Sex is a soccer field
So I have to admit that every time I meet a woman, at some point the thought, however briefly; flashes through my mind. " What would it be like to fuck that". It just doesn't matter. Shudder or quiver I have to think it. Sometimes I don't dwell more that a nano-second on the answer, which can be merciful or a missed sensual immersion in my imagination. Positive, negative, curiosity, I just know it flashes by. Then I go back to my normal rational self and transact business with and deal with the person on the level necessary to handle the commerce at hand. Treating the person I was dealing with in a manner fitting for the occasion, I hope. But has that momentary thought tainted the intercourse.
Like being on a huge soccer field, only with hundreds of defense people. All giving me reasons why that wouldn't be a good idea. Learned morality from society, religious indoctrination, my mother warning me that I don't know where they have been.
Maybe I have a few teammates. Memories from the seventies when the attitude seemed more permissive, and I was much younger and hornier. Then AIDS slobbering maw appeared and nipped that irrational sexual exuberance in the bud. You never knew where those women had been, and prevailing wisdom was , bunking down with one you were bunking down with all her former partners. The great disease infested Bacchanal of pass the STD's please, and don't Bogart. Longe term relationships looked good.
So the 73 to 84 relationship ended as many did, young , in love, out grow and go your own way. since not being married, I admit there was soom extranious activity of the prurient sort, but mostly mongamious. The four year hiadus and boycott of the long term relationshpis led to quite a few fondly remembered romps, but career was my focus, and focus I did. Then in 89 fall, married, and spawned. Throughout I never strayed. Certainly the "What would it be like..." thought was always there, but never any plan to act.
My other teammates will tell me that everybody else is out there fucking. Hell. Just look at the huge amount of porn on the internet. All sorts of people are doing all sorts of things on cameras and posting this on the internet. Who are these people. Most important, Where are these people? And with such a plethora of people willing to do it on screen, there just has to be a gazzillion willing to cut loose in private. The shear volume of content means they have to be some where.Sure some of them are getting paid. Maybe even some are being ruthlessly exploited. I assuage my guilt there by knowing I only have knowledge of this from the free clips offered on countless web pages. I am to cheap and broke to even consider paying for such stuff. It only promotes the temptation for exploitation. But I know there must be a large segment that has forked over the dough to access this stuff in it's full regalia. Other wise it would not be there.
Also, despite the early indoctrination from the fifties, I now know the startling truth. Women like to fuck too. Epiphany. So now I blush. Every time I see a woman and she see's me. I know there is that immediate transactional analysis going on on both sides of our windows to the soul. An incredible speed date sort of transactional analysis. Just waiting for the moment akin to "The Price is Right" when both sides of the equation balance out. Ding Ding Ding. The bid price matches the actual price. You've won a roll in the hay. The ultimate Field of Dreams.
Now I have skulked into randy old goat territory, bordering on geezer, I know is I need to get a new accountant, because my columns balance way to infrequently. I guess I will always be having to go the Long Term Relationship route to satisfy the demands of my D.N.A. No cash transactions for me. Always the Buy Now Pay Later transaction model. I am painfully aware that like all credit transactions that means you have to pay and pay and pay.
Somewhere buried in that debt I know I am still paying interest on the bar tab that won me that first post divorce blow job and frenzied fuck in my motel room for the weekend out of house experience. But it does still make me smile. Best thing about divorce is getting to enjoy new women and their strange ways. nothing like tearing off a bit of strange again when you had resolved to honor those vows you made in the ultimate property and wealth preservation contract called marriage. Viva La Difference !
But every so often, when I amke it past all those player that have joined up on my sexual reppression team, with the few teamates rooting me on, I do get to below that wonerful word at the moment of orgasm.