Intercourse:Features

 Wanker

My mind has always had a healthy interest in sex. It's safe to say that since the time my libido developed, the want for sex has driven me to distraction on most days it was absent and not an option.

Correction:

When sex with another human being, in the flesh, has been absent. There has been plenty of masturbation. Often too much. Way too much. 

Celibacy was a choice. Of sorts...

As strong as my sex drive is, my sexuality is not so simple. Same for most of us, right? I can stare as a gorgeously attractive man and not want to shag him. Not want to touch him, have his tongue in my mouth and other places...More often than not, my libido is not triggered by sight. 

It is triggered by male sexuality and minds. If a label must be given to my inner-working, it would be Demisexual, which confused me when first learning about it. Even I thought 'Doesn't most people need something more than just a bodily attraction to have sex with someone?' After all, few women want to be mixed up with a man they don't like or relate to on a basic level at least.

Being Demi takes this to a whole new level, apparently, and I'm still unable to really articulate the difference. When you know, you know...

I didn't have any sexual contact with another person for three years after the sudden and unexpected death of the man I had grown

an emotional involvement with - and with whom I had been naked. There are 72 hours maximum left to pass before he was due to move closer and start a new job, when he died. Losing his friendship (nevermind the future sex and connection) put me on my arse. It still does.

Three years ago, though, I had to bind my desires and stop pleasuring myself for months and months. And months. By this time,

my demisexuality, masturbation mainly meant memories and fantasies about him. Porn has its place, but once my brain has found an appealing source of arousal, that source generally becomes my predominant sexual inspiration. Believe me when I tell you this...

Wanking while thinking of a dead person you were once really close to is a bad idea. I told a male this once. He hasn't experienced

any close deaths so maybe that is why he couldn't see why it's a very bad idea. I explained it to him thus...

In the moment, our brains struggle to see the difference between fact and fantasy. It may be all tingles, heat, spasms and orgasms in bed when it's dark (or light) , snuggled all up tight and falling asleep with our dead 'lover', but afterwards comes the crash and the grief kicks-in again with more intensity than before the climaxes you had the night (or afternoon) before...

Because we'd spent a couple of years masking our mutual sexual feelings and acted purely platonically, we grew a real, if unlikely, friendship. I refused to flirt with him for the first couple of years or so, but now and then little things leaked out of both of us until we finally admitted our mutual attraction.

He was the first person I wold speak to when things went right or when they went wrong. I was the one he'd call when the darkness descended inside him and life just seemed to hard to continue. We also started writing together, creating a website story made up of fictional even and real experiences and communications from our connection. It's still a struggle to work on that (myone-daylove.com #MODL), and it's largely been let unaltered since his death. I will finish publishing what we wrote. One day...

People in my life knew nothing about us until after he died. They had no idea of his existence and position in my life (there's that compartmentalisation I talk about in 'Cuts Both Ways' in my Foreplay Features), and his loss devastated me. It still does. As I update this in December 2022, the third anniversary of his death is but a coupe of weeks away. Three years, and so much of the time, I still

find it hard to breathe when I think of him.

So, I try to not think of him. 

No, that doesn't really work. 

I fucked another man on his birthday this year...

There are times I'm wanking when he slips into my mind, of course there are. He remains the man I want most. Knowing I would never touch, smell, taste, heal or feel him again is still something I struggle with and switching my libido off for an extended period wasn't hard in the aftermath of his dying. 

Because.

He.

Was.

Gone.

But that embargo is not sustainable. Not for me. 

My need for some sort of sexual satisfaction was always going to raise its crazy-making head and roar between my legs. Problem is, to really quench its thirst, it needs a focus. A target. A muse. It needs one man who turns on in me what 98% of men don't seem to.

Very different sources,

very different arousals. 



Life - and death - changes everyone...

Room Service

As written in Cuts Both Ways, I've spoken to 2000-3000 men online, some for very extended periods of time. Excluding the man I met up with in 2022 and the Ex-Best-Left-Forgotten, only four others have aroused enough of my interest to meet them.

Number One was platonic. We were in touch online for a few years all in, including across our personal social media. 

Number Two was the young one with the great fingering technique I talked about in Cuts Both Ways. The one I wouldn't shag. Shame really, because he had a beautiful penis. It was deceptively large for his overall size. Not, of course, that a man's overall size is an indicator of the size of his cock.

That said - and this is not most credible source to draw upon - once I hit my mid-teens, my mother repeatedly informed me that 'Short men,' insert creepy smile. 'Their energy didn't go into making them tall, if you know what I'm saying...'

I did, sadly.

But I didn't want to.

After meeting me from the train, Number Two took me for a drive, then for lunch, then hung out in my hotel room and ordered room service. Given the 17 year age gap, some would say we couldn't have had much to talk about. All I know is all of our communications, from start to end, in person, on paper or online when he were posted thousands of miles away were easy, and bought us both many smile.  The man who brought our meal obviously thought he was a male whore, announcing from the door, 'Make sure she pays you in the morning.' We both laughed, once he had recovered from his shock. Watching his expression was a delight for me.   

He did stay the night, he didn't charge a penny and he groped my ass as my crutches and I left the elevator in the morning - just to give the staff at the reception desk something else to look at and talk about...

