue traveled toward his cheek, and my tongue touched his ear, teasing it with the tip of my tongue, nipping it with my lips, the I moved southward, licking his shoulder and down his arm, until I picked up his hand and sucked the tips of his fingers, one by one, teasing the webs of his fingers with my tongue, and then sliding them into my mouth, deep-throating each finger until all four were in my mouth. I let them go, and continued to lick his stomach, teasing his love handles by flicking them with the tip of my tongue, and then finding my way back to his cock head, licking it slowly and sucking it with my mouth.

“Baby, I want to fuck your breasts,” he said.

With his cock being hard as a rock, I placed his cock in between my breasts, pressed them together, and jerked his cock, while it slid, his cock head peeping in and out. He began to thrust, so I followed his jerks while he titty-fucked me, and I tried to lick his cock every time it appeared at the top of my breasts.

I let go, and he said, “We should get some more sleep,” and I agreed. Again, being comfortable in his arms, I fell into another fitful sleep, wondering what else would come next this night…