Lust.

I’m really crashing. I bought a, hopefully, really good bottle of cream sherry the other day from Tanners and I’m debating doing a bit of self-medication. I feel like shit.

Yeah, it’s pretty good; I feel better already. In fairness it tastes pretty much like Harvey’s but is marginally more pricey. That’s much better.

It’s like this one woman I’m in lust with, she’s creative, artistic, educated, has an intellect, she’s ambitious, she’s cultured, has a sense of style and refinement. She’s civilised and I like this about her; these kind of qualities I find really attractive in a woman because I like to feel that someone could be on my level, also she’s foreign, well travelled and I think I’d describe her as upper middle class. Also: blonde. There’s something deeply uncommon about her. When I think about her sexually, though, and I can’t actually imagine her ever having sex. She even looks like, totally, innocent, like, to look at her I wouldn’t even think that she’s even had a sexual thought in her life and the way she communicates tends to confirm that impression and that’s what’s driving the lust. Then again there’s also a confidence with men that’s rare, which I love.

I’m thinking about her and I’m thinking either she’s a total virgin, or at least she’s totally inexperienced, or she’s like a complete and total sex maniac. I know this is a false dichotomy, she could just be a normally sexually active woman, but somehow I just don’t get that impression off her. To me either is equally interesting, frequent readers of this blog, my future minions, all know that my attitude to the extremes of female sexuality is one of total comfort and acceptance. Female sexuality is not something I fear.

I wish we lived in a culture were we could be adult about sex. Where people could say, “Look, I find you really attractive and you’re an interesting person, I’d really like to have sex with you” and whether the proposition was accepted or rejected it was no big deal. A culture where we all accept that we see people we’d like to have sex and where we could deal with sex without all the bullshit that we put on top of it.

So on one hand she turns me on because I like the idea that secretly she’s filthy as anything and totally wild and then on the other this this idea of taking this near virginal woman, ripping her clothes off, bending her over and fucking her to within an inch of her life and leaving her panting on the bed trying get her breath, feeling both totally satisfied and totally fucked, while I go and get a beer with a, “I’ll be back for more later” kinda vibe. Then it flips over to this idea that she might be just as sexual as I am and both conceptions of her are equally mindblowingly lust inducing to me.

That’s the last of the sherry and look how well I’m writing.

Also there is the potential that she’s reading this………..which makes me grimace and there may have to be a plausible denial scenario enacted.

I don’t know. Part of me wants to act on it. “Hey, next time you’re in the UK how about we go at it?” or “How about I come to you and we go at it?”, although I wouldn’t be this blunt obviously, and then the other part of me is like, “Don’t spoil things, things are good at the moment, don’t risk it”.Then there’s the whole, “If you don’t ask then you don’t get”. thing and also, dare I say it, YOLO.  YOLO informs my life more than I like to admit. We’re here for a good time, not a long time as I see it.

I don’t know.

Advice would be greatly appreciated; I’m off to sleep this bottle of sherry and chicken supernoodles off.

Toodles.

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