Our Lives As Genitalia

Our Lives As Genitalia

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

Our Lives as Genitalia: A novel with an intense beating erotic main theme.It is subtitled: Signatures from between our legs, aroused by sex, penetrated by memory, yet screwed by the mind to always confront life in the present. The narrative begins as a series of erotic driven encounters but they all ripple back through later relationships in time, place and memory. It seems in the coupling moment that pleasure ignited by pleasures ignition remains uncomplex pleasure for two. However, memory tattoos even seemingly casual sex under our skin. It will meander back through association. The central crux of the story is reflective in its sensual unfolding: we are left with lingering consensual sexual memory. To sum up; the story is best described as thinking erotica unfolding a deep romantic core and the better side of our human nature; though in the heat of racy randy coupling and later separation; this is the last thing on our mind and that’s okay and the story lingers repeatedly in those intense pleasurable memorable moments of life and asks the reader to do the same...our lives as genitalia. The insight devoid of ego may come eventually. An erotic romance novel in forty chapters

Summary

Our Lives as Genitalia: A novel with an intense beating erotic main theme.It is subtitled: Signatures from between our legs, aroused by sex, penetrated by memory, yet screwed by the mind to always confront life in the present.

The narrative begins as a series of erotic driven encounters but they all ripple back through later relationships in time, place and memory. It seems in the coupling moment that pleasure ignited by pleasures ignition remains uncomplex pleasure for two. However, memory tattoos even seemingly casual sex under our skin. It will meander back through association.

The central crux of the story is reflective in its sensual unfolding: we are left with lingering consensual sexual memory.

To sum up; the story is best described as thinking erotica unfolding a deep romantic core and the better side of our human nature; though in the heat of racy randy coupling and later separation; this is the last thing on our mind and that’s okay and the story lingers repeatedly in those intense pleasurable memorable moments of life and asks the reader to do the same...our lives as genitalia.

The insight devoid of ego may come eventually.

An erotic romance novel in forty chapters

Chapter13 (v.1) - Edges

Author Chapter Note

Jenny and Luke have intense sex on the edge of the bed

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: November 23, 2015

Reads: 266

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Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: November 23, 2015

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Chapter Thirteen: EDGES

We can’t predict our next sexual encounter, our genitals expect it though, the sex. They are indifferent to what will emerge, you, as a more defined sexual being. Genitals are only interested in their next engagement, the rendezvous. Your latent vulnerable emerging sexuality can wait. Sex is the only agenda item for genitals and they sneer and scoff at the idea feelings can grow from merged genitals. A penis will expand; a clitoris will swell, but sexuality creating a more expansive self:

“Oh... go find a Lena and Leise, preferably both please”, is the chant of all cocks in response.

There is a skilfully awkward coupling beyond words, which could never be successfully choreographed in porn when two young people in the early stages of relationship defining sex face each other naked. They both know nothing of preferred position or preferences, their bodies know neither all the recesses nor curves brought into the life of genitalia and its supporting mind in sex. It will be instinctive, like in sleep, knowing where the edge of the bed is.

As it happened it was basic passion, all excitement, rhythm and enthusiasm, our bodies’ exuberance to feel both pleasure and to please. I don’t think I thought anything. I visually surveyed Jenny, the physical dominating. Her beckoning dark V, awaiting its pleasure and not in any sleazy way. My unfathomable Jenny lay on her back, legs widely parted, bent up at the knees, her chin resting on her chest. She was watching the thrusting between her inner thighs; it was her focus, not my face.

Males tend to think a female’s pussy is prominently there in its pubic glory for them, but don’t tend to actually reflect on how a standard erect penis must look to a woman, coming into them.  I felt then and now this moment was something both unusual and normal too. My gaze went to her mound where my penis was burying its head.

How long did our coupling last?  No records here for sustaining a personal erection under the pressure of matching the slower rate of Jenny’s accession to her sexual plateau. It was too exciting for me.

This was the evening following on from our under the doona activity with its tender manipulations of our privates. Now we had sex on the edge of her bed. My pleasure was concentrated and phallic. Jenny’s response was embracing and vigorous.

