Sex and my mind

Sex and me, me and sex. It’s been quite the road. I don’t want to say journey. Everybody says journey.

I found out about sex pretty early. My earliest memory of it is wanting to see Red Shoe Diaries on late night television, but falling asleep and dreaming about watching it.

My dad hid his dirty magazines behind my bed. He definitely succeeded in his “How to traumatized your kid at an early age” course. From what I understand, my parents had a pretty warped sex life, which was quite fascinating.

I remember staying at my nan’s and having my first, very elaborate sex fantasy in which I had eight or more orgasms. Of course I didn’t masturbate. Masturbating at your nans house would be well wrong.

I even remember who I fantasized about. It was “H” from Steps. Before I knew he was gay. What? He was cute and bouncy. I liked him.

Of course, I had no idea how sex worked back then. I was eightteen before I found where my clit was. I mean, they told me, I read about it, but that night, I found out myself.

I kinda figured out that I was attracted to women back then. I secretly went on FHM’s site to look at pictures of the Steps girls in their skivvies. I had a sexual phase back then, even going as far as trying to finger myself with a paintbrush.

As I may have mentioned, I’m a boarding school survivor. But I wasn’t a boarding school slut. I kept myself to myself, plunging into needless celebrity crushes, which did end up hurting me.

After leaving school the first time, the sexual beast burst one night.

When I started this blog, I had no idea what to write about sex. I mean, I wasn’t (still am not) having sex, other than with myself. So, in lieu of sex, I wrote about potential dogs.

Which sounds quite sexy (if you’re into dogging) but really isn’t. I wrote about actual dogs. I didn’t even get a dog in the end so these posts had no use.

Sex is strange in my mind. I don’t mean that I think sex is strange, but my mind seems to be working against me in a bid to try to convince me that it’s really complicated.

I seem to think that everything in sex is a step. Step 1: fantasising. Step 2: touching yourself. Step 3: masturbating, and such and such.

My sex education was largely given to me by myself. Needn’t count on the parents for that one, they have no clue when it comes to sex, bless their hearts.

Sex still seems like something weird. See, I do think it’s weird. I don’t know why I think it’s weird, I mean, it’s normal and shit. But I think I’ll never be ready for it. Let me and my many dead vibrators have fun while we can.

Still, I would like to meet a nice boy/girlfriend. Falling in love would be nice. I’ve only been in love once, and that shit backfired like a motherfucker, so…

These were just some scattered thoughts I had. Hope you enjoyed reading them. I’ll probably be having more of these in the space of the next months. So, please, do get used to them. Suggest topics, if you like. Comments would be nice.

The first person to comment may suggest a prompt and I shall write something with that, or incorporate it in “Red”.


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  1. This post seems marginally sad… without being at all sad. Hard to explain… but I like it a lot.

    So much advice I want to spew here… but, I won’t. I won’t pretend I know more than you. You know you.

    Happy wanking!

  2. Thank you very much. It was just some stuff I had on my mind.

    If you still want to spew, feel free to mail me.

    And Happy Wanking to you!


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