Bitchicisms

I've never been good at turning it off. O was a master at that. One minute I could be sucking his cock in the rest room, the next he could be coolly working in his desk without a thought about the fact I was blowing him moments before.

MMG (My Moral Guardian) told me recently (upon prompting) that to him sex didn't matter, it wasn't important, which is why he was able to remain celibate and chaste for long periods of time. He didn't go looking for it. I told him, "what if you don't go looking for it? But the opportunity always presents itself?" He responded that I still wanted sex. And this lead to a whole other conversation where I admitted to loving sex and seeking his affirmation that this didn't make me an evil nymphomaniac. MMG relented that it didn't make me pure evil that I should just take responsibility for my actions and not run whining to them if something bad happens to me because of my adventures. And, well, I never really have.

Getting turned on easily has always been a trait of mine. Even as a younger person, I would be reading some silly book and I'd get turned on (incidentally, the story of how I first learned to masturbate at around 12). The only problem is turning it off. When you're unbelievably horny and release is nowhere near, what the fuck do you do?

Well, I save it til it counts. Then when I do have sex there's just this insane energy that gets tapped into. But it always took me some time before I could quench the heat flowing through my veins. Worth it though. The prolonged and delayed release. The eventual orgasm. Priceless.