All these whips and shackles and plastic sheeting present a very high maintenance view of my sexual countenance. I in fact have heard numerous times:
"Can you get off without all the gear and rigmarole?"
My immediate snide and sarcastic response would usually be,"Why would i want to?" And largely, that is true. I'm one who feels that this here world offers only so many opportunities for us to explore, expand and expedite these bodies we have - why waste them by first questioning my appetites and then follow that by not listening to them?
But, i recognize that by choosing a semi-public persona as established by this site i have a responsibility to my readers to be more forthcoming than the brash idiot above who rigidly rejects any deviation from his trajectory. For this reason, i feel the need to put to rest any notions out there that anyone might have of me constantly needing some level of SM-related paraphernalia or protocol in order for me to find my arousal. Certainly, painted upon the walls of my identity, my sexual graffiti has often come from the spraycans of a sadist. But, boy, if i'm not about the biggest romantic sap out there. Folks, let me tell you, i cry at sentimental scenes in romantic movies where the two characters come to the final realization that they'd found...the one.
The very same operates in my own life. My girl has the ability to arrest my heart with just a glance, a gesture, or even a passing image of her getting ready in the bathroom mirror as i prance down the hallway. I have often told her that (okay blamed her for them) i'm easy, and it doesn't take much to arouse me, to get me erect. I offer this warning to her both as a warning but also as an invitation to continue with her current behavior, because after a certain point, she will not have a choice as to the outcome.
Just this morning, we were sharing our morning ritual of coffee and breakfast on the couch. We were chatting about the upcoming day's events, and then suddenly, she leaned in and gave me the slightest, most tender and invigorating kiss on the lips. These were the jumper cables to my idle engine, the spark igniting a desire for more. We continued to kiss. Her lips pushing into mine as if they might merge, and before too long, i'd reached a point where there was only one possible discourse. I moved us to the bedroom, and proceeded to stretch that kiss into a long, dwindling crescendo of sexual intercourse.
For this moment, there was no power exchange. Just an unabiding, rapid and hasty race to become one. One. One. One.