Word for Wednesday – Hedonism

Hedonism

/ˈhiːdəˌnɪzəm; ˈhɛd-/
noun
  1. Ethics
    (a) the doctrine that moral value can be defined in terms of pleasure
    (b) the doctrine that the pursuit of pleasure is the highest good
  2. the pursuit of pleasure as a matter of principle
  3. indulgence in sensual pleasures

I am a sensualist. When it comes to sex, I am all about the senses; the more the senses are involved, the more intense the experience.

Sight
Men are, apparently, visual creatures. I am no exception. I’m not just talking about the enjoyment of seeing my partner naked; although that is part of it. It’s about seeing their reactions. How a certain touch makes them respond. The involuntary twitches/flinched, the changes in their expression; it’s a form of visual feedback that is, in itself, a rewarding experience.

Wicked WednesdaySound
Sound is such a strong sensual element of sex. There are the sounds your partner makes; the moans, the gasps, the sighs, the verbal tics that demonstrate their pleasure. There are the sounds of leather striking skin, the sounds of the bed protesting beneath us, the sounds of two bodies moving together in a sexual collision. Then there’s the sounds of orgasm itself; mine and, more importantly, hers. It is the confirmation that I have taken her to that highest plane of pleasure.

Scent
I am anosmic. Not fully so, but my sense of smell is very weak. It is still an important sense. When I’m going down on a woman, her scent combines with her taste, making my enjoyment of this particular activity even stronger.

Touch
I am extremely tactile. I love touching and being touched. I love the feel of my partner’s skin against mine. But it’s also about how my partner responds to my touch. How she reacts as I touch her nipples, how wet she gets as I slide my fingers into her, the sensations as her lips slide along my cock. Then there is that wonderful feeling as her wet warmth surrounds my hardness; the insides of her thighs rubbing against the oustides of mine as our bodies move together.

Taste
From the taste of her perspiration on her skin, to the sweet richness of her juices as I lick her, taste is a deep sensual experience. When I’m face down between her thighs, I can gauge her arousal from her flavour.

Each sense provides its own sensations, it’s own element of the overall experience. For a sensualist like me, the more the senses are engaged, the higher the arousal, the deeper the pleasure and the fuller the enjoyment.

ZeN

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Word for Wednesday – Reflection

Reflection

/rɪˈflɛkʃən/
noun
  1. the act of reflecting or the state of being reflected
  2. careful or long consideration or thought

Reflection is almost inevitable at this time of year. We look back at the things that have happened and how they have affected us. We look forward to the coming year and what might be for both good and bad.

The start of the year, although completely arbitrary, is almost by default, a time of reflection.

In my last post of 2017, I looked back at the highs I had in terms of my return to blogging. In this, my first post of 2018, my thoughts turn, as they often do, to the topic of mental health.

Helpful Numbers #MentalHealthLike many people, I find the festive period particularly difficult. I won’t bore you with my specific reasons, but suffice to say that by the time the end of the holiday period finally rolls around, I am more than happy to see the back of it. It is the one holiday that simply through the sheer effort of enduring it, leaves me more worn out and exhausted, mentally, physically and spiritually at its end than I was at its beginning.

I mentioned before, that I do not suffer from Seasonally Affected Disorder, but perhaps it would be more accurate to say that there is a very specific “season” that I find particularly hard to bear.

Every year, somewhere between Christmas Day and New Year’s Day, I make a conscious decision whether or not I carry on. In doing so, I make a positive affirmation that, having made it through the year just gone by, I will give it my best endeavours to make it to the end of the year that is to come. It isn’t a promise; it is simply a statement of what I intend to achieve. If I manage to achieve anything else between now and the end of 2018 then that is a bonus. The only resolution I ever set myself is that I try not to spend every day of the forthcoming year regretting the decision I have made.

This has not been a very positive post; mainly because I am not in a very positive place. For me it is the time of my darkest reflections.

ZeN

My Belt

Wicked WednesdayThe crack it makes as I snap he ends together. The way you flinch with anticipation and apprehension at the sound. The soft, unblemished skin that has yet to feel its kiss.

The whistle in the air as it swings on its path. The way you tense as you wait for its contact. The mounting yearning for its stinging caress.

The drawn out moment as you wait to feel it. The unbearable slowness of the passage of time. The movement of the air as it approaches.

The resounding smack as it bites your skin. The mix of pain and pleasure as you cry out at its touch. The deepening crimson glow that marks its path.

The increasing heat and pain with every stroke. The intense arousal each kiss ignites. The relief that comes from knowing you’ve endured the final lash.

ZeN

Comparative Reality

Wicked WednesdayWhere does truth end and fiction begin?

I read this post  by the wonderful Girl on The Net recently, and if you haven’t read it, I can’t recommend strongly enough that you do so.

No.

Seriously.

Stop reading this and go and read her post, then if you can be arsed, you can come back here and finish reading this drivel.

Now, as anyone who follows her knows, GoTN. unlike me, is a woman and she writes freely about her sex life. If you have now read the post, you will have got the fact that while she writes honestly, she may, sometimes inadvertently, sometimes deliberately, change certain things and/or leave certain details out.  Does that make what she writes any less true? I don’t think so. And, after all, if she hadn’t told us, we’d all be none the wiser.

