Saturday, August 28, 2010

Masturbating on a Saturday night

Those men and their craigslist ads.
They've got this thing about showing their cocks.

Silly men. If they are no more than their cocks, they can be easily replaced by a dildo. Or a vibrator, to give that extra little zap of stimulation. And these dependable substitutes come in such a delicious variety of colors!

Delicious.
Well, maybe not.
A cock can be very delicious.
But a dildo?

You can't really call a dildo delicious.
Even if you coat it in a flavored condom.
I've never sucked a man in a condom.
Flavored or otherwise.

Silly, I suppose, but I've done wilder things.

Like inviting the sadist to my home without first meeting him in some public place and for that meeting or later arranging a silent alarm. I didn't have to. I knew. I knew that I had no choice. That he would come to my house and that would be it. It would be right.

But then, this post isn't about the sadist.

OK.
I lie.
It's always about the sadist.

At the end of his visit on Friday - not confined to an exact half hour now that I am no longer working - he said "You may masturbate. Not necessarily today, but sometime this weekend. And you will, of course, send me a report." "Thank you," I said, from my position on the bed. "Of course I will report. I know that my orgasms belong to you."

The position was the same one I had assumed for the spoon spanking. I posed solidly on forearms and calves, arms wider than shoulders for greater security, legs spread as well for easier access to my pussy. My back was arched as much as I could and then a little more, making my puckered little brown butt hole especially inviting. I suspect that is the ultimate purpose of my learning this position - to withstand being pushed over by the force of his attack on my anus.

Now my pussy is twitching madly.

I think I am indulging in protracted self-foreplay.
Just as sex is more than penetration, masturbation is more than genital stimulation.

Still, I can't imagine why I wandered over to craigslist to browse among the shockingly pathetic ads that men place as they look to get laid. Especially in casual encounters. I mean really, guys. Do they work for you? I suppose so. I suppose there must be some desperate, brainless women who need to have their cunts stuffed and not much more. A good fuck can be just what is needed at times.

But even when it's just for the sex, I still need some intellectual connection for it to be at all satisfactory. I have certainly never replied to a cock standing up and saying "Ooh, look at me! Aren't I the big one. Wanna have some fun tonight?" Though on second thought, if a CL advertiser had enough creativity to present a talking cock, I just might linger a while...

Of course, the problem can go the other way as well. Guys who are quite intriguing or - and here I think of one man in particular - a longstanding friend with whom there has been a longstanding flirtation. But when it comes to his cock, it is neither longstanding nor particularly creative. When we finally got down to it, and the few times we repeated the act thereafter, it just wasn't all that satisfying. So when he came on to me again last year, I turned him down. I did it in a sweet way, and we continue to flirt, and the sexual tension continues to hang there between us. But I turned him down. I would actually be quite happy to kiss and cuddle, to snuggle nakedly - but not to fuck. Too bad. If we really did end up a couple, it would be so convenient, even though he does live up north a few hours.

And he wasn't the only disappointment. I need that magic combined package of physical and intellectual attraction plus the ability to deliver. He doesn't have to be huge. He doesn't even have to be able to sustain a 20-minute fuck. He just has to know how intoxicate me with his kisses, raise and maintain the sexual tension, make my mind disappear into a haze of sensuality and tortured nerve endings, and then leave me feeling beautiful and appreciated and fulfilled, whether or not I actually cum.

Asking too much?
No. There are guys like that out there.
20-minute fuck and all.
[she smiles to herself]

So here I am, browsing the stupidest of the craigslist ads, wondering why, then suddenly remembering that I have a masturbation card to redeem. Could I really be using those cock pictures for inspiration?

Yuck!

So why do I turn to these stupid ads and these ridiculous, graceless pictures?

