Following up on my rave review of Steff’s cunnilingus tutorial I want to take just a second to present an opposing view. (One I don’t share but that’s worth airing anyway.)

A while ago I read a post by a modern young woman who said

If I ever encountered a man who didn’t like cunnilingus, I’d think he was probably either a closet homosexual or a total bastard.

[Sorry, no link to this one. It predates blogging. —fl]

Aah, to be young and not remember older days! Not that long ago nobody (admitted they) performed oral sex except the French who, after all (the rationalization went) ate snails and stinky cheese as well.

Don’t get me wrong, for some reason I started fantasizing about cunnilingus as soon as I heard about it, long before I was really clear about all the other details of sex. It was never a question of acquired taste — when I finally got to try it I immediately fell in love with the tastes, the smells, and textures of my first partner’s pussy (and every one I tasted thereafter.)

But. I remember not liking broccoli, asparagus, fish, shellfish, green peppers, mushrooms, tofu, brewers yeast, or even green peas. Oh yeah, and snails and stinky cheese. Though I’ve since learned to love those flavors too, I do remember my initial reactions. For that reason if for no other I can imagine how someone might be be daunted by cunnilingus. At least at first. :-) But seriously, if it’s ok not to like raw celery, or tomatoes, or chocolate (hard to believe but some people don’t) then it’s ok not to like other flavors either.

Anyway I’m never sure how to react when someone’s partner won’t eat her. Clearly I’m of two minds about it. First of all I can’t imagine not wanting to eat someone I was at all attracted to. As my extremely coarse southern-boy buddy (who’s brother is really called Bubba) would almost certainly have said “never stick your pecker in anything you wouldn’t eat.”

But turning the tables, it’s hard to imagine a chorus of voices agreeing so heartily that a man should ditch a partner who won’t fellate him. So…

For that reason (and that reason only, really) I’m sort of honor bound to, well, if not stand up for men who won’t go down then at least sit a little straighter for them.

It seems like if you take it for granted that all normal healthy men love to give it isn’t it just as safe to assume all normal healthy women would love to give it too? But not all women do.

And I’ve known any number of women who weren’t (and probably still wouldn’t be) comfortable even kissing my mouth after I ate them. And any number of others have they’ve said they couldn’t eat another woman. And yet they too are psychologically, culturally, and hormonally normal and sufficient people.

If all women aren’t comfortable tasting a woman’s juices why assume all men would? Their reasons for not wanting to may be surprisingly similar to their counterparts.

None of this is to argue against cunnilingus. Far from it. But in the long run furthering a maxim that “all men must” is going to be about as unhelpful as previously popular maxims such as “non-immature women have vaginal orgasms” (because many perfectly mature women don’t) or “self-respecting women don’t perform fellatio” (because so many do.)

—-

If we lived in a different social structure and your partner didn’t enjoy eating you I’d instantly invite you to drop on by. We’d both find it delicious.

I keep smacking my beak against this picture window but I know there’s something in what I’ve tried to say over and over about owning one’s own sexuality. I talked about Elizabeth “My body will be his playground only” Sandoval here. I’ve talked about Laura “my body belongs to one person — me” Tooth here. You’ll find previous attempts further back in my archives and posts and comments on other sites.

This time I think I’ve got it:

If you’re saving yourself for anyone, save it for yourself. If you’re waiting for the right person, remember the real right person has to be you.

Neo-victorians like Sandoval are correct that “But mom, all the other kids are doing it” doesn’t make you ready, but wrong to imagine “I now pronounce you man and wife” automatically does.

We can leave it to others to debate whether that alone is sufficient to owning one’s sexuality but this prudish libertine says it’s fundamentally necessary.

The Scribe called Steff at Cunting Linguist is halfway through a very thorough but very approachable tutorial on cunnilingus. She’s been getting a fair number of hits but relatively few comments, especially from men, and feeling a bit discouraged. This is disappointing because a) she knows what she’s talking about and b) she’s rumbling about not finishing it.

