Expanding Whorizons

I love that feeling when I’ve just gotten a haircut, the way my hair bristles when I stroke my hand up the back of my head. So soft to the touch. I imagine it’s your hand. I imagine you’re touching me with affection. I imagine the contented feelings it would bring. I imagine leaning into you, while you gently stroke my hair. Sex has always been about approval to me. Undoubtedly, a therapist might have something to say about that. Sex is never just about my pleasure – hell, if I wanted to feel good, I know how to do that. For me sex is as much, no more, about the pleasure I can bring someone else. Yes, it’s about approval, but it’s also gaining a sense of pleasure, and accomplishment, in having your partner enjoy what you’re doing. Sex is not just about the dick, the cock, the junk. It’s about the touch, the caress, the kiss. Hard to be a died-in-the-wool sensualist and not have it come across as romantic. Sex has also always been about losing myself in the moment. That would be...

It dawned on me last evening just how much I’d been shirking my responsibilities both in terms of my blog, and the exploration that premeditated it. To that end I submit the following. Clearly it had been a while since I’d opened the toy box. I was a bit concerned – not sure why. Perhaps I had this thought that, without practice, I’d be starting from scratch – so to speak. I admit that the experience was a bit challenging. I spent the day out with a friend, first wandering the shopping district of a small town near us, then wandering the campus of my alma mater. Not sure what really drove me to visit my college, other than proximity. It was a beautiful albeit hot day. I feel like I got a good workout. I dropped my friend off at his place, and decided that I needed to take some time for me. Not sure where my head has been, but it’s not been in an experimental or a sexual mood. I tried to put that behind me, and opened the drawer in which I’ve taken to keeping my toys. I chose a ...