Tag Archives: sex

If You Want Me Come And Get Me

“If a man wants you, he will come and get you.” ~ Unknown

This time something feels different.

The storyline began long ago—but we both have a history of not finishing what we started.

This time—I’m hoping you’ll take the chance to run your fingertips over every one of my soft pages, reading every single word—even those said in between the sweet subtext of refuge.

Because this time, for you, I am an open book.

So baby, if you want me—come and get me. 

Come and surge through my door—because this time you know I’m ready for you.

Not just for the kisses that intoxicate us like the taste of electrifying absinth, but for the way you feel when we are together.

And while I may not know all the answers, something tells me, I inspire something different in you.

I am not professing to know the intricacies of your mind or heart—for one thing I’ve learned is, when you do want me to know something, I will.

And this time, I have no desire to rush you, or the endless amounts of time we could spend passionately working through the various endings to a love story, that we didn’t think we were ever going to read again.

I trust you enough to lead me.

Because however farfetched or unlikely it seems, I need to be lead at times and, for some reason, you take the reins like no one else.

That’s why this time, I’m leaving it up to you.

I think you know where I stand, and though I don’t have any conclusions about how this story will end, I do know the questions that I want to ask this time.

So, even though I want you, I’m not going to chase you.

If and when you decide that you want me, truly see what can grow in the most unlikely of places, then I trust you enough to choose the timing.

Although I can be a force to be reckoned with, I am more than that when I am with you.

And at one point I quaked in that role and fought against it, but now, it’s the pleasure of my simple undoing.

It is because of my strength that I need someone—yes, I said need—it is another thing I’ve learned this go around.

I do need someone.

I need a man, at times, to put me in my sweet place—not because I need to be told what to do, but because I need a man who is strong enough to know that I don’t really want to be so formidable.

I have lost my desire to lead.

Not that I will ever take a supporting role in my own life, but I also know that I don’t need to be in the starring role to make a difference in this world.

Because one thing I’ve learned is that I shine just as bright when I am quiet, with tears streaming paths down my soft cheeks. I don’t need to be the loudest, I can simply be myself and that is enough.

And though that may change on a daily basis—some days I may still roar, on most occasions I will simply just purr.

So, baby if you want me—come and get me.

Because I am a ripe peach, waiting for your teeth to sink into me, letting the sweet juices flow down your chin.

I am softness and understanding, just within your reach.

My eyes will tell you every sweet and bitter honesty—even if you don’t always wish to hear it.

Because this time, I’m not trying to be someone who I think you would want—I’m simply being myself.

While I may be filled with an endless array of contradictions, this is who I really am.

And I know myself well enough to know that anyone who truly wants me will come and get me.

And it won’t matter if a man knows all the answers, I am a question he can’t stop trying to figure out.

What may stand in the way or how ridiculous it may all seem, won’t matter to him.

If a man truly wants me, he won’t let anything stand in the way.

And, maybe you don’t really want me—maybe this could be all a game, one that I simply didn’t learn my lesson from before.

Maybe it is all about sex.

But, maybe it’s not—I wish to be judged for who I am now and not the crazy, train wreck of a woman who couldn’t look herself in the mirror, then I have to trust in the man you have become too.

I have no choice but to trust your words and the language of your eyes and hands.

So this time, baby, if you do want me—all you have to do is come and get me.

~Relephant Via Kate Rose

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My Top 3 Sex Related Problems As A Woman

Let me start this out by making a couple wild generalizations about sex.

First, we’re all having it.

Of course, that’s not actually true; some of us haven’t had it yet, others are going through a drought and some choose not to have it at all. But in general, it’s a widespread phenomenon. Which is good, since it’s what leads to the propagation of the species.

Second, while it’s an extremely common experience, we don’t really talk about it.

We don’t talk about it with each other (as in, the actual people we’re having sex with), and we don’t talk about it with others, even those we’re close to. Again, yes, there are exceptions to this, but generally, not so much.

I humbly submit that this is a major issue. Because it’s easy for things that are kept hidden or secret (whether accidentally or on purpose) to lead to feelings of shame, confusion, and hopelessness. Plus, what we don’t talk about, we can’t get support with. And we need support in this area; sex and sexuality are fundamental to who we are as human beings.

So in the spirit of more openness, I present my top three sex problems, as a heterosexual woman:

1) Men being too rough with their hands.

I’m a pretty experienced sex-er. I’ve had a lot of it, with a wide variety of men. But I can count with just a few fingers the number of men who were good with theirs.

