© Chris Courtney Photography

somethings are worth the effort

An excerpt from FetLife

I think I've just read the last 'I'm just looking for fun, no drama, lol' profile that has broken this camel's back. Maybe the ‘just looking for fun, no drama, lol,’ people are tourists in the world of deviance, non-monogamy and kink, maybe that’s why it feels like such an affront to me to read those profiles after getting the crude or disrespectful messages that come with them.

Maybe admitting that our salvation is found in flesh is too difficult to admit out loud in civilised language. Maybe admitting that we crave unconventional sex in unconventional ways, not in spite of but because of, our predilections is too much to face. Or maybe it’s just me. Maybe I take this all too seriously. Maybe it's too much that I demand sex not be demeaning or I not be demeaned or diminished in relation to it. I'm really not someone who needs to have 'all my holes filled with your cum,' I do however, love to be taken long and hard analy and I relish using my tongue on your cock or her clit to great effect. (Just proving a point, really.)

I listen to people who are particular about their coffee, their music, and their sport. People who put effort into seemingly inconsequential things – but of course those things are of consequence to them. Some people even make a show of that effort to prove that they are special and have special tastes. Is it because those things are inanimate? Do people down play the effort of meeting potential sexual partners in order to maintain boundaries and distances? Why put less effort into approaching me than you would put effort into ordering  a cup of tea?

When you say you don’t want drama, what you mean is you don’t want any hassle from me. You want my body and the pleasures of it but not the hassles of my being. You want my flesh but not the life and breath that surrounds it – and when you’ve had your fill, you’ll be done with me. Until you want more – if you want more – because ‘no drama,’ is also code for ‘only on my terms.’

I watch people get dramatic over matches and politics and their finances, but they don’t want to be bothered by my mood when pursuing the one thing that makes life worth living. If our sexual lives aren’t the pinnacle of everything we work for and put up with, what is? For some it might be love, but if that were the case something tells me you wouldn’t be on a site like this reading random musings from someone like me.

Does my ‘drama’ somehow mar your sex drive? Is it impossible to see me and deal with me as a human being to give and take pleasure from? Can I not be a human subject and a sexual object to you in the same night? Do you not see that your sexual pleasure is an extension of my drama? I would not look as lovely before you on my knees if you don’t know the drama that surrounds me. And there is precedent for the myth that crazy girls are great to fuck. Putting up with a little drama is well worth the experience, but telling me you don’t want my drama is like me telling you I don’t want your balls or I don’t want your breasts. It’s part of the package, you can’t get rid of it and if you learn how to play with it, we’ll both get a lot more out of the experience.

This is a matter of taste, but I don’t do one offs unless the sex is really bad and has no potential to get better. I also don’t do quickies or meet in the morning or during the day the first time out. Part of the experience is the anticipation. Part of it is the long ritual of getting ready. Part of it is the animal instincts that awaken in the dark of night. Part of it is the not knowing if, when or how. Part of it is the time it takes to seduce. Most of it is in the discovery – and it takes time to explore – especially with women. If you want to get my attention and make it happen, you at least have to bait the hook well.

Don’t get me wrong, I am not looking for an emotional connection or ‘romance,’ but I am looking for a physical chemistry, temptation, captivation. My body needs time to overcome the adrenaline block that instinctively wants me to run or wants me to hide. My nerves need time to take in your electricity, to feel your physical pulses and rhythms. My lungs need space to breathe you in. I need to smell, taste, savour all of you. I need to feel what your body wants and to discover how to respond to you.

I need to see how you watch me, what makes the light in your eyes flash or what makes your mouth water or slacken. I want to know what makes you lick your lips before you’ve even had the thought to taste. I long for those endless moments of not knowing where you end and I begin – and most importantly, I want time to stop as I’m penetrated for the first time – I want to luxuriate in the impalement and everything after. This doesn’t negate hard and fast or down and dirty – it just needs to matter more than anything else will matter for as long as it matters because it is the melding of two energies in a universe filled with empty space.

Even and especially, if there is deviance involved. Isn’t the rarity of the deviant act worth savouring for as long as it can possibly last? I just don’t see the point of fucking quickly or fucking at all if we both remain completely isolated from each other. If I want sex in isolation, I can masturbate to much better effect.

I find myself wondering why I always feel so rushed in this world, on this site. It’s as if we want to get through it rather than live in it. It doesn’t even seem to be about the release. It just feels like we’re not comfortable in our own skin, wanting what we want and doing what we do. So we rush, demean and diminish the awe of splendour of meeting a potential sexual partner.

I’ve delved into monogamy for almost  a year. It’s the first time I’ve knowingly chosen to be monogamous – and it revealed more to me than I ever expected to learn.

  1. It solidified for me how futile it is to make one person responsible for my sexual/romantic needs because temporal disappointments and rejections feel unnecessarily huge, and it puts far too much pressure and weight on one person to fulfill me.
  2. It has made me incredibly needy and ultimately pathetic. I’ve had to beg for attention, which I don’t do well - much as I’ve marveled at my lame attempts to get it. I’ve become addicted to attention in a way I have never even wanted before.
  3. Monogamy has made me feel special. So much so, it feels like I’m in a glass case I need to break out of. The thought of giving up that ‘specialness,’ even now after 6 or 7 weeks of not being with that person is almost too much for me – and this makes me realise that monogamy breeds a kind of sexual superiority that demeans my basic, lustful instincts.

The moment I let the next person touch me, I won’t be ‘special’ anymore. I will be used – and the fetish of seeming ‘purity’ will be smashed. It astonishes me that the lure of being special – which only exists in my mind – has outweighed the lure of being touched, of being in real physical communion with someone else – and that mostly comes down to this: none of the potential someone else’s have made me feel as special for putting out as this person made me feel special for staying locked inside. Think about that.

Some of us are programmed to feel special for being sexually stingy – which is ridiculous in this day and age – but being sexually generous is frowned upon, something to be ashamed of, something that others can use to shame me. The greatest gift I have in the world is my ability to bring pleasure out of myself and to give pleasure to others, and I’m set up to feel shame about that because the pleasure is sexual. I am not special but the sexual experiences I share with other are – even and sometimes especially when those experiences are with strangers or delve into extreme deviance.

If I cooked a meal to feed 20 people I would be a saint, but if I create an orgy where I sexually satisfy 20 people, I’m a whore among whores. And for those of us on this site that treat sex like an afterthought, a frivolity, a shallow, meaningless, almost contemptible transaction, we are deeming our own way of life and our own way of seeking and experiencing pleasure – which I think should be exalted as the highest of all human endeavours.

© Copyright Eurydice Rising