Now me, on the other hand, I dress things up. Yes, I can happily ramble on giving you my opinions (whether you want them or not) on everything from pubic hair, to why I enjoy cunnilingus, to why I will never give you a mark out of 10 for your blow-job skills, but when it comes to actual sex; actual people actually fucking, I mostly resort to writing fiction.

Now, I do happen to say on my stories site:

My writing is a mixture of experience and imagination in varying proportions.

And this is true. Well, kind of…

Some of my stories actually do correspond pretty closely to actual events. In others, the sex may be based on an actual shag, but I’ve changed the setting or the circumstances that led to it. In others, the sex scenes may be a distillation of the memories of a number of different shags, possibly with different partners, but I have chosen to weave them into one story, one scene.

And, of course, because it’s fiction, no one ever breaks wind when they roll over, the protagonists never spend 5 minutes swearing at each other because her hair has caught in his watch strap, no one ever accidentally gets elbowed or kneed somewhere painful as positions are changed, or gets a dead arm from lying in one position for too long supporting the weight of both partners.

In fiction, even when based on reality, the sex is idealised.

Some sex writers may include such details when regaling us with their real life exploits and adventures. GoTN is wonderfully frank in her writing, and does sometime choose to share snippets of such sex “fails” with us; but if she never alluded to them, would that make her “stories” any less true? In my opinion no. It might make them slightly less funny on occasion, but it doesn’t change the underlying event, in the same way that watching the Match Of The Day highlights doesn’t change the final score.

So, “truth” is true, and fiction can contain truth even when it’s not entirely true. Is one form of writing better than the other? I don’t think so. Even when not related to sex, I enjoy reading non-fiction as much as I enjoy reading fiction. It’s all down to the taste of the reader and the style (or lack thereof in the case of your truly) of the writer.

The truth can sometimes be stranger than fiction, but it can also be closely intertwined with it too.

ZeN

PS: The book that inspired this was, of course “How a Bad Girl Fell In Love” by none other than Girl on the Net herself.

Time & Distance

Wicked WednesdayIt starts, as it so often does, with an early morning text message. It’s not even a particularly naughty one; often no more than a “Good morning” or “Did you sleep well?” The scene, however, is already set.

As the morning progresses, the level of suggestion in the exchanged messages deepen.  Selected pins from Pinterest are used to convey desire, to express what is being felt, to emphasis what we would do if we weren’t miles apart, if the hours instantly passed and we were together.

The ante is upped as the quotes make way for the images from Tumblr; each one that little bit more explicit, more graphic than the last, each one a statement of intent.

As the day progresses we tease and arouse and seduce each other with words and images. She knows I long to taste her, to lick her and feast on her until she cums hard on the tip of my tongue. I know she wants to take me in her mouth, to lick and suck that part of me that she has made so hard.

We both know what we want and need, and that is each other; skin against skin, our lips pressed together, me inside her, our bodies joined.

As the clock ticks down the minutes of the last hour of separation we enter the calm before the storm.

My phone flashes. “I’m home” it reads.

“On my way” I reply.

“Let yourself in, I’m waiting for you…”

ZeN

Word for Wednesday – Sensualism

Sensualism

/ˈsɛnsjʊəˌlɪzəm/
noun

  1. the quality or state of being sensual

When it comes to sex, I am all about the senses; the sounds, the feelings, the scents, the scenes and the tastes. Great sex combines each of these; taking those essential building blocks and building them into a whole that is so much more than their sum.

Humans are a visual species, and it is fair to say that what we see is what initially attracts us to another person. We each have our own measure of the qualities that we find visually appealing in a potential partner.

Vision, however goes much deeper than that. They is the voyeuristic pleasure of watching your partner arouse and pleasure themselves. There is the joy that comes from watching their response to your attentions; the involuntary twitches and shakes, the changes of expression, the sinuous arching of their backs as the pleasure builds within them.

Wicked Wednesday
I am, by my own admission, an extremely tactile person. I love touch and I loved to be touched. I love the feel of a partner’s skin, soft and warm, against mine. I love the feel of their body under my fingertips and under my lips. I love the feel of theirs on mine; the warmth of her mouth as it encircles my cock and the soft heat of her cunt as I move inside her.

And then their is taste. The taste of her skin as I explore with lips. The intense flavour of her cunt as I feast on her. The subtle changes in flavour as her arousal grows, the sharp sweetness of her climax on my tongue.

Sound also plays its part, intensifying and amplifying every action. Her moans as I lick her, that sigh as I thrust slowly into her, filling her for the first time. There’s the sounds of skin on skin as our bodies move together. Sometimes the sound of leather on skin as my belt kisses her flesh. The sound of the bed beneath us adding to every movement, every squirm, every thrust.

Sex is so much more than just a physical pleasure. It engages all of the senses to become an emotional canvas on which we paint our desires.

That is the essence of sensualism; the surrendering to the full spectrum of experience.