Personally I’d like to thank her for taking the time to really, really explain what’s going on. Some of this I knew instinctively, some I learned through trial and error, some I thought I knew but I was wrong, some I didn’t know at all. I really appreciate the detail she’s providing, the effort she’s taking to put things in terms men can relate to, and especially the sheer volume of information she’s providing. I mean crikies, three posts and she’s only halfway there.

Specific details I appreciate: Instructors often say “her whole body can be…” you provide specific examples while making it clear there can be others. You provided a highly accessible example by using a well-known episode of Friends. You indirectly provided a good argument for shaving by proposing gnawing the mons itself, which I hadn’t considered before but would worry about pulling hairs if any got caught in my teeth. You did a wonderful job explaining how the outermost part of the vagina has most of the nerve endings. If I went back, which I certainly will, I could pull several other great examples of how you explained something in a way that, even if you had a basic understanding, makes the technique, or area, or idea clearer.

I think the least I can do to encourage her is to write a post applauding her up one side and down the other, and encouraging people to come read it, and encourage men to actually do what she recommends. And I will certainly apply all the ideas she’s reinforced, reminded me of, and introduced the next time I perform cunnilingus. And while I’d prefer draw the line at telling my partner where I learned the new things I’ll be trying, if that’s what it takes to get her to finish the series I’m at least willing to consider it.

Her first three entries:
The Man’s Guide to Fine Female Dining: Pt. 1
The Sex Tips Scene from “Friends”
The Man’s Guide to Fine Female Dining Pt. 2”

And to prove she’s no slouch she’s also recently written
The Good Girl’s Guide to Giving GREAT Head Pt. 1
The Good Girl’s Guide to Giving GREAT Head Pt. 2

Those who can
Those who can do things like find the perfect shade of lipstick, unzip their partner’s pants, coax out their cocks, stroking them hard with feathery fingertips, sensuously apply thick layers of lipstic to the sensitive undersides of their cocks till they were quivering hard, then swirl more around and around the tip till it’s positively throbbing. Then they grip their partners cocks firmly at the base, rubbing their thumbs across the lipstick-slick underside till their partner is panting uncontrollably, bring their mouths within millimeters, part their lips in a perfect “oh,” use their hands to circle their partners cocks round and round like giant lipsticks till their partners begin to gasp, and then, at the last moment when their lips are coated that perfect shade of red and their partners cocks begin to spasm they squeeze their lips around their partner’s cocks and them into their mouths in one gulp, smoothing their lipsticked lips into perfect cupids bows as their partners buck and moan, rend the sheets in clenched fingers, and spurt and spurt and spurt hot come into their throats.

Those who can
And those who can open their partner’s summer dresses one by one beginning at the top, passionately kissing the flesh they reveal, slurping succulent berry nipples between their lips leaving them slippery wet and crinkled as dates, not to be abandoned, oh no, but to be revisited between unbuttonings by warm strong hands that continue to kneed and roll them as the lips go down, down, discovering no impeding hint of undergarment (and really no need on such idyllically warm summer days as these) as hands and lips labor to unveil and devour oystery/peachy lips and clitorises already simmered to tenderness in their own creamy broths and liqueurs, and as the last buttons part and strong hands sweep the last of the covering garments to reveal glorious, proud naked bodies with arms wide over their heads and legs wide under their partners lips they slurp and lick, nibble, and kiss their partner’s pussies, teasing them, taunting them, making them moan and sigh with 10,000 sensations for which there are no words, they reach around and under their partner’s asses, grip their thighs, and hold them close to their mouths so that tongues aren’t thrown from their goals, and as their partner’s passion mounts higher and higher they slip sometimes one, sometimes more fingers into slithery wet depths, pressing against folds, reaching in and up to caress plumply corrugated ridges inside or down to stretch against clamping inner rings and gently but firmly rock and stir till first rigor and then mewing relaxation arrive.