I think because a part of me - at least in my mind - is drawn to the brutality of a fuck in which the only interest on the man's side is to get his cock into my pussy as fast as he can, and then to use said pussy to satisfy his need. Period. There is cock and there is hole. I am the hole. I am the source of friction he needs to get off. And the rest of me? Something to play with, something to paw at, something to torture or whatever he needs to stimulate his hunger. To make him think of himself as huge, powerful, controlling, whatever the hell it is these guys need to get themselves so hot. Me, I know what my beloved fiend needs and wants, and I am oh so good at giving it to him. Sure, he owns me, he orchestrates everything from our relationship as a whole to our time together to when (or if, ever) I get to cum to my bedtime 5 days a week. But when I am down on my knees before him, his cock in my mouth, I am a Master Chef, and I know just what herbs and spices to add, what incantations to say, how much heat to apply to the pan, and how long to let it simmer to give him a orgasm that sets him growling and moaning and grunting and roaring until he is spent and satisfied.

I suspect this post doesn't hold together.
I read it over and added bits and it seems completely disjointed.
Oh well, who cares.
I'm too tired to fix it.
I think I'll go watch a DVD and fondle myself.
Maybe I'll imagine a camera.
Focused on the bed.
People will be watching.
My legs will be spread
so the view will be clear
and I'll be petting my pussy
and you'll see it grow wetter and redder
and I'll slip my fingers inside
and you'll think about what you'd like to be slipping inside
except some of you will want to hurt me first.
some of you will want to twist my nipples
and bite my neck
and bind me to the bed
so you can spank my pussy with the spoon
or flog it without my rolling away
and you are drinking my screams
and then reaching for the cane
until your cock is ready to burst
and you shove it down my throat
and you drive it into my cunt
and you chain my feet over my head
and stab your cock
deep in my ass hole
and I shriek as you fuck me
and I sob and I cry
and it only makes you harder
and then I start to moan
and I thrust up to meet you
and your balls bounce off my butt
and now we're both grunting
and I'm sobbing and moaning
and your mouth . . .
there are no words for your mouth . . .
and I'm trussed up like a chicken
a chicken being butt fucked
and you slip your fingers between us
and you take pity on my pussy
and you fondle me and fuck me
and I'm writhing in the chains
and moaning and calling your name
and we cum
and we cum
and we cum

Damn, but I'm wet.

3 comments:

Paul said...

OG, I know exactly where you are coming from.
Damn, this has to be one of your hotter pieces.
A talking cock, quite intriguing, mind you a lot of us seem to keep our brains there, so it's apropos.
Love and warm hugs,
Paul.

nancy said...

Nothing wrong with self foreplay~

I love the talking cock idea!

Cause who would need any other part of the body if the cock could talk, with a modicum of intelligence and wit.

I do enjoy the camera scenario as well.
Lots here to fuel the imagination!

Sharazade said...

Heh... I like this:

"I think I am indulging in protracted self-foreplay.

Just as sex is more than penetration, masturbation is more than genital stimulation."

The Craigslist ads, which I read sometimes, the way one reads about natural disasters in foreign lands, make me sad. I don't think those ads work. I think, as stupid and ridiculous and hopeless as we know they are (those with the cock shots and the textspeak demands 4 u 2 suk me now), that the people who post them do so with hope.

They hope someone will answer, that they will have sex, that they will be a little less lonely. And it won't happen. So next time they will feel a little more desperate and a little more detached at the same time.

Someone once told me I could run a service in which I rewrote people's ads for them. I would know what to say--or least, I could do better. But what then? They would need all the follow-up words too, and therefore the feelings behind them.

From where do people learn how to have relationships? Television isn't much help. Movies no better. All my parents ever told me about relationships was not to have them, until one day I would wake up married and then that one relationship would be OK. But I had no guidance in how I was supposed to get there. Schools talk about date rape and diseases, not seduction and relationship maintenance.

And then Craigslist has a whole category CALLED "Casual Encounters," implying that there are so many people who want one that it's worth one's time to post an ad. You wouldn't know from reading all the pages whether the ads are working or not (though I have my guess).