the reality
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Posted:May 24, 2007 3:52 am
Last Updated:Jun 26, 2007 10:14 am
10213 Views
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This was a response that I sent to someone who wanted me to be with them to cheat on their partner, and it grew into a cohesive sex manifesto for this moment in my life.
I'm single, and that's by choice.
I am holding out for the right person to love and give myself to. It's become very clear to me in the past year or so, that I want a family, and that moving toward that goal means choosing my partners carefully, and going through the pain of loneliness, rather than opening myself to emotional entanglements that will just eat my time and energy.
Until then, if I'm going to have casual sex, then it's with others who are playing in responsible ways, and who understand that sex and emotions are linked.
I feel that it's impossible to have good sex without letting ourselves be vulnerable, and having random sex with strangers isn't going to set up that dynamic.
I believe that "writing the self" is a pathway to finding the self. I'm in the process of redefining my view of intimacy. 3 months ago, this might be a different post.
I've heard a lot of men say that most of the women on this site are crazy or fake, but I am one of the most real and sane people you'll ever know.
I'm not going anywhere near a bedroom with anyone unless I'm sure that my partner's energy and intentions are pure. I love myself too much to be entangled in something unhealthy or messy. In the meantime, I'm maintaining this membership month-to month, to get my kicks, and to gain a better understanding of what makes people tick.
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third person shift
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Posted:Mar 25, 2007 7:16 pm
Last Updated:Aug 30, 2014 5:15 pm
10463 Views
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Like sweet, ripe fruit with soft spots forming, the armor my heart wears starts to give way.
Sandpaper sugar warmth in the dark of small morning, and the tough, tough, tough girl is an open maw.
How?
How is it really so that someone can fit so perfectly, like jigsaw shapes?
How is it so that the garden walls we scale so easily together are so high when we step away?
Torture.
The dreams that were handed to me with my first baby doll in bride's clothes come rushing back in post-coital deja vu...
It seems essential to remember that I was only three feet tall then.
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princess
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Posted:Mar 23, 2007 4:13 am
Last Updated:Aug 30, 2014 5:17 pm
10686 Views
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I wonder sometimes why it's so hard for men to know how to treat a lady? Yes, those are pictures of my body. No, I'm not wearing much clothing. It's not as if I walk around in stockings and garters, eating bonbons and drinking champagne all the time. I work hard, I work out obsessively. I struggle to balance my time between things things I must do, and the things I want to do.
Recently, I had someone contact me and ask to just meet to fuck.
Come on.
If we can't sit down and have a conversation over a cup of coffee before anything else, do you really think the sex will be that good?
I'm a complicated woman, and the paths to my arousal are for experienced travelers only. I have real desires, and a need for intellectual stimulation. If I meet someone who turns me on, I'll want to meet them again. If we're talking about what we like to do, then the chances of us doing those things increase. Right?
I don't suffer fools, and I lose patience quickly when I feel pressured.
Word to the wise- if you're a man and you're attracted to me, think about all the things that make a woman feel wanted, and do them before expecting me to get naked with you.
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between the rafters
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Posted:Mar 16, 2007 11:19 am
Last Updated:Aug 30, 2014 5:19 pm
10272 Views
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You felt like warm velvet and dark dreams.
Your root muscles tensing, opening, like pupils in strobe lights. Warm, wet spring night, with air that clung like damp blankets. I remember all the ones who turned away from this naked emotion, this intensity, and I love you for being the one who has no fear.
If I could wrap you up in rice paper, I would keep you near my teeth, inside my cheek. I would take you out and play with you in inappropriate situations. I would press your buttons, program your responses, rend you wide, engulf your core.
I would nourish myself on your fluids, and peel oranges for you in bed. I would feed you moonlight and grave-dirt, and wear you proudly, like stripes.
I imagine myself by your side, at your feet, inside you, looking down from above. I imagine you painted black and shiny, my own perfect jewel.
It's white hell out there, today, and all I can think of is you.
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reality check
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Posted:Feb 22, 2007 4:06 am
Last Updated:Aug 30, 2014 5:21 pm
10680 Views
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When you meet someone with an identical set of turn-ons, a perfectly compatible body, and a lifestyle that matches your own, isn't it a natural progression to want to move toward intimacy?
The world really should work that way, but when ghosts from the past come into the fold, the possibility of more becomes clouded.
We've all been hurt. We've all fallen for the wrong person, or had timing blow our hopes away. Arenas like this one are safe spaces. We can look, reach out, connect, with very little emotional investment. And when your fingertips brush the very thing you want most, when they find momentary purchase in silky skin, perfect scent, soft lips, it's almost as if it were real.
It's too easy to forget the way things used to go. The key points that set the other times apart, the in-the-flesh, real-life, risk taking, the extended flirtation, the familiarity of proximity and build up are elements that become escalated here. This can be confusing. The website asks us to have a certain number of messages before we open the door to reality. Our minds sometimes lose sight of the difference. The body doesn't care. In fact, it prefers to use shorthand. To skip the difficult parts and move straight to the fucking satisfies like free money. When one finds one's self in the arms of a stranger, or with a pocketful of unearned cash, is the validity of hard work there? Is it needed?
In this world, at this moment, for some of us, the lack is clearly defined. Which is not to say that I would pass up a windfall, just that it may not ever feel like it's mine.
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Calling out sick
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Posted:Feb 13, 2007 11:13 am
Last Updated:Jan 29, 2008 8:42 pm
10110 Views
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I woke up with a rotten cold. In the spaces between foggy sleep, I've logged in and gotten off 3 times today. Completely different members are on while I'm at work. Wow.
Who knew that being sick could be so much fun?
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step into the light
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Posted:Feb 6, 2007 3:55 am
Last Updated:Aug 30, 2014 5:23 pm
10965 Views
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Why is it that we all feel the need to hide?
I respect the men on this site who have figured out that a face picture will get more responses. It takes a lot of guts to put yourself out there in that way. God forbid, someone who knows you might find out that you like sex! Especially when the only way they'd know involves them being on this site, too.
This repression, in my opinion, is one of the primary problems with this society. We buy products that are advertised in sexy ways, we watch celebrities who express themselves sexually, we are obsessed with anything freaky that pops up in the news. Why is it so difficult to just admit that we are carnal beings?
Denial of the corporeal experience is the primary feature of white, western systems of control. Do we really want to buy it all?
Now, I'm pretty rebellious, but you'll note the lack of face pictures on my profile.
Does this make me a hypocrite? I don't think so.
A recent conversation with a very beautiful man helped to crystallize my reasons for this. We talked about how, as attractive people, if our drives and desires were out in the open all the time, we'd be reduced to the lowest common denominator.
That's the problem. In this country, at this moment in time, sex is like the carrot dangled in front of us. We keep twisting ourselves in knots trying to get closer to it. When someone enters the equation with a basket full of carrots, they become known as... the person with the carrots!
I love sex. I have a lot of it, but I don't post a face picture, because I would like to be recognized as more than the woman who likes sex. I have a well-developed sense of self, and while sex takes up a fair amount of my mental space, it's not the only thing I want to be known for doing.
This is not to say that I don't enjoy a certain amount of objectification in the heat of the moment, but to start off on that foot is asking for trouble.
Now, to reiterate- men post face pics to put women at ease. They run the risk of social stigma, but the desire for connection is strong enough for them to take that chance.
Very few women use this site, and if they do, even fewer show their faces. To do so could make them vulnerable to social violence, as well as more concrete forms of violence.
There's something wrong, people.
I yearn for a society, where sex is nothing to be ashamed of, and isn't used as a tool to control our minds and censor our lives.
Desert island, anyone?
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marionette
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Posted:Jan 29, 2007 8:12 pm
Last Updated:Mar 30, 2007 3:47 am
8574 Views
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This is the first blog I've made specifically to chronicle visceral memories, wet dreams and the explosion of sexual myth.
I've kept several blogs for many years, but none of them have been the right place for some of the things that I've got on my mind.
Different audiences, as it were. Or maybe not. Maybe the "normal" people who read my words in more mainstream forums are here too- cock in hand, panties wet, wondering about the face above the latex?
Suspended, arms outstretched, in pornographic yoga, a complete release of holding.
Objectified, canonized, torn apart at the seams, absolute beauty shines through streaks and droplets.
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To link to this blog (lasiren) use [blog lasiren] in your messages.
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