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About sex July 21, 2010

Posted by Leah in Autobiography, D/s.
3 comments

A reader asks whether sex is purely physical for me.

Sex: Procreation is not (today) one of my reasons for wanting to fuck. Sex is a physical act. Though not strictly necessary like oxygen or water or food, the fact of fucking is a humanizing influence, as essential to my soul as exercise or conversation or curling up with a good book. Bodies are playgrounds for creativity. Sex is the collaborative dance.

The pleasure is undeniable, of course. One of the few epiphanies in my life is that first great, searing orgasm I received from a lover. Every masturbatory climax, all the previous incipient fumblings and stumblings with a partner — anything and everything that came before — was as a faded photograph compared to its reality.

I like having a cock inside me. I like slobbering over it. I like squeezing it with the muscles in my pussy. I like how it penetrates my ass. The male penis fills and completes me. I thrill at fucking and being fucked. I also adore when a man devours my cunt. The acts of mating, from the first kisses to getting it on rough, make me feel alive as nothing else does. Sex is my one drug. I have lots of partners. The multidudes allow me to explore the varieties and the vagaries of the sexual experience. I don’t fall into patterns this way. The sex is different each time. This diversity is important to me. I have plenty of fantasies still to live.

Submissiveness: In my day-to-day existence, I am an alpha woman in nearly every respect. But when I am with a man in the sexual context, I prefer to be dominated. I want to be overwhelmed by his presence, his power, his penis. I want to surrender myself to him. I want to be, at last, a woman out of control. Inasmuch as I am capable of the undertaking, I aim to service my partner with my body. I worship his cock. I submit to his desires. I rejoice in being an obedient fuck-toy, a compliant plaything, his willing slut. I want to be the girl he thinks about when he masturbates years later. I say I will do anything, but there are limits. I have used a safeword twice in my life. Few acts I have been asked to perform are too dirty for me, however. I push the old boundaries away and strive to be my lover’s pleasure.

It doesn’t always work like this. Occasionally, I will take a lover for the satisfaction of having excellent sex — Frank looks to be one of these — or I will have a sequence of meaningless one night stands, uncomplicated by power games. With a woman, the dynamic is altogether altered — I prefer to switch.

Giving up control is a trust. Yielding myself to authority is an act of volition. I vet the men to see whether I think they are responsive and responsible, whether we are compatible together even for the space of a single night. I can’t submit to an idiot. I won’t. I need to respect a man’s intelligence to play with him this way. Even so, just because I have given him power and he is an a position of dominance over me and I do as he instructs, it doesn’t mean I submit to him mentally. The psychological and emotional submission is the best part. It rarely happens. He needs to be worthy of it, in my opinion. He needs to draw it out of me. I need to be compelled to give him my all.

Subspace: Getting there is a high. Staying these is a dream. It leaves me weak and emotionally vulnerable. Often I cry — sometimes inconsolably. It is a much needed release.

Most recently, after the man I called Daddy fucked me, I turned into an emotional wreck. The loneliness of being here in London without the boyfriend hit me at that precise moment. It fell on me like a thousand of bricks. Of all the men I have ever known, carnally or otherwise, the boyfriend is the one I most want to submit to. But he lives an ocean away. I felt guilty at having my pleasure here, without him. I felt irredeemably sad. My lover responded by holding me, by stroking my shoulders and back while I sobbed. It may have been minutes. It may have been an hour. I went to sleep, curling myself at his feet on the king sized bed in that hotel room. This is something my boyfriend has me do at home sometimes after sex, as an extension of it. I look up at his body from below. I lap at his toes. I feel like a faithful dog. I am safe and reassured.

Intimacy: I like sharing a bed. I want a man to warm me under the covers with his body heat. I want to snuggle myself next to him, avoiding the great wet spot we have left in the center of the sheets. I want post-coital conversation while I run my fingers through his chest hair, nails raking lightly over his naked skin. I want to lie in his embrace, in the crook of his arm, with my head propped upon his shoulder. I want soft kisses at bedtime. I want the odor of sex lingering in the air, blanketing us as slumber falls.

Alternatives to Craigslist? July 21, 2010

Posted by Leah in Craigslust.
4 comments

I posted the following ad thrice this week.

NSA fun – w4m

You are an interesting guy. You live an interesting life. You have interesting friends. You crave interesting sex.

I am an interesting girl. I live an interesting life. I have interesting friends. I crave interesting sex.

We should totally get together!

I am looking for a one night stand only. You and I are both drug and disease free. We use condoms. Kink is negotiable. I am not a prostitute.

Race, age, nationality are not factors in my decision. Good looks are important to me — so send a pic. A good brain is even more important — show me that you have one. Make an intriguing proposition. I might say yes. Do not send me a picture of your cock. I don’t need to see it before we’re naked together. I prefer if you can host in Zones 1 or 2.

Admittedly, it is not the greatest ad in the world, but still serviceable. It has led to a couple of conversations, but didn’t garner nearly as many responses as I would like. The w4m ads on the casual encounters board in London are flagged almost instantly. Do any readers know alternatives to Craigslist in the UK? If so, please send word.

Thanks!