Those who can’t
And those who can’t? Well, they write comment spam instead.

Julie of What’s your pleasure? asks how we define sex.

Can sex be a whole lot of different things (penetration, oral, foreplay, spanking, kissing, licking, sucking, fucking) with just one or two things in common that make that activity sex? Like the orgasm?
If an orgasm is mandatory for an act to be sex, then for years I was not having sex while my partner was.

What if I roll on over and give my partner a hand job, is that sex? He came, I didn’t, but I liked it…so….

Read her entire post here

I’ve tried to tackle this question a couple of times but I never feel like I’ve got it quite right but I’m going to try again.

I think it’s anything that knowingly produces arousal in each other whether or not you go any further. Thus just flirting or holding hands counts in my book, as does cybersex or phone sex. There are other threshholds to cross along the way but at least for me they seem to be more about degrees of risk (getting caught, transmitting illnesses, conceiving a child) and reward than about whether, at this point or that, you’re now having sex while a moment before you weren’t.

The problem with other definitions, at least for me, is that there’s no clean line that applies to everyone regardless of age, fertililty, gender preference, or kink/convention. At least to me it feels like there’s a continuum one steps into very, very early on in a relationship. An “outside” way to think about it might be to ask at what point a third-party observer would say you and a partner have stepped on the sex escalator, not whether or not you you ride it to an arbitrary top floor. Another way to think about it is at what point a third party would begin to feel jealous or hurt if they were involved with one or more of the involved parties. Finally, it could be said to be the point where a reasonably discrete third party seeking sex would say “oh, he/she/they’re not currently available.”

Yes, I agree my definition might also be a bit arbitrary but I think it’s more honest, and no more arbitrary, than hair splitting at the other end where one must quibble about whether this orifice touching that, in which position, and how extensively is really sex and not just “fooling around.”

This is a quick followup to my previous post about when sex after marriage can be inappropriate.

In an extended post primarily about a breakup with her partner, Laura of Laura the Tooth says

5. while i love experiencing and getting to know someone through my pussy, it is not to be confused with me giving it away. i use it to experience someone, a gift i can only give myself. the idea that my pussy is some kind of gift i want to give to a lover is a laughable thought at best, a repugnant and offensive concept at its worst. my body belongs to one person—me. my experiences, my memories, my feelings—i like that there are some intimate observations of different people that will forever belong to only me. i like that i have this gallery of memories, these various sexual connections with very different people. it is a mental high that i can never give up.

In one of my first real “one-night-stand” encounters, when I was just out of high-school, this equally young woman and I had spent much of the day and evening talking, walking, and kissing. One thing led to another and I wound up eating her to a long, slow, and (since she hadn’t had many orgasms with partners) fairly hard-won orgasm. I held her for a bit while she quivered and uncurled. I was happy as an otter in clear water from the experience and she kind of blew it by getting this weird, kind of sad look on her face and said “I guess now you want to stick it in me.”

Well, I suppose up to that moment I certainly had but ewww!

It wasn’t that she didn’t have experience with sex, but it clearly hadn’t been very positive for her. In other words she was used to “giving it away” but not having it. In retrospect I think it might have been better to talk her through that and then really have sex instead of “take it” from her but I instead said I had to leave to catch a ride home. (This at the end of a vacation in an east coast shore town.)

The point is that courtship, neither a one-night stand nor a formal marriage, shouldn’t culminate with “I guess now you want to stick it in me.” Not if it’s going to be a healthy one. If one’s pussy is to be a prize at all (and I’m not sure that’s a healthy attitude in the first place) ultimately it has to be one’s own prize, not one’s partner’s.

Ok, so the other day we were walking around in the shopping district and my partner pointed out a sort of mismatched couple. I didn’t get a good look at them but she said the man was sort of ordinarily dressed but the woman was wearing very revealing, body-enhancing clothes. My partner said “something about those two just screamed ‘mail order bride.’”

