LOVELY EROTIC SHOCKS
[Written between Saturday, May 27th and Saturday, June 3rd, 2023]
“So… like… what are your sexual fantasies,” she asked.
She was the first woman ever to ask him this question in his thirty seven years of life up to that point. There was something shocking about it. Blissfully shocking. Excitingly shocking. His penis awakened from deep sleep and a sort of rut, simply courtesy of the great jolt he felt in response to her enquiry. Like the first time a woman performed fellatio on him and really seemed to want to do it and seemed to enjoy giving him that pleasure. Like the first time he French kissed a girl. He was 15 at that time, at a school dance with a girl who seemingly randomly asked him to go with her (they didn’t know each other remarkably well before hand; they had a few classes together but were not quite friends. They had a few conversations on AOL Instant Messenger but they were pretty brief and sensationless discourses)… and she just…kissed him…her tongue swam and slipped….through….the lips.… into the mouth…the first tongue he ever felt, tasted…(ah, how he missed a woman’s tongue…) He never expected a French kiss from any girl, sadly…he never imagined it possible…the French kiss, the oral sex, or rather, he was only able to imagine these things as possible in the sense of hoping, even if only on a very implicit and subconscious but nonetheless intentional level, that such things could be possible (because you must keep in mind, in those days, he hadn’t yet learned about ideas such as infinite possibility in the context of quantum physics.)
One of the greatest erotic shocks was the development of his sexual relationship with X. While in hindsight he and X had serious co-dependency and anger and depression and anxiety issues, the sex was epic as fuck.
Where hadn’t they banged?…Ah, he felt a tinge of nostalgia, recalling when they’d play in her car during their joyrides (oh they were joy rides alright!)…X driving, asking him to put his hands between her legs, to tease her thighs with his fingers, put his hands into her shorts, into her panties…feel her wetness and rub a little of the wetness on her skin…. ah yes….and they could go for quite awhile too…sometimes they would look back at those forty minute fuck sessions with gratitude and even some awe…how had he lasted forty minutes without ejaculating?…. with such ferocious fucking? And considering he thought she was so hot…(she felt the same way about him)…
This was in contrast to lonely masturbation episodes in his later years where he would only be able to prevent orgasm for like…five minutes; what had his beloved sexuality regressed into? What saddened and frustrated him more? That he couldn’t seem to find a woman he wanted to fuck who also wanted to fuck him, or that he felt so inadequate in his sexual performance with himself? Well, that might be how he was framing it. Another way we might put it: he was in the midst of a serious workaholic phase and treating himself to more than five minutes of pleasure made him feel guilty — not because he was masturbating and doing something dirty but because he had money to make. Speaking of the question concerning his sexual fantasies, in this context, he began wishing he was a professional porn star so that he could make a lot of money and have a lot of sex.
