Tuesday, 19 March 2013

Raised eyebrow

I wonder what it is about having sex that activates my more dirty side. Although not exactly disturbing or rude or even violent - I'm not sure those sides can be activated within an ILB - I do notice that, in the hours after sex, I seem to have more of a propensity to be a little dirtier than usual, with slightly profane tweets and even the occasional blatant sexual outburst (no, not like that) in various odd situations.

Not that I think people should be restrained about expressing their sexuality. I'm all for it... evidently. But I'm aware some situations seem like the wrong (I don't use the word "inappropriate") time and place to start a sexual discussion, and yet...

Last night I had sex. It was amazing. It had been far too long and I didn't even get to have sex on my birthday. I had belated birthday sex... and not before time, either. We flirted, kissed and then devoured each other hungrily, at which point I said something which was a mixture between romantic and creepy, like "I can't believe my penis is inside the vagina of such a beautiful woman." Yes, I am a truly lexical lothario.

Then I had a shower and dried myself with a new towel. And so, satiated, I slept well enough for a man who's dreaming about zombies.

Then I go and tweet something like this:

It's very uncannily similar to something I did last night.

And, before long, I find myself trying to explain the concept of bisexuality to a couple of clients at work who have very little grasp of the principles behind it. It's nothing to do with what we were originally talking about I take a break, aware that I'm falling asleep, go downstairs to the reception area and sit down. I fall asleep and dream about some more zombies who all have the face of Nick Clegg (he was on TV as I was falling; don't judge me!) and wake up with last night's sex fresh in my mind. I was also very aroused...

...although hopefully not about Nick Clegg.

Then I retweet stuff like this...

Many thanks to Yummy for not ripping off my head and spitting down my neck for using her tweet.
...and before I know it, I'm sitting on the train home debating about what may be the best way to ask the question "do you want to have sex?", or if it's technically rape if I kiss my girlfriend and carry her to bed the instant I walk through the door. (I doubt I have the strength to lift anyone up who's over the age of two, never mind carrying them to bed, but that's hardly the point.) It's on my mind, I have it, and I crave it for hours afterwards... at this point, stretching into days.

I know this is not unexpected; I am an ILB, I am a sex addict, I am aware of who I am and what I like... and what I like to like and who I like to be. I just feel very much like I should be revelling in the world of sex now I've had it again.

And why not?


Anonymous said...

For the love of toast boy wonder! Grab your lady and shag her silly. It would do you both a world of good. *reallllllly wishes she could do the same*

Innocent Loverboy said...