Like I say I didn’t get a good look, and in the high-end, high-tech, international-flavored area we were in it’s entirely possible it was just that.

On the other hand, this morning as I was exercizing I started thinking about that “men make women dress” meme. I keep bringing it up, and I’ve said in the past that in my experience most men are pretty clueless about what women wear, and often very happy to be with them no matter what they wear. (For instance outside of maybe banks and retail I don’t think most men really care what women wear to work as long as its not distracting.)

None of this would be interesting except for a little thought that trickled into my head, unbidden: market survey after market survey show that in the vast majority of couples women select or outright buy the clothes their partners wear.

—-

Back in the Victorian era another extremely popular meme was that women fainted at the mere sight of blood. (Another joke of Victoria herself, I suspect, and another that was taken as fact by her too-humorless subjects.) Gentlemen, it is supposed, weren’t aware that women deal regularly with quite a bit of blood and consequently went to great lengths to “protect” them from the mere sight. Much hilarity, plus smelling salts, ensued.

Anyway, I’m just wondering if there’s a connection here. I’ve always felt women dress far more for themselves and, especially, for other women. And now that we mention it, they (stereotypically and statistically) also dress men. So is this “men make women wear sexy clothes” another one of those what’s-wrong-with-this-picture things like the Victorian fancies about the sight of blood?

Interesting post over at Rollertrain about shopping for porn stars. I’d heard years ago that women in porn are often vanishingly petite in order to make their often average-sized male colleagues’ cocks look bigger. The post confirms this and goes a step beyond.

Most Adult video consumers don’t realize that female pornstars are freakishly petite people. Casting tiny women is a clever trick that makes erections look bigger. For years, I figured that pornstars typically shop in the Junior’s Section of most department stores. But after three hours of hunting for size zero’ s – three hours – all we found were the beginnings of varicose veins on my size eight old lady legs.

(Context: The model they’re shopping for is a size zero!)

A week later, I met up with the pornstar and handed her the various outfits that James and I had secured. She picked through them with her neatly manicured nails, trying on small tops and tiny bottoms. Nearly all of them fit. When she got to the denim skirt, she held it up to her waist. “What size is this?” she asks, her hair falling over her face.

“It’s a small,” I say.

She pulls out the garment tag and reads it. “This is for babies,” she scowls. She unbuttons the skirt, slides it on, and it fits.

Read her whole post here.

I read a week or two ago that 50% of adult women in North America are size 14 or larger. Once again, going 14 sizes smaller than average just to make men’s willies look bigger than average isn’t really doing much for our images of ourselves as defacto inadequate.

I read a lot of sexblogs. Here are the ones I read every day.

So many people have things to say about sex. They don’t all write about beds of roses, though some do. Some aren’t salacious at all, others are wildly so. Some post about theory, others about technique. Some about the wild things they did last night, others about how they haven’t done anything for years. People write intelligently, foolishly, thoughtfully, impulsively, pornographically or erotically or chastely, some are elated, others are achingly sad. All teach me things I didn’t know about love, sex, gender, pornography, erotica, emptiness, fulfillment, and life.

One of these days I’ll revise my templates so I can include veryone in my proper blogroll (they’re fiendishly complex and it’s my own fault.) This will have to do for now.

You don’t have to read them every day but you’ll find something to think about in all of them.