Yes, yes, he was significantly younger than me, but I was quite a bit younger too. I think his youthful appearance and the fact he drove an expensive car gave off the wrong impression. He'd earned his cash in the military, on tours, and had he been his age without having lived the things he'd lived and seen the things he's seen, we would never have spoken, exchanged some paper letters or met. 

Number Three was real and so special, but died. End of story. Once the media was done with him...

Number Four was The Long Game that led to coffee, a lot of online sex, actual sex that once led to four days in a wheelchair, a very sweaty somewhat filthy Summer and a, damn! Let's do that again. We did. But that's another tale. Or ten...Because he is also a whole bunch of complications and what sometimes feels like drama that needn't exist. It's such a shame. The sexual chemistry we have is great, the sex is...Somewhat pathological in some people's eyes, and has the potential to become incredible, however, I'm not that interested in dealing with unnecessary 'complications and drama'. I like things to be simple and straight forward. 

Some of his...'Complexities'... Were what drew me to him. Something I might cover in one of those ten tales I just mentioned.

The man I met up with a month and a bit ago, Number Five? I'm not sure what he is yet, if anything, which is why I'm not talking about him. My brain hasn't decided if he turns it on enough to divest myself of time and energy for him - is he worth increasing my pain for? Dating, romance, sex...Nothing is without pain for my Ehlers-Danlos body. Perhaps this is another reason my attraction is so rare?

A strong chemistry must be very evident between us on the first date if I'm going to see a man again, let alone get physical with him. That might sound like a bit of a high demand, but remember that before I meet a man for our first date, we've usually been in touch and communicating for month. Maybe a year or more.  I'm simply not sure where the chemical line lies between myself and Number Five. 

I wish my drive were not so picky, and that out of a few thousand men and some potential sexual playmates it would identify more than two confirmed genuine sources of real arousal.

Very different sources, very different arousals.  Life - and death - changes everyone...

One thing that doesn't change, though, is the level of my libido. I regularly put myself in one of my wheelchairs when my Fuck Me Hormones (FMH) are high or I'm banging on with one of the many websites I work on building. Why?

Because work, no matter the topic of subject matter, makes me horny. 

Even when I'm in a conventional

relationship with sex at a ready

supply, I just want more.

The more I have with a man,

the more I want with that man.

It's a monster in me. 

Horned Beast

If it's hot and sunny - I'm unbearably horny.

If it's pouring with rain - I'm unbearably horny.

If there are gales - I'm unbearably horny.

If it 's a bright, moonlit night - I'm unbearably horny.

If it's a dark, star-filled sky - I'm unbearably horny.

If I'm stuck in bed with pain below a certain threshold - I'm unbearably horny.

If I'm not actively distracting myself - I'm unbearably horny.

If I have a quiet five minutes, like going to the shop - I'm unbearably horny.

If I'm doing a task requiring little mental attention - I'm unbearably horny.

If I just woke up alone, my eyes still closed - I'm unbearably horny.

If I'm peeing - I'm unbearably horny.

If I have sex and I liked it - I'm unbearably horny.

If I'm sitting here typing - I'm unbearably horny.

If I take and make images for you - I'm unbearably horny.

If I write about men I've 'known' - I'm unbearably horny.

A Migraine seems to be the only thing that makes me not think about kissing, licking, sucking, scratching, gripping, biting, sliding...

This would all be less of a problem were I not Demi and if my brain did not largely focus on one male at a time.

This crush-to-coitus kind of focus can take time to dissipate once I'm done with a man. The time it takes to dissipate isn't necessarily based on my emotional investment or attachment to him, it can be based purely on the hours I spent wanking with him in my head. Traditionally, women have been labelled as the 'emotional ones' and there is sound scientific knowledge behind the cerebral effects sexual intercourse and intimate (orgasms specifically) can have on the female brain and therefore 'emotions'.

Thing is, for me, those emotions lay burned and buried with Number Three, an urn of ashes that were the body I once held and a bunch of repeating thoughts...I have no inclination to even start working towards rekindling or reconstructing such feelings with any man. My emotional state has little to do with the level of my libido. Some women can and do divorce our hearts and brains from our pussies.

Even when affections are involved, though, and I'm in a conventional relationship with sex at a ready supply, I just want more. The more I have with a man, the more I want with that man. It's a monster in me. 

It makes me ache with unquenched desires as much as Ehlers-Danlos makes me ache with pain. It sits in my bones. Not being properly able to quite define to others what Demisexual is like can be almost as frustrating. Their response is often a dismissive shrug and a claim that everyone needs to feel something to have sexual intercourse with a person.

This simply isn't true. As many battered and emotionally bruised women and men know only too well. 

I was meant to be going on another date with the undiscussed man, but I already know that he wants to head towards something involving those emotions I mentioned lying in a cemetery somewhere. he doesn't seem to fully believe this. I think he  thinks he can change my mind - and my heart, I think  he  thinks he can fuck me into feeling for him.

So, I've been backing off a bit because I'm not convinced. There are lots of things I don't think he'd like about my sexuality. Things I don't think he'd want to do.

Or want me to do to him.

And I'm not really feeling the idea of him doing anything to me, so...

While my heart may not be available to participate in dating and sexcapades, my ethics and fundamental respect for others as beings with emotions are fully engaged, and while I may have skirted around the boundaries of the morals of romance when I was in my late teens and early twenties, hurting men so I can get laid is simply not on my agenda. 

As for my sexual needs... 

...Until another Lover comes along,

I guess I'll just stick to being a wanker.