Going, Going, Still Not Gone

I’ve spent today doing nothing other than setting up this identity across multiple sites (twitter, facebook, google plus and tumblr). And I have seen and admired so much porn, read so many erotic words and watched so many videos I have literally cum in my pants multiple times. I even had an afternoon fuck with a gorgeous friend of mine, but still, here I am, ready to go again. Such is the life of a sex addict.

If someone were to knock on my door and ask me to fuck them right now, I would be on them in a flash. I can already imagine pulling them against me, not caring what their name was, where they came from, whether they were single or involved. It wouldn’t matter how much I’ve cum or how much my cock might ache from all the wanking and sex during the day, I’d be hard the instant I saw them standing there and heard them begging me to fuck them.

They might try and explain who they were and why they were there, but I don’t think I’d notice. I’d be too busy kissing sucking my way across their body – licking their tummy and dragging my tongue around them – to hear their words. My hunger would become so all encompassing, and I would be so turned on, that when the moment came, I could easily slip inside.

We wouldn’t speak. We wouldn’t need to. Our eyes would simply lock together, both knowing what the other needed, and we’d push together. I’d feel her hips rise and her wet slit tease the head of my cock, and I would push forwards, desperate to get deeper inside her. With one hard thrust I’d spread her and fill her. And as she lay there, under me with her legs wide open, I’d go to work – rubbing and grinding and thrusting inside her. Pushing over and over and over again while she ran her nails down my back and whimpered. Neither of us speaking, just letting our bodies do the work. Until eventually, inevitably, we pushed each other to the edge and came together. Her body trembling and her head thrown back – the perfect sight for me to finally release and cum deep inside her.

Then, after our orgasms had eased, we’d smile and kiss and relax until I could slide out of her. She’d give me a kiss, pull her panties up, dress herself, and leave without another word…



Sex is awesome.

You know that. I know that. But I still don’t think it can be stated enough. Sex – is – AWESOME. The touch of another person’s skin against yours, the sound of their gasping and moaning, the smell of pure, unrestrained sex, the feelings… Urgh, just thinking about that makes me want to pull my jeans down, reach into my shorts and stroke my cock. I’m already hard.

And then there’s the finish – the orgasm. Not just mine, either. I love cumming, but fuck me, few things beat the understanding and the sound of my partner reaching orgasm. It’s what drives me. What keeps me pushing and thrusting until they grip the bedsheets or the back of my head and convulse and cum and groan so loud it fills the room. It could come after the quick release of a five-minute fumble, or be the slow, natural end to some deep, sensual love-making. It could even be the kind of toe-curling, lip-biting, body-shaking full on orgasm that comes at the end of a rough, deep, urgent fuck from days or hours (or in my case, minutes) of pent up sexual frustration – it doesn’t matter. All are incredible to me and whatever way it comes (ahem) I genuinely don’t think there are many feelings in the world which can top an orgasm, theirs or mine.

But I’ve only just kinda realised this, or at least accepted it, which is weird. I’m 31, I’m male, I’ve had sex – that gives me a free pass to be open about sex all the time and laugh with mates while drinking beer and comparing “conquests”, right? Well, no. Not all of us are “lads” who do this stuff. We don’t all objectify women as creatures who just need to be fucked and can be boasted about afterwards. Some of us feel kinda inadequate, some of us try and bury all of this in an attempt to seem controlled. It doesn’t mean we don’t have those urges and cravings, though.

I’ve sat on this feeling for a long time – a conflict between trying to appear “good” and wanting to just give in and admit to my wild, desperate lust and love of fucking. I hate to compare it, but there is an assumption about how some guys should think and talk about sex which feels a little similar to the long standing issue of how women are expected to behave and not get horny, unless they want to be considered a “slut”. Now, I know that issue is a whole lot deeper and a lot more unfair than mine, but I think seeing the gradual 21st century re-balance to sexuality and expectations that’s been happening through blogs and personalities like Belle Du Jour and (one of my favourite bloggers) @girlonthenet has inspired me to actually just admit the truth and get on with this blog.

So here I am. I’m not your typical lugnut and I’m not your buff, alpha-male, but I’m going to to be honest – I’m probably just as horny as them (probably more so) and nothing pleases me more than awesome sex, turning a girl on and making her cum so hard she screams. And I’m going to embrace that and talk about it. This is my attempt to show not all men are what you might assume and to show (yet) another side to sex-blogging.

Stick with me and together we might discover a thing or two.