country matters. (what else?)

by dorarandom

in response to my v. v. enthusiastic email to my v. doctor i of course got a v. v. enthusiastic reply* and i was exhorted to share the story of my ‘beautiful experience’ in His Forum which i tried but couldn’t bring myself to do. because

  • that place depresses me;
  • i mean it depresses me extremely;
  • the goal there is to ‘acheive intimacy’ and not ‘get nailed by a guy you hardly know’;
  • (not that there’s anything wrong with either) (and not to say that the two are so distinct);
  • but i could not honestly say that it was a ‘beautiful experience’;
  • though i think it was much better than a ‘beautiful experience’, which frankly sounds horrible;
  • i was too thrilled to work; i felt like an anatomical miracle and a character from the old testament.

i’ve had a whole bunch more beautiful experiences since last monday, obviously. none of them hit me as hard as that first one, but none have been unpleasant. i haven’t gotten enough sleep but i rarely get enough anyway. i’ve gotten more exercise and i haven’t had to bother (hardly) with all that silicone and glass. and if i stick with the Gift Horse, i don’t know that i’ll have to bother much in future—especially because (oh irony!?!?) he’s got something like `delayed’ ejaculation.

apparently this will ‘improve’ as he begins to forego pornography and masturbate less. (a beautiful conversation. the lovely ‘so, if we’re together, i should masturbate less’ ‘and i should masturbate more’ exchange.) but again, i must admit, i believe i take more pleasure in a scene like this than a beautiful one. it’s plain, pragmatic, adult. functional. without agenda. honest. also. i am fascinated by the physiology! (….by the basic anatomy!) it was in fact LP saying that he ‘saved up’ for me for a week or so before i went to visit him that made me realize i had no idea what-the-fuck and made me question him in detail about the quality and frequency of the sexual intercourse of his married life and yea thus all the wheels started spinning and the floodgates were opened and so was i and here we are today.

at my desk. where with appalling atavistic german thoroughness i pore over systematic filth and the universe of sex manuals.

i like making lists of acts and possibilities. i like having a reason to read sanskrit again. kind of. i forgot that i read krafft-ebing at a young age. (though that is when one reads krafft-ebing, i suppose, if one is going to!)** (and, oh my God, my dear old teenage blog was called venus im pelz, at least for a while. forgot that, mercifully.) sixteen again. or still. at least without the neurotically excoriated skin.

i digress.

i am thoroughly enjoying the sex manuals for their balls-out agenda-ed-ness. (also, the fact that they thusfar have been woefully uninformed/misinforming about my own woeful condition puts a cold satisfied sneer on my face—and makes me feel like i have official sexological license to be the wild, mistaken, anguished creature i am anyway already.)

um yes also getting information is good.

___

* yeah, a reply in response. sorry. just go with it.

** never truly got past/over the guy who wanted to have sex with noses.

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