 We are not talking; ‘Oh yeah baby, your pussy is hot, so hot’ or ‘Fuck me, yeah, that’s it, fuck me harder’. There were no words exchanged between us, no sexual grunts or ‘ohs’ or ‘awhs’ either. However; the intensity was unparalleled in my life.

Jenny was in herself having sex but she was also watching herself having sex and I observed her watching herself. I too stared as we both had sex, both drawn to our genitals. Where were we?

Had Jenny been here before, on the edge of a bed? I had no prior experience of this position. She had moved confidentially and easily into a receptive spread pose. No coy femininity here. Modest and demure don’t apply. It was bare, overt and leading. To say she was assured and sexually certain isn’t true of the moment. It was however, striking, clearly expressive of need and immediate want. Bold, brave and unflinching, but steeped in youthful hopeful need for instantaneous reciprocation. It remains the salient; most physically hot-blooded night of my existence; as it activated two bodies together.

The sex act was overpowering yet its ancillary component was cerebral. Undertones and overtones of memory were being shaped forever in a mutual fastening of bodies in a generic location and with no reference to time, as it was persistently passing. I can’t recall a single detail of her bedroom. No memorabilia distracted my focus. Nothing diverted me from Jenny’s body to her possessions. No inkling of her broader personality processed.

 One body over the other, mine; the other body under, Jenny’s; was watching over the sex. The unrelenting mood was not sensual or romantic. It was acutely human in a way neither of us could have imagined or planned. If I had anticipated the evening I could never have envisaged this would be how we would express ourselves sexually to and for each other. It was concentrated, concerted, cooperative sex.

The overwhelming majority of sexual coitus for Jenny and I would not involve the direct glare of genitals. My Janus face looking at her Janus face, the full physical reality under harsh strong light, two sets of hinged genitals, with nowhere to hide. They didn’t want to hide on the edge of her bed; genitals delighting in light, unabashed, confronting each other with full physical directness and our faces and thoughts were drawn in by their lure. This was sex with a comprehensive, crotch focus. Fuckbuddy sex, it looked like it. No; there was nothing immodest or salacious here. The act itself, however performed, as long as it’s consensually and willingly received, has no guilt, can’t be questioned as to its appropriateness, has no thought, and has no memory in itself as genitalia. The review when its memory; comes from how we scrutinise it and how we try to recapture it, remake it and rethink it into what it was or what it actually wasn’t. It was on the night; awesome in its entirety, on the edge of Jenny’s bed.

 Our genitals were happy with each other on the edge of a bed, at the threshold of a relationship, about to hopefully push farther on, and in and out of each other. Our privates were like two people meeting face to face, it was not however, their first introduction. Well it was obscured by the dark.  This was a reintroduction, yet it had the feel this was like two well known friends embracing after being apart for an extremely long time. Yet it was only the previous evening full carnal familiarity had taken place between Jenny and I. This was the physical ante being explored by two.

For Jenny and me; on the edge of her bed; it was bonded, zealous, resolute pleasure- seeking. Its scope expanded into an amazingly intense, fully frantic, pleasurable combination of two. Our separate private flesh meshed in an enthusiastic juncture of revelry.

When I now recall the pair on the edge of the bed; my eyes are deeply rooted in the scene. Jenny’s eyes suggested she too was undeniably; passionately in the scene. In memory we see the scene both as inside and outside. I see myself, I see Jenny, and I see us both. There: it’s been over analysed. We were also actually together for no other reason than we were young and sexual beings. There is the straight forward version: it was a youthful woman expressing her sexual need, legs splayed wide, desire exposed and fucking openly. She wanted it and she was going to get it. She was going to excite, she would seek and hopefully pleasure would be delivered. It was an amazing fuck on the edge of a bed. I really enjoyed the sex. I was completely in the cohesion of our bodily viscidity. Where though was this uniting and pleasurable attaching viscosity taking us both?