Trash

RAS-Resources

Blogs

Old friends I check first

Camo-Girl’s Girl In Camouflage (ne Watergirl)

Chelsea girl’s pretty dumb things

Cookiebush

Demure’s life of a demure college studentâ„¢

DTG’s Pussy Talk

Ell’s Wilful Damage

Freya’s House of Dreams

Housewyfe With Benefits

Postmodern Courtesan

VS’s Virgin Slut

A-C

2 hot chiks

Adriana’s Confessions of a Minx

Adriana’s Daily Pic

Adult Ero’s AlterEgo (translated)

Alex and Suze’s AlexSuze

Alohalani’s Philoblogsophy

Alyssa’s Welcome to Alyssa

Ambient Storm’s Provocative Persiflage: Panties

Anita’s Erotica

Bacchus & Aphrodite’s EroBlog

Bec’s Gravity

Bellacara

birdmadgirl’ Blog

Bisexuel.dk

Black Kitten’s Sexkitten

Bliatz

C-Marie’s I Am Also a Sexual Being

Cali’s Spanking Virgin Cali

Cedia’s Got anymore stuff you wanna throw at me!!!!??

Charity’s Sex Talk & Other Stuff

chilled_v’s Boudica Of Suburbia

Curious Pussy

J-L

Jane’s – the educated slut

Jennifer’s Activist on a mission to initiate change…

Jil’s A Nightcap with Jyl

Jo Sexton’s Doxy Diaries

Julie’s What’s Your Pleasure?

Just a Girl’s Thoughts…

Katie’s Talking Dirty

Ken and Ariel

Kim’s Mercurial Girl

King Fotozo’s Babe-o-rama

Kinkabella’s Erotic Fiction & Fantasies

KNT’s Kiss and Tell Confessions

Laura the Tooth

Learn’s Learn as you Go

Leela Lamore

Librarygirl’s The Secret Life of Librarygirl

Licentia Vatum’s Poetic license

Lili-g’s Erotica Lee2

Lori Porter’s Sensual Arousal

Lunatic Newlywed

Lux Nightmare’s The Life and Times of an Angry Little Kitten.

M

M’s SouthwesternSexBlog

M’s The Tale of My Discreet Affair

Madeline in the Mirror

Maggie’s Mighty Girl

Man & Wife

Married, With Sex

Me’s The Call Girl

Meg’s The tales of a teacher (and slut)

Melissa Balmer’s Melissa

Mister Nice Guy

Mistress Matisse’s Journal

mmighty69’s everyday nakedness

Monk’s …and the strangest things seem, suddenly routine

MrManicDepressive’s Over 40 Married Sex

muffboxfilms

Muffins with butter

Musings of Mine

My Not-So-Secret Self

Myths and Metawhores – Embodied Spirituality

N-R

Nadia’s Kinky Librarian

Naughty_Virgin’s Inside the Mind of A Virgin: June 2004

Nixx’s Bawdy Bits

Noli Irritare Leones » Sexuality

NS’s Naughty Secrets

Nympho Girl – a journal of wanton and wildly inappropriate sex

O’s Eros, Logos

Overworked & Underf*cked

paths, plights, passions

philip’s hotaction.ca

PINK CANDY HEARTS

Plum, a ripening

Random Things I Can’t Tell Regular People

Red and Wolf’s Histórias de fazer corar (translated)

RedHeadBedHead

Rentboy Diaries

Richard’s Down On My Knees

Rollertrain’s Small Adult World

S

Salacious Desires

Salacity

Saltwater Cowgirl

Salvatori’s Money Factory

Sarong Party Girl

sexblo.gs

She kinky!