That’s right, I’m talking about fingering.

Even the word sounds kind of… violent. It presupposes that the “goal” or “point” of the activity is penetrative—for you to jam your finger up my hoo-ha, often in a simulated version of intercourse.

Okay! Just a few problems with this. First, most of the time when I play with myself, I don’t get all up in the inside. I don’t use a dildo, I use a baby bullet, which is just a very small vibrator that actually never goes inside me.

I stick with stimulating the clit, which is way above the vulva (the opening of the vagina).

Second, even if a man does get that The Clit Is It, he often applies so much direct pressure to it that it hurts. I feel bruised and notice that my clitoris gets numb; it loses sensitivity because it’s been so overstimulated. Again, when I play with myself, I do so gently, especially at first. The clitoris has 8,000 nerve endings; no wonder it’s so sensitive!

Before I get admonished for not speaking up about the issue at the moment, I want to say that I do say something a lot of the time. If he starts out so rough that it hurts, I often say, “Gentle gentle gentle!” Or even as it’s starting (before the pain), “Listen just so you know, the lighter the touch, the more I feel.” But I find that a lot of the time this only works for a few minutes, and then it’s back to the jabbing.

Part of the reason this is such a problem for me is that I find myself distracted. I’m trying to protect my body while also accommodating the person I’m with (not shaming him about what’s not working). So not only am I not turned on, I’m actually anxious. I feel my stomach twist into knots when a man starts putting his hands down there because my body is so trained to expect pain.

As I write that, I sense just how sad it is. I also find myself curious as to whether other women have a similar experience.

2) Initiating.

Honestly, I prefer for a man to initiate sex with me. And I don’t think that’s necessarily a problem. We all have preferences, and that’s mine.

But I feel like I’m not good at initiating… ever. And that feels like a problem.

What holds me back? In a word, fear.

Fear I’ll be seen as wanting too much.

Fear I’ll be seen as slutty.

Fear of rejection.

And one more that’s a little harder to describe, but perhaps the most true: fear of “making him” feel obligated.

I intellectually grasp that any man I’m with would probably love for me to initiate. But when it comes to actually doing it, I hesitate. I don’t want me initiating to have him feel like he has to have sex with me. I want him to be inspired to do the dirty with me, not do it because he should.

Realistically, this says far more about me than about men. It says that my psyche often interprets someone asking something of me as not requesting, but demanding. So I think my own request for sex will be interpreted as a demand—and I don’t want that. Since I don’t trust that my partner will “be able” to give me an honest no, it feels safer to just wait for him to ask me.

Do I feel obligated when it comes to a man initiating with me? If I’m very, very honest, yeah, I kind of do. I don’t always allow that feeling of obligation to “win”; if I really don’t want to have sex at the moment, I speak up. But most of the time, if my partner wants sex, I’m probably going to say yes, and not always because I’m totally in the mood and really want it.

Again, I’m curious as to whether other women have a similar experience.

3) Finding men who are both cocky and heart-y.

I don’t mean cocky as in arrogant. I mean literally cock-y: men who have a strong relationship with their cock (their sexuality). These are men I feel would be able to truly take me. They’d push me up against a wall and mean it. They’d pull my hair without asking for permission. They’re comfortable with what I call “fuck energy”—the desire to just fuck someone.

Listen, I’m a strong woman. I can get shit done. But while I have a lot of masculine energy (I can do, create, make things happen), when it comes to sex, I want to be in my feminine. For me, that requires a man who can be dominant in the bedroom. I’m not into hardcore BDSM, but I do want to feel like I’m not in charge; instead of having to lead, I get to be ravished.

At the same time, I want to be able to feel a man’s heart and know that he can feel mine. I’m not talking about needing him to be a therapist or something; I just mean feeling connected on both a sexual and emotional level (even if it’s just for one night).

In other words, I don’t want an insensitive bro who’s solely fucking me so he can check another Tinder swipe off his list, and I equally don’t want a sensitive new age guy who can talk about feelings but has disowned his “fuck energy.”

I find I end up attracting either one or the other, and that’s a problem.

The fact is, most of us learn about sex in bits and pieces as we grow up, either in hushed conversations with siblings or friends or from pornography. It’s not the easiest thing to communicate about, so it’s easy to just not. But that’s a disservice to both ourselves and others.

I think having the sex we really want (in or out of committed relationships) starts with getting real about what doesn’t work for us—what we struggle with.

So I’m curious:

What are the top 3 problems you have when it comes to sex? What blocks you from pleasure, keeps you from enjoying your body and/or the body of your partner?

