Speaking for myself and only myself.

Of course.

My passions tend to vary. Some belligerently take center stage without notice or reason to stay for a while then fade with nary a goodbye. Some last only a day or two, never to be seen again. This goes for the everyday stuff of my obvious life (perfect hair, tuna casserole, bubble baths, the color pink, shoes, spa pedicures, watches, purses, Law & Order: Criminal Intent, French fingernails)…

…and for the sexual turn-ons which guide my mendacious and curious libido. And you know me by now, dontcha? You know that sexual turn-ons for me are a lot about fantasy. Masturbational fodder–more or less. I just don’t need to live out everything I think about.

I’m too smart for that and I’d never be done.

Just ask anybody who’s awakened to hear me list off my dreams from the previous night or recent nap. Because it has always astounded my listeners. My brain would most likely destroy my body if I had to live out every sexual idea my cerebellum entertained.

I am always reluctant to list or write in detail about my own fantasies or those my callers share with me because most people are surprisingly intolerant and harshly judgmental of other people’s fantasies. I hear this all the time in my everyday life and even from some of my callers, silly boys.But enuff of that. Back to my passions, which is, after all, how all of this started.

We were speaking in sexual terms…if you need reminding.

For me, it all revolves around power — either lacking or possessing it. And it can go either way. As much as I love administering FemDom mind-fucks, I can also be incredibly aroused by giving up power. Usually I only do this in my mind, thus the masturbatory inclinations re. “powerlessness.”

Try this on for size: Wherever, whenever sex occurs, there is a power exchange.

What do you think? Sound too generic, too generalized?

I don’t happen to think so. In fact I think it is a basic constant where truly good sex is happening on a regular basis.

And it doesn’t have to be anything fancy or complicated or brutal. It really can be as simple as who is on top. Or the act of holding someone’s wrists. Or whispering forbidden, dirty words. Or not permitting orgasm until permission is requested and granted. Or gently taking someone up against a wall…or while their friend/family are in the next room…or under a blanket at the park. In other words–times and places one normally wouldn’t concede to having sex.

Newness (AKA spontaneity) also counts for a lot. I have only lived with one person and can’t claim the experience of marriage. But I do talk sex with a lot of guys and in a variety of venues (even in mixed crowds). So I briefly encountered a loss of spontaneity in my own personal sexual arena and have heard the complaint more times than I can count. Not to put too fine a point on it, but boring sex sucks.

And sexy is not about physical perfection. The urban legend is, indeed, fact: perfection can be quite boring. Pretty boys (I’ve had a few) are usually (95-99% of the time) empty vessels. Sexy is about attitude. And every breath we live defines our attitude. So, no slumping…that is if you want the pay-off of hot sex.

So, anyway…there’s a bit about passion.

This entry was posted on Monday, March 12th, 2007 at 2:50 pm and is filed under And Another Thing, Rhetorically Yours, Sidetracked. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.