ZeN

Word for Wednesday – Dispassionate

Dispassionate

/dɪsˈpæʃənɪt/
adjective

  1. devoid of or uninfluenced by emotion or prejudice; objective; impartial

My daily job is one that requires me to be objective and impartial. I go to great lengths not to prejudge and to weigh up the evidence in front of me before I make a decision. On Saturdays, on the rugby field, I have to make those decisions instantly and without hesitation, applying the laws of the game fairly and consistently.

However, for this post, I am concentrating on the “devoid of or uninfluenced by emotion” part.

As is the case with so many of us who struggle with mental illness, I tend to wear a mask in my day-to-day dealing with my fellow humans. It is a mask that I tend to keep very firmly fixed in place.

To the outside world, it does perhaps seem that I am without emotion, cold, reserved, withdrawn.

It is also true that I am not particularly given to, or indeed comfortable with, public displays of emotion. I have a tendency to have a vey fixed demeanour in the company of other.

The dispassionate mask is, however, simply that; a mask. Far from being devoid of emotion, it hides a seething mass that lies just below the surface; a constant turmoil that threatens to boil over at the slightest provocation.

The absence of appearance of emotion and the absence of emotions themselves are two very separate things.

ZeN

Talking Dirty

#MasturbationMondayTRIGGER WARNING: This post will probably make me sound like a massive bellend/pious twat.

Filthy…

Dirty…

Illicit…

Sinful…

Wicked…

Bad…

All words that are frequently used to describe aspects of sex. Also words that are used in the names of some of my favourite blogs and blogging memes; blogs and memes that promote body/image/sex positivity.

Yet, despite all the good things about these, I have one niggling problem them; the names.

Now, I must emphasise that I am not having a go at the bloggers and writers involved. The problem isn’t with their blogs, or what they write, or the photos they post. After all, I participate in these memes, posting both my writing and photos. My problem is with the language. Not the language used by my fellow bloggers/writers you understand, just the language that has grown up around sex itself.

Now, when it comes to writing about sex, I am as “guilty” as everyone else; I describe it as dirty/filthy/naughty/etc. The problem is, the negative connotations of these words goes against the sex positive message we try to put forward. Somehow, while on the one hand seeming entirely apt, they also reinforce the message that there is something wrong with sex; that somehow we should feel shame for enjoying it and the pleasure it brings us.

And yet…

And yet, the use of such words is partially what makes it so much fun; it makes it seem like we’re doing something we really shouldn’t. Which is, of course bollocks. Of course we should be doing it. If we didn’t, none of us would be here to discuss it. And since we should be doing it, it only seems right that we should also enjoy it.

On the one hand it is great that the sex positive community is attempting to “reclaim” these words and make them positive but, on the other hand, are we not further entrenching the idea of “wrongness” about sex by doing so.

It’s a quandary. No less so because there are no “positive” words in our language that have the same delicious (ok, so there’s one) feel to them when describing the act. There is something primal and satisfying about words such as fuck, cock, cunt; it is their power to shock that illicits such strong emotions and feelings, and what would sex be without those.

So we are stuck with the bizarre juxtaposition that, while proclaiming to the world that sex is good, wholesome, healthy, natural fun, we do so by describing it as dirty, filthy, naughty, bad.

This is a bit of a rambling diatribe. I wish I had a satisfying conclusion (pun intended) to raise. I wish I didn’t sound like a complete berk. Are we right to be wrong, or is wrong being right? I don’t know, I really don’t.

It’s a contradiction, and one that everyone who writes positively about sex faces, but it’s the use of such language that makes our particular genre (and indeed, the act itself) so enjoyable.

What can I say? Sometimes humans baffle me.

ZeN

Word for Wednesday – Dissociation

Dissociation

/dɪˌsəʊsɪˈeɪʃən; -ʃɪ-/
noun

  1. the act of dissociating or the state of being dissociated

It’s one of those strange feelings that, I suspect, many of us who suffer from depression and other forms of mental illness experience. It is an odd feeling of being separated from one’s self. It’s as though there is an actual gap between our spirit and our physical selves; a feeling that we don’t fully fill our physical bodies.

It’s an oddly disconnected feeling; that somewhere between my skin and my soul there is a black void of nothingness. It’s as if I am lost within a hollowed out shell of my own being.

It is a form of detachment. Not of detachment from the outside world, which is all too common an experience, but a detachment of spirit and body, where the former retreats into the darkest recesses of the latter to hide away and lick its wounds.

ZeN

You’ll Never Walk Alone

In recognition of today being World Mental Health Day, I thought it appropriate to share this beautiful song, whose lyrics always serve to remind me that I am not on this journey on my own.

When you walk through a storm
Hold your head up high
And don’t be afraid of the dark
At the end of a storm
There’s a golden sky
And the sweet silver song of a lark
Walk on through the wind
Walk on through the rain
Though your dreams be tossed and blown
Walk on, walk on
With hope in your heart
And you’ll never walk alone
You’ll never walk alone
Walk on, walk on
With hope in your heart
And you’ll never walk alone
You’ll never walk alone
– Oscar Hammerstein/Richard Rodgers

ZeN