I was a huge Duran Duran fan back in the day. Your video for the day:
Here is a link for the original video (I can’t embed it). Why am I posting a Duran Duran video? Well, because I can. Oh, and this song is pertinent to my blog entry for the day.
It’s back. I thought it was gone, but no, it was just waiting, waiting, waiting for the perfect time to pounce. WTF am I talking about? My stupid sexual peak. You can read more about it here, here, and here. Even though Natasha had told me about this affliction in horrible details when she went through them, I truly did not understand the depths to which this peak spreads. When I was first hit with the peak, I thought I would explode. I wrote a personal, but I wasn’t satisfied with the results. Then, shit happened, and the peak faded a bit.
Now, to clarify, I have always had a high sex drive. As I have stated, I’ve never had a partner who could keep up with me. Let me be more explicit. I could have sex twice a day, every day. I could have it in a car. I could have it on a bar. I could have it hanging by my knees. I could have it swinging from the trees. I could have it against a wall. I could have it under a waterfall. I could have it with chocolate on top. I could have it until my partner begs me to stop. I could have it with handcuffs and whips. I could have it with melted chocolate chips. I could have it morning, noon, or night. I could have it with black, yellow, red, brown, or white. I could have it in twos and threes. I could have it on my knees. I could have it with folks of all genders. I could have it with them all at one time, in one hell of a bender.
I could have it dressed as a dominatrix. I could have it just for kicks. I could have it following a night of slow seduction. I could have it as a big production. I could have it in five minutes quick. I could have it with a kiss and a lick. I could have it on all fours. I could have it behind closed doors. I could have it on a bed. I could have it until I’m dead. I could have it with the lights on. I could have it from dusk until dawn. I could have it with dildoes and nipple clamps. I could have it on freeway entrance ramps. I could have it with Alan Rickman (in my dreams). I could have it done with tag teams. I could have it for days and days and days. I could have it in so many different ways.
Oh, sorry. I was channeling my inner Dr. Seuss. Strangely enough, he sounds a bit like Dr. Ruth instead.
Ok. Back to the point.
I want to fuck. I want to fuck as many men as I can. I wouldn’t mind a woman or two in the mix, but that’s a bit harder to find. While I was watching the MLB All-Star Game, all I could think about was how so totally hot Ichiro is, what a cute butt Joe Nathan has, and how BIG Ryan Howard is–if you get my drift. It’s damn distracting to be thinking about carnal things while I’m trying to watch a baseball game. Then, I have Joe Buck and Tim McCarver nattering in my ears, totally harshing my sex high.
But, ooooh, there was President Barack Obama throwing out the first pitch, chatting with the players (with Ichiro grinning like a little boy), and stopping in the booth with Joe and Tim. I know this isn’t appropriate, but our president is so fucking hot. It’s not just his looks (though he has a very nice body); it’s his voice and his intelligence. It’s his quick, easy grin and his respectful manners. It’s the whole fucking package.
Damn. It’s so distracting to be constantly lusting. I have all these other fucking things I need to do, but I’m getting caught up in my sexual drive again. I’ve been told that I’m a freak because I think about sex so much and because I envision how certain people will be in bed. Another bi woman I knew a loooong time ago said that women didn’t think about stuff like that. She couldn’t understand how I could look at someone on the street and imagine him/her in bed. I said, “Easy! I just imagine them naked, and I take it from there.” She was not amused.
You want to know what the sad part is? Despite my openess online and my bravado persona, I have many hangups that make it difficult for me to just go out there and pick up people. In addition, I’m not into the club scene any more, not that I really was. Still, I used to go to dance clubs once a month or so back in the day. Not any more. Kiki and I would dress up really cutely, grab a bite to eat, then dance until one or two in the morning. We’d scope out the situation, I’d maybe grab a number, and then we would go to Perkins to eat before staggering home at three or four.
These days? We’re yawning by ten p.m. She has a kid now, so she has an excuse. If I make it to midnight, then I’m good to go until four or five, but I don’t always make it until midnight. Plus, I’m fat now. I know, I know, there are men who like fat women and many women don’t care, but I don’t feel comfortable in my body right now.
In addition, my mom is coming home for her annual visit. She’s going to be here a month and a half this time. She’s coming in two weeks–which means I have to clean. I fucking hate cleaning. This is not the optimal time to be on the prowl, but my body is telling me that it won’t wait that long. It’s a bit disconcerting because while I enjoy sex very much, I can also do without it, for the most part. I’m like a camel in that I hoard up sex because I tend to have long draughts. If I have sex, then it becomes a driving need again. If I go for more than a year without sex, I can handle it.
This sexual peak is a whole different animal. I am now going to evaluate people like this. Fuckable or no? If I am going to do a second round of slut years, then it’s going to be the hottest, most primal, physically-based sex I can find. I want it to be so incendiary, I can light a cigarette with my pussy after I come. Now, I just have to figure out the best way to get this accomplished. Stay tune. I’ll keep you apprised of further developments.
To close out this entry, here is a jazz version of the above song, set to the Tex Avery Red Hot Riding Hood video. Enjoy.