"For once it just wasn't some dick."
"How's that? This is my trick ear."
"I was forced to desire something else."
"What?"
"Huh?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"I won't say desire, but for once I started feeling that he was this time saying things with his tongue that still got me wet."
"And it's not even noon yet."
"I was confused."
"You?"
"Yeah. He was saying these beautiful things about love, talk in such a way that I can't describe. He would even listen to me, meet my low level demands with ease. Shit, I would forget I was talking. I had such a sexual edifice that this experience left me unprepared. It gathered me by surprise. I slipped and fell."
"Doesn't seem like your type."
"He was physically. it was a trap. Generally with those that I'm attracted to I have no problem with a pre game show. It is generally alcohol ridden or it is loaded with flat conversation and long pauses. But I stay prepared. I stay resilient. The sex is what I am signed up for. The mental abuse is what my ticket stub says; all while I approach the bedroom."
"But again that doesn't seem like his method of operation."
"But that's just it. Something he said out in the living room, something he made me feel fucks with my wiring when we are in the bedroom. It is like his whole visage--not necessarily the sex act, is what makes it more titillating. I can have an orgasm with picture of him in my mind sitting in a pair of chinos, rather than plowing into me from behind."
"You like that?"
"I like that."
"OK."
"It is almost like what he is saying is affecting me beyond what I think is my only sexual satisfaction. It's like what I have demanded for myself has been extremely low. I have under sold myself ."
"But you never expected that much anyway. Your stories of sex have just been silly escapades."
"True, it was a hobby of a distracted mind, but he has forced me to demand something else from my sexual experiences. In the end I just want to feel this...whatever it is, without even having them."
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