Erotophoria

Ladies, I have something to confess: when you roll in the sheets with me for the first time I am not the ultra-confident, sexually enlightened being I like to present to most people. I rarely orgasm with other people.

I shake and quiver with nervous excitement, and my hands frequently change their mind. I can become so completely absorbed in feeling every inch of you from the inside I might forget to orgasm… and I won’t be free enough to help give you one either. And worst of all, once inside, I’m prone to forget my length and breadth. To be completely honest, I might cause you lingering pain by knocking on your back wall more then a few times.

I’m shy and akward, but not every time. I’m a virgo. I need to be a virgin lover with you at least once. It’s my way. Some of you have told me I’m pathetic. Others, a very few others, have been around long enough to say it’s sweet.

Either way, it doesn’t matter, it’s misleading.

I’m still like a boy now with a new lover. But unlike the boy I used to be, with a woman I know, a woman with whom I am confident, I am a man.

Sweet dreams,

~Virgohippy

Sex is sweetest when someone else does to your most pleasurable parts what you would love to do yourself, if only you could.

Just thought I might share a little something.

~Virgohippy

P.S. if anybody asks tell them I was sleeping all night.

Dear Dean of Student Affairs,

I’d like to apologize for any actions on my part which might have contributed to the explosion of sex and sin in the men’s locker room yesterday. I didn’t mean to assist in inciting an orgy on a college campus.

When I was taking a shower, after a long, sweaty session of training, and rubbed a sweet smelling lather all over my soapy wet body in front of all those completely smooth swimmers I didn’t mean to become aroused. It wasn’t my intention to accidentally be overwhelmed by the memory of an experienced and married woman who’d forced her way into in my bed a few days before.

I certainly didn’t intend to walk over to my locker, dripping wet, without a towel. It was poor judgment on my part to decide that I didn’t need to cover my body with a soft cotton cloth until I’d made it to my locker.

Looking back now I can see how a slender young man with long dripping wet hair walking completely naked all the way from the showers to a locker with an erect penis might cause an undesirable reaction from other men. When I say this I hope you can understand how I felt when I rubbed my hard, thin body with a baby-blue hand-towel. It just didn’t occur to me that that moment wasn’t the opportune time to fondly recollect a dirty, cheating wife who meant to turn me into her boy toy.

But I can’t claim responsibility for anything which took place that day beyond gently rubbing my hard cock with a feathery soft cloth. I was perfectly willing to keep my gentle pleasure to myself!

It was the sweaty, deep dark skinned young man who hummed a tune to himself while giving off an aroma of grass and musk not but a few lockers down who was fascinated by my throbbing appendage. Surely you can understand the necessity of using the moisture in my mouth as a lubricant after he decided to start touching me. I had no lotion, nor any personal lubricant with me at the time and I had to reciprocate. My mother raised me to be a polite and considerate man. There was nothing I could do but rip down his tights and clean off his salty, sweat covered, dark chocolate, thick curly pubic hair laced cock with my tongue. I couldn’t use my clean, though damp towel - he was covered in dirt and sweat!

And when those skinny swimmers with hairless bodies, shining and slippery like eels, came upon us, practically dancing with glee, they were responsible for their own actions as well. It was they who decided to fondle me and my little pink wonder while I was bowing down and worshiping the dark chocolate dong filling my mouth.

Please understand that by the time the tall, muscular women from the girl’s volleyball team had entranced upon our heated little exchanges of fluids and caresses I was already completely powerless. I had been walled in by a mass of heaving, heavy breathing, musky bodies. I couldn’t escape when so many hands and lips were holding me down, fondling me, and paying such dutiful attention to my red hot hard-on. I was pinned - one of them must have taken a wrestling class on your college campus!

That being said, I do have to admit the presence of pussy certainly did change the nature of my own arousal. When the raven haired woman with a deep commanding voice and a hooked nose incited a riot with the other girls as she tore off her mound hugging short-tights and bore down on me with her dripping wet, black hair covered vagina I became an animal. To be honest, I barely noticed the volleyball coach – that raging, angry bitch of a bull dyke lesbian (please don’t tell her I said that) – as she entered into me from behind with a strap-on.

The rest is all a blur to me, I barely remember it save to say that I am truly sorry that my pretty little pink penis attracted the amours of half the faculty and most of the student body present on campus that day.

I hope you can forgive me for having a hard-on in the men’s locker room. But please, when deciding my punishment, remember that I wouldn’t have received the ardor and adoration of so many people in one, large, male-musk filled room if my daily thoughts hadn’t been corrupted by a lovely, married lady with a voluptuous body and demanding hands.

If anyone needs to be punished it’s the women who’ve corrupted me! I was an innocent, naïve young man until they transformed me into the depraved, lust filled monster whose fate lies in your fair hands.

Please decide justly when you consider my punishment.

Thank you for hearing me,

~Virgohippy

I have a confession for you.

My neck is sore, and not from studying! Last night I got tied up and tossed around like a rag doll by a cute little Asian woman with very skillful hands. Over and again, I aimed blows at her face with my battle hardened fists, yet I couldn’t land one. She’d dodge my quick strikes, wrap herself around me, and drop me face first onto the floor. And, as if my attempts to break her body with the force of my own wasn’t enough, she’d encircle her arms around my neck, causing asphyxiation, like a python squeezing the life from its prey before a feast.

Don’t think I’m complaining. I enjoyed every moment. Even though I hurt now, it was worth it.

Its finals week for this California, college hippie, and during hectic times like these I relish in consensual, aggressive fun with people I trust. And pleasurable pain through practicing martial arts is my chosen way to release tensions.

I’m sure this is one more reason why my friends often describe me as a tad bit “unusual” but I enjoy the abuse. There’s a certain intimacy that develops between people who knowingly give and receive pain to one another in a way that’s both respectful and desired. We can tie each other up with our limbs, force each other into submissive postures, wail on muscle hardened flesh and otherwise do things to each other we couldn’t get away with on the streets - and all with the feeling that we’re helping one another.

I especially enjoy aggressive play with this sexy and petite Asian chick. When she wraps her arms around me, presses her petite breasts into my back and squeezes my neck between her arms until I’m forced into submission, I often get aroused. I can’t help it. It’s an exhilarating feeling to be in such a vulnerable position, yet still trust her with my life. Even though we’re fighting, and so I’m supposed to resist until I’ve been beaten, I enjoy getting lost in the moment by giving up complete control of my breath to this skillful young woman.

It’s not all fun though. I do have one problem with this often arousing relationship - this misleadingly small bodied woman, with iron hands and a vice-like grip, is an outspoken lesbian. And her often aggressive reactions to my flirtatious personality don’t help my awkward attraction.

Even though she’s not a character in my recent, and just slightly exaggerated, little piece of auto-biographical eroticism, my lesbian bitch sex story, she is the reason I felt compelled to share. It was because of her forceful hands, which are skillfully adept at giving me pleasurable pain, that I was inspired by nostalgic feelings.

While discussing my recent lesbian bitch sex story with Simon, owner of The XLog, an adult blog I like to frequent, I mentioned my appreciation for asphyxiation. The dark lord of fetish sex agreed that my not-so-innocent little kink is an especially flavorful one, and being the connoisseur of painful pleasures, he turned me onto an article about erotic asphyxiation.

If you didn’t catch the link before, and you’re considering breathe play, Click Here to read more about safer practices when performing erotic asphyxiation. This is not a request. Erotic asphyxiation should not be done without a few guidelines.

For those of you who already know the pleasures of breathe control play, here’s a tasty little treat for you: some pics of a boss lady rough handling her submissive gal.

Also, if you wonder why I describe Simon as the Dark Lord of Fetish Sex, it’s because he always seems to know about every kind of kink you can find at places like The Fetish Club.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to rub a peppermint aroma, herbal balm into my neck before I scamper off to bed, perform another kind of relieving rub, and fantasize about an angry lesbian bitch.

Pleasant erotic dreamings,

~Virgohippy