Simply Satisfied’s Real Live Woman

SJR’s Me in a Nut shell

spankmewithaspoon

Stefanie’s Ex-millennial girl

Steff’s cunting linguist

SugarBank

Susie Bright’s Journal

sxxxy.org

T-Z

Tajalude’s I Should’ve Been Famous By Now

tblue’s internet addiction word therapy

Tell Your Sex Story

thatgirl’s life

The Divorce Chronicles

The Feminarian’s Feminary

The Red Sneaker Diaries

The unknown Naughty Girl

The Wet Spot

TheGirl’s Girl with a one-track mind

This Fish Needs A Bicycle

Thoughts of a Mermaid Girl

Tony Comstock’s TC’s Blog

TrophyWife’s One Trophy Wife

TwiddlyBits’ Sex Blog

Unfurling’s My sexuality

Vikki’s Her Desires

Violet Blue’s Blog Index

Violet Blue’s Tiny Nibbles

Viviane’s Sex Carnival

Wegg’s pillowbook

Whirlbrain’s Pureedthought

E-I

Dacia’s Waking Vixen

Darkneuro’s House of Musings

devifemme’s Journal

Dixiedad’s Doogooder 2.0

Donny’s Ramblings

DQ’s Realm of the Demon Queen

EA’s Easily Aroused

Ed and Sue’s A Perfect Marriage

feministing.com

flea’s One Good Thing

Fred and Wilma’s Fun

Gloria Brame’s Inside the Mind of Gloria Brame

Goose and Gander

Grow Some Testicles

Hailey Dai’s Daily Dose

Heartbreak78’s Body Love

HG’s Heroine Girl

Him and Her’s Behind Closed Doors

Hugh and Mona’s Creative Nights In

Introspectre

Reference

A Woman’s Touch Sexuality Resource Center – Madison, Wisconsin

Adult Sexuality Web

BDSM: A Guide for Nice Guys

Clitical Sex Related Articles: Familiarizing Yourself with the Female Form

Clitical.com The Ultimate Female Masturbation And Sexuality Information Site.

Cunt: A Cultural History

Dr Gonzales’s Celebrated Reality Sex Guide: Penetrate the Tao of Porn

Ezine at Ms Naughty Porn for Women

Female Masturbation – On Camera

Feminist Perspectives on Sex Markets

Google Tutor & Advisor

Heartchoice.com the Practical Professional Advice on Relationships

hellyeah v.2::sex

Holistic Wisdom, Inc.

Homemade Sex Toys for Women: Blanket Pull

Human Rights Campaign | Home Page

JoseyVogels

Muslim WakeUp! Sex & the Umma

Paul & Lori’s The Marriage Bed – Sex and Intimacy for Married Christians

Sex Lingo

Sexual Advice – Sex Education and Expert Sex Advice at MyPleasure

Sexy Saturday Meme

Sweet Action Magazine ~ Porn For Girls!

The Alan Guttmacher Institute: Home Page

The Black Table

Tristan-Adventure Girl’s Pucker Up

village voice: Erotic etiquette

Working girls : prostitutes, their life and social control [Australian studies in law, crime and justice]

Sarcastic Sex Toy Blog

Utne

Betty Dodson’s Masturbation

Violet Blue of Tiny Nbbles says

• Sex bloggers need to have more sex and post about it. Dammit.

That puts me in a bit of a bad spot. I’m not comfortable identifying partners too closely and I’ve only had one for years so I can’t say “wow, last night…” without kind of pinning her down too.

On the other hand if I have no unidentifiable partners now I’ve had some wonderful unidentifiable (to others, silly, not to me) partners in the past. For instance…

History lessons in intimacy: a (slightly edited) message I wrote for someone I corresponded with years and years ago. It marks the moment I understood the intimacy of the (pre-web) internet. We never met in real life but had an intense, very passionate fling in bits and bytes before parting on very good terms.

I’m so glad we didn’t first meet in real life! Instead I got to meet you at home, soft flesh in knockaround clothes, a little gray at the roots, baggy pants, vulnerable, sweet, and full of hopeful horniness. Way past the formal obstacles of this and the social strictures of that.

I never wanted to “date” you. I just wanted to be there when you wanted me or I wanted you. I wanted to walk up behind you unawares at your computer while the kids are out of the house. I wanted to smell your scalp where your hair parts and rest gently squeeze the tension out of your shoulders in their t-shirt, pulling them back to help to help them relax. I wanted to slide my hands down and support your breasts in my strong hands and feel their different kinds of softness as my fingers cross fabric over breast to nipple to breast again. I wanted to lean down, my cheek against yours, and watch my hands move down over your soft mother’s belly to the waistband of your pants and then move in. Maybe your hand is already in there and I won’t have to fumble past elastic (lazy me) and I’ll join you there, between your legs, stroking and patting what I’ve never yet seen, greedily slipping under your own fingers feeling their wetness on the backs of mine and glad they stay to give me a tour. I wanted to feel you lift up to give me more room, to arch back so our lips can meet. I wanted to feel you start to slip down off your chair and hold you in place with the arm under your breasts and the fingers curled down and in and under your pubic bone. I wanted to see your bare feet, maybe between your toes the traces of mud from a scamper to grab the paper before it got wet. I wanted to watch them curl and cross as my fingers penetrate your core and the heel of my palm rocks your clitoris. I wanted to hear your breath, to smell the mix of morning and coffee and breakfast as our lips separate to regain our breath. I wanted to spin your chair around and kneel in front of you, pulling you awkwardly down, pulling up your shirt to sloppy-lick your breasts side to side and up and down. I wanted to grab the waistband of your obstacle/pants, impatiently hoisting your hips off the chair the way a parent undresses an uncooperative kid, sliding them off your bottom, rolling and awkwardly snagging your undies half-way down and hopelessly tangling your pants legs, inside out, around your ankles. I wanted to stand and pull them from the bottom up, making you grab the arms of the chair so you don’t go flying while you giggle in disbelief at my urgency. Then, too impatient to fool any further I wanted to shrug between your legs, under your still snagged panties, so I can feel your skin next to me, so I can kiss your breasts and belly and thighs, totally unmindful that over my head, you’re patiently if a bit distractedly trying to free at least one leg so you can spread yourself wide for me.

I wanted to be there when you haven’t touched up your “five o’clock shadow” for company, to smell your morning pussy smells and taste your morning pussy tastes. I wanted to yank my pants down no further than my knees, rip buttons getting my shirt out of the way. I wanted you to see how hard I am and then slide you off your chair and onto me and me into you. You know this position isn’t going to work, not for long, and you shift so we topple slowly sideways, pulling me on top of you. Satisfied that I’m where I’ve wanted to be — inside you! — I can instantly back come to my senses — some of them anyway — and we can settle in for a slow, deep, comfortable screw.

When I’m inside you I like to move low and deep so our mounds meet. I don’t know if you can come just from intercourse (maybe not the first time with someone new but there’s always practice, practice, practice) so I’d like to try, experimenting eyes to eyes, till your expression turns inward and I know I’ve found the right place.

Sometimes it feels so good I could come right away. Sometimes I can’t help myself! Often I go right to the edge and beg you to stop, stop, just a second please. Sometimes I have little mini-orgasms, squirting just a tiny bit of semen into you, and then if you hold still for just a second more the “danger” passes and though my pleasure is undiminished I can move, your way, my way, for as long as you like. I almost always come when you start to come, or when I think you’re about to, or when you say “come in me.” I like to reach behind and under you to feel where our bodies meet. If you don’t mind my weight I like to reach further around and between to diddle your clitoris as we move. When you get close I don’t like to change my rhythm for fear of putting you off yours but not automatically — I’ll respond to your urgency with mine.

That’s how I think about you, about you, a mother, no longer a teenager but a real, mature woman, in shape enough to “risk” a date, but not at all ready — soft, and vulnerable, trusting a man who wants to deserve your trust. Fucking a man who’s not jealous but glad you’re seeing someone else tonight. Kissing him with lips that might (but probably not, not on a first date in too long) be sucking another man’s cock (and certainly maybe thinking about what it would be like.) Breasts cuddled and mauled by one man who knows that soon another man will eye them appreciatively, appraisingly, wondering how they’d feel in his.

Mmm, mmm, mmm. I want that. I can’t have the at-your-home-address you, the real world you, but I want the tender, secret shared thoughts you. The too-late-for-first-impressions you. The “just you” you.

Not really physical sex at all, Violet, but sweet and passionate none the less.