Tuesday, 1 April 2014


Yesterday's post by Girl On The Net mentions the concepts of energetic sex and physical exercise. She even managed to tie the two together, smart girl as she is. I find I'm not able to do that... because I don't really see much of a link...

That's a bit simplistic. Let me start again.

I've recently started running again. Last time I tried, it wasn't particularly successful - I got about halfway through the programme before deciding that playing Pokémon Sapphire was a better use of my time than suffering the stares of confused families, amused children, braying secondary school students and ubiquitous small dogs as I exploit the parks of the local area for my own selfish self-destruction. However, partially on account of the fact that I didn't feel comfortable in my own skin at Eroticon (but mostly because my mum told me I was fat the other day) I've restarted the programme.

And so I run: legs screaming at me to stop the ritual abuse, moobs doing some sort of Highland fling while my heart beats an Edinburgh tattoo against my chest roughly translated as, "Let me out! Why are you doing this? I don't know where the priests are hiding!", with my mouth sagging half open as if I've just been drugged, my feet falling flat against the pavements and paths that I manage to stagger onto on an almost daily basis. Laura chirrups in my ear that I'm doing really well and may even get a gold star from the Headmaster if I keep it up.

And then there are dogs.

After all this (and as I progress through the plan) I'm too tired to do just about anything, never mind fuck, so energetic sex is pretty much out of the question entirely since I've managed to expend about a year's worth of energy through pounding the streets while needing the toilet.

Having said that...

I have had some incredible energetic sex. The last time I had some "what the fuck are you on?" sex was about a month ago, but it's not the only time. York, Suffolk, Brighton and Hampshire have all also had their fair share of sex with a long burst of incredible exertion on my part. In pretty much every case, it seems that being on holiday is what gets me moving - and that's in no way a coincidence, when one considers the fact that you can make noise, use all the space you want and generally misbehave in appalling ways when you've booked into a room somewhere and horny. But then that's holiday sex. It's often energetic. Often loud. And often really, really good.

I've also noticed I'm more energetic the first time I have sex with people. That doesn't include my first time, which was akin to playing living statues with the aid of a condom as thick as Gibraltar - but, ever since then, the first time I've had sex with someone new has always involved as much thrusting, grunting and gung-ho push/pull action as I can put into it. And the more it seems obvious that I'm about to have sex, the more energy there is that gets generated. My body is a coitus dynamo, or something.

But for all that, what's with all the energetic sex? Exactly who am I trying to impress? Nobody's watching. I may do my duck-footed wheezy runs on public display, but sex with all guns blazing every single time... is it really necessary? No, of course it isn't. Slow sex is great. Lazy sex is great. Penetration and just holding it there for a while... well, some people may disagree, but I think that's great too. I'm not in porn, so why want to be vigorous each and every time?

Doesn't mean I'm not going to try, though. 

Sometimes I just can't stop!

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