I wonder if more of us share the same problems than we think. I wonder whether men and women share the same problems.

And how much better would the world be if, on a regular basis, we all got to have stimulating, sensual, spirited, soulful, scintillating, satisfying sex?

Author: Melanie Curtin

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Domesticated

He shoved her roughly onto the kitchen table, causing dishes to crash to the floor and condiments to dig into her arched back. He mounted her just as roughly, his body crushing hers until his arms found a place on either side of her head and a knee wedged itself between her thighs.

Effectively, she was trapped in by a wall of such strong masculinity. In one strong pull; he ripped her blouse open, the buttons stinging her face like rubber bullets. With a few more tugs, the bright silk garment lay crumpled and torn, discarded on the floor.

His movements were harsh and spastic as he roamed around her body. Hard hands bruising tender flesh. She struggled involuntarily under the crushing weight of his body.

Impatience causes him to grab a nearby knife to cut off any and all remaining articles of clothing. Her lacy black bra fell first, followed shortly by her cotton skirt. Her nylons proved to be a challenge. He nicked her half a dozen times before finally getting them off.

After what seemed like ages but was, in reality, a couple of minutes, she was completely exposed. By now his desire was threatening to rip his front open and she could feel the terrible pressure and heat on her thigh.

Three seconds and his garment were undone. Another three seconds and he was inside… An outcry of pain escaped her lips as he quickened the pace even further. His grin was wicked, the fear left her eyes. Her cries were that of pleasure now.

They climaxed soon after and he dismounted her abruptly. She went upstairs, her head held high to get dressed and freshen up before heading back to work.

Leaving her unemployed husband home to clean up his mess.


I found this excerpt in my old documents. I don’t remember writing it and I have no idea how it gets there. I received tons of materials from friends and acquaintances I long lost track of their origins. They are from a file labeled “strangers” I don’t know what that means. Anyway, I find that it fits the prompt quite well. Literally.

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Serially Yours (Part One)

There was this gorgeous natural pool between two mountains with cute, small waterfall descending from one side and a river with reasonable fast current down on the other side with a picturesque bamboo bridge across.

I like the place because it was kind of private, peaceful and the fauna and flora were simply breath-taking. I was stripped down from the waist up and ready to hit the water when I saw her.

She didn’t see me at first; she was deep in thoughts concentrating on negotiating the narrow, steep path leading down to the pool. She was wearing a blue bikini with green and yellow flower pattern with a matching pareo tied around her hips. She was so beautiful! The sight of her almost took my breath away.

When she was almost at the bottom of the steps, she saw me. A strange mixture of surprise and fear (?) registered on her face. But that was only for a fraction of a second, she quickly pivoted on her heels and run!

But I was quick. I only wanted to stop her and talk, thinking this maybe my only chance to catch her alone, I simply cannot let her go away.

 I caught up with her easily. This is my terrain, my playground; I know this place better than anyone, I grew up here, negotiating treacherous surfaces is a second nature to me. She on the other hand is a city girl, I know. Too bad for her.

When I reached her something I never planned happened. What I did was___ grabbed her, turned her towards me, pulled her closer and kissed her passionately. It happened so fast she didn’t get the chance to react. Why she must tasted so sweet and so soft to hold I right away lost control of myself?

I pulled her even closer against me, she let a moan, she said: “Oh, Michael.” And went limp in my arms.  My knees buckled, my legs turned to Jell-O, my mind went blank, and suddenly the world had stop from turning. I heard thunder and lightning everywhere and I was stiff as a pole.

When I carried and laid her on the grass, she did not resist. It was starting to get dark. When I lay next to her; she closed her eyes and bit her lips. We kissed hungrily for a while, touching, exploring. I was only beginning to discover where everything is. I never realized that a kiss could taste like heaven I didn’t want to stop.

The moment I removed her bikini top, she gave me a look I never seen before anywhere or from anyone in my life. Not even on her. All I know was what the look did to my blood ‒ boil!

When I pulled the rest of the bikini all the way down, she clung to me passionately, we’re like two people drowning; very fast and there was no tomorrow. When I entered her, I thought I was going to pass out from ecstasy. It was good. No, better than good, better than anything I have ever experience so far, it was worth dying twice over.

When I murmured in her ear that I have no idea it would be like this, she said: “You don’t see nothing yet.” And she showed me. Not one, not twice, but six times over!

We laid side by side afterwards looking at the moon.

Then she said: “Now, what?”

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images: 4ever.eu & pinterest