Venus febriculusa

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I love the smell of Venus febriculosa in the morning My mind is again caffeinated and racing, a hooligan mob darting from a burned out car to the police, from one thought to another and, yet, in my mind these thoughts all have an umbilical cord tethering them to the same mater/pater: theyre all familial...siblings..Yes, born of my grey matter(which, by the way, does look like a horrific nest of grey vulvae), my thoughts now seek independance and run off on their own or together sewing mayhem and sowing oats to produce tada! more thoughts.here, let me capture some of the buggers and tell you what I see:Oh, ho,ho!Surprise, surprise:They all have the same look,carbon copys of one another,the same wickedly gleeful look,and these thoughts convince me that I' am thinking of Venus febriculosa,aka, cunnilingus.Now sex.Sex in general.Am I a sex fiend?A maniac?A satyrnalian?I do not know.All of my life I have been captured by the thought of women(did i steal this line from Pasternaks poem?)I have been a devotee of their winsomeness, their foreignness,curves,smells.I tried the gay thing and it didn't work.I felt too much like Narcissus.At the tender age of six I did things with a girl my own age that most six year olds do not do.I'll only say this involved tongues, insertions and a peculiar frisson at the whole affair.From fifteen to I -do- not- recall I had many lovers, more lovers than people that live in some Icelandic villages.Over 100,over 200. And, we may stop here.We will.I have always had this lust for more and more sex.Insatiable.never satisfied.In the past this lust was characterized by the desire for all women.Since my first marriage(25-30)it is a lust for more sex with the same woman.Only, I had never had a woman who could keep up, alas I became a serial monogamist.Until now.You'd think that after 35-40 times in five days I'd be satisfied.Oh, but no, I want more.Just her.Yet,my body feels cartoonish: this fiendishly prolonged horniness won't go away.Do i need a goddamned hobby?More exercise?A shrink?I have read everything on the net about sexual addiction.I'am not a sex addict.(I can hear the hackneyed slogan,"Denial is not a river in Egypt.")I'am not denying anything.I just think I was born with too much, a surplus if you will, of testosterone.An average day masturbating: 5-10, once I onanized myself 12 times.I love sex.And, trust me, it is not about the end result, the liberation of France, the explosion, the bellowing like an Angus steer followed by copius amounts of silvery D.N.A strewn onto a pale stomach to resemble a very shiny archipelago.No, it is the work before that interests me.The cessation of time and space outside of the lovemaking, the fucking, the whatever you want to call it, has never been lost to me.It baffles me.This act, on one hand so beautiful, on the other, so ridiculous.I will admit that a huge part of my fascination with the Ol' In -Out In- Out is watching the other squirm and shriek like a victim in Butryki Prison.I love watching them cum.I really enjoy this.Much more than listening to Chopin, eating cajun food, playing rugby, boxing, reading, writing. And the taste of women!Jesus !The closed fist of her sex.You teasing it to open.Its becoming swollen and wet,a moving orchid.The lubricity, tightness,tartness and musk.So animal.So mammal.So godlike.Human.I think philosophers would not have been philosophers had they shagged more often than ,oh, once every lifetime.Nietzche looked beyond horny.Kierkegaard was virtually a monk.And, not just the existentialists.The whole lot of them, especially the venerable Professor from Tubingen:Kant Herr Kant needed her cunt..you get the picture---although the picture of Kant bumping uglies with anyone is nauseating--- This thought is haunting me like a bipolar poltergeist with seperation anxiety.Egads.The lot of them:Spinoza, Hegel,Hume,Berkeley,...oh, Richard stop.Marx in a threeway with Engels and Kant and perhaps some Bavarian slatterns,some opium,Munchen lager,apertifs of moans in that oh so romantic German tongue. No, it didnt happen, thus we now have Das Kapital.And, London has the Teutonic hippys bones.Of course they had sex.Maybe not enough.Maybe just the generic kind:where you just go at sex like you go at a pizza:laborious,mechanical,boring.Of course I've never had sex like this,i have been with women and men who prefered sex like this but a good roughing up usually dredged them out of the doldrums, recued them from their malaise,oh, God!Why do i compare and contrast women?Am i grading cattle?No, it is human to do so, right?i mean everyones been with a person who wasnt a virgin, yet lay there like a mummified Aztec behind glass,everyones been with that special someone who, honestly, if they left your horny ass, you could have had more fun with a hatchet, 17 dead snakes, a worn copy of anything by any Bronte sister and a jug of lukewarm water in a graveyard .Right?Right.Then, you have those doozies.They fuck .As if they were bred to fuck.Later, you are with someone better and you realize , no, you were just horny.This new person is actually good, then you meet the best.The one .Her.Or him.Time goes by, youre with more Aztecs, more pizzas, another wow!, then, you meet the deity, the demigod of sex.everything she does is holy.Her resilience is otherworldly.Her stamina frightens; yet, is matched thrust for thrust,moan for moan.You've found each other and you get married. I think this blog is a warm up exercise for my ACTUAL writing Sex.The joyous, galloping union of phallus and lacuna, cock and cunt, saliva and sweat, pan-optic eyes and verbiage being sexy or even bizarre(Once, a Palestinian woman ,while in the act, she on all fours, smoking a joint, in between puffs decides to tell me that ,"...last week I spoke to Satan in an alleyway behind my club."--what?I asked.She then repeats this inanity.needless to say I lost my appetite...which is in marked contrast with my early years when women said even more bizarre things and it seemed as though these outrageous asides brought on orgasm quicker,why the change I do not know) Sex.I'm sorta going in and out of subject.So, yes, finally i have found someone to keep up with me.At the expense of sleep, victuals,entertainment,the outside world,cinema,etc.. we do it constantly.24/7, or 24/5 rather.24/6.And, as I age I find that intelligant conversation stimulates me, that fetid piffle , dismal drivel always makes me flaccid.Lately, the conversation has been at 11.The best.Ergo, the sex is also at ...11.and, they feed on each other, dual parasitism.Like us.She tells of her experiences I become aroused, she talks and gets misty eyed and again: arousal.Ad infinitum.Talk, talk, talk....that old aphrodisiac, the salacious quality of gab.I'm in need of a cold shower now.