Quote: (04-04-2019 09:15 PM)The Lizard of Oz Wrote:
This thread is an outrage.
Just tonight I had the girl I've been fucking for the last several months over to my place for the last time (she is moving to another part of the country on Saturday). She is a true 7, in a strict and proper estimation of value; my grades in this regard have a terrible precision and allow not an ounce of inflation or deflation. A white/Latina blend who just turned 24 last week, she is 5'6'', has a pretty/plain face, a little small; a slim light-olive skinned body with small breasts and a flat stomach; and a perfect juicy ass, an ass that as she wonderingly told me "just sprouted one summer", neither too large nor too small, an ass that takes to its Lululemon like a happy fish to water but that looks deadliest encased in simple tight blue jeans. When she bent over my dining table I had her pull down those jeans and her LOVE/PINK blue panties more slowly than she'd ever done it, slowly to the point of idiocy -- and then she couldn't wait anymore and just pulled it all down in one motion.
Later when she was sucking on her knees -- she never quite learned how to do that perfectly, fucking bitch -- and sticking her ass out in front of the mirror; and later still, when I was fucking her from behind in strictest doggy in an intensely lit bedroom on the California king covered with a plain white sheet -- I gasped, repeatedly, looking at that ass, sometimes stock still and sometimes wiggling; I could not believe and still refuse to believe how sweet it was: how simple, plain and sweet. I was not sad that I was seeing her for the last time, only hungrier and hornier than ever; I determined that the last time would be the very best and I would come the very hardest I ever had with her -- and so it was. It is a very great privilege in life when something good ends on its highest note, the highest that it's capable of within the scope of its possibilities and limitations.
I had no intention whatsoever of mentioning the experience to anyone, let alone in writing -- it is not particularly the sort of thing that can be rewardingly shared. But the darkness of this thread demands a response, so this is my response: "sex" (the very word looks and feels terrible in the mouths of those who, for whatever reason, do not love life) does not "mean nothing"; it it one of the great and strong pleasures, one of the ways to take the measure of life and taste it to a depth. Any man who feels otherwise has fallen out of love with life itself, and he should set aside the inanity of his mere ideas -- whatever they are, and however hard-earned he imagines them to be -- and step back from the death-in-life into which he has somehow blundered. He should go out and sit on a wooden bench some spring day, his mind blank, a big soft drink in his hand -- just sit there like an old man, until a girl with the simplest, sweetest ass in shorts passes him by; he should look at it then and remember with a start what it was that was always in front of his face.
There's a difference between petty sex with some slut and sex with a girl who you have an authentic interest in. It's not just how sexy the girl is or how good she is in bed, it's how much of a connection you actually had with them.
Some of the best times of my life were having sex with girls I was enamoured with. Sex in and of itself is not inherently good or bad. You could draw the same analogy with psychedelics - the set and setting determine the experience, not the drug itself.