The expression of her sexuality, my sexuality joined it; it became our combined face of sexuality. It was vivid, pushing to the explored limits of bodily equipment on the edge of her bed. Her head, I will always picture was on her chin, watching my penis. My eyes expected to meet hers; however, I saw her amber pools looking at her own extensive pubic triangle being fed by my penis head, driving into her in a measured sustained way. I was Janus faced, trying to take in two views at once. I looked at her face full of concentration, so absorbed in her own pussy and my cock; looking down between her own legs, and my gaze turned downwards. I saw my penis tunnel with intense vehement commitment towards its own orgasm. So intensely fixed were two faces on their genitals combining, neither of us were beyond ourselves. This was where our genitals appeared to have an independent life of their own, a capacity to position us in a different way than we want or wanted to see self; as a giver first or a receiver of given pleasure. We confront ourselves as lustful, greedy and hungry for sex, in a powerfully straight, no questions, uncommitted and even detached way. Here was a body seeking a body; there seemed no soul to body involvement.

When Janus faces Janus, is it merely sex? Yet it was Jenny facing Luke and Luke facing Jenny. Yes and No. We were both looking at the compaction of our usually secluded disconnected genitals, drawn together in her bedroom by their persistent frictional incline of pleasure generation. Here were two surging sex lives confronting one another and perhaps edging past the physical.

Just sex: What does that mean? It’s not a relationship yet, and where is the point of transition, if it occurs, between a few casual fucks and moving on and into a broader commitment enveloping the sex and penetrating the mind? Questions like these were nowhere in my mind on the edge of a fetching young woman’s mattress, our genitals conflated equally in a cynosure of brilliant raw focus.

Her head was on her chin, my response, where my eyes went too, after initially searching for her amber circles, was based on the position of Jenny’s body. Is this a cop out for being caught cuntsruck again or was it, is it also a question of the dominance of genitals or a dominant partner? Who was initiating what, was there a balance or equality of instigating sex and positions? The instigation was mutual and reciprocally timed, in sync there, we both wanted it and we both wanted it regular. The positioning of bodies, the initial night, Jenny had started above me, but I took the missionary position for our first coupling together. In time, Jenny revealed openly, this was not her preferred position. She liked to be on top and this became our default pairing. Yet here on our second encounter, she was on the edge of her bed. Jenny chose her pose. Openly exposing her lush triangle, legs spread, bent at the knees, inviting strong, pumping, energetic sex. She wanted it full and hard. She got it stiff and filling.  Maybe this was my response to her positioning or my reaction to being too gentle, the night before? It’s the mind complicating sex; genitals are all for immediate unconditional fucking: tender or intense.

The edge of a mattress; two separate minds, and two responding interlocking bodies, genital bound, Janus present. Everything in our pasts had brought us here, especially last night, particularly a stunning kiss and always more. Memory will sort everything out because we don’t need to; we were there, enjoying sex on the edge of a bed. A common paired position, yet we were linked without considering it, because we were consumed in self. Any coupled position we might have chosen would have linked us to humanities sexual Janus; every consensual sexual expression, past, present and future. The edge, we saw ourselves, not the whole. The edge of the bed was fucking great sex. Yesterday’s sex was already yesterdays. We were there then and we were not thinking about tomorrow. We were intensely making out on the edge of her bed. We were accepting each other through sex. Genital absorbent. Pussy imbibing penis. Cock permeable in a young woman. It was exceptional, special and unrepeatable.

All the following accepted sex with Jenny, was so bloody mind glowingly and penis flowingly good, where did the Raine moments go to? Idle fantasy needs idle moments, no idle moments here. I was so into Jenny, surely I would see her naked and fucking me or nude and ready to have sex. I knew enough of her body to complete a range of standard Raine like fantasies. There were no fantasies or daydreams. Jenny was there for me. I suppose I was in the zone of getting my fair share, not too little, not to gratuitously much, the actual ‘just right’. But what was right for me; was it also sexually fulfilling for Jenny?

Sexual expectations vary. Still it was a surprise to get, “I thought you would have come around last night”, from Jenny; at a later stage in our relationship.

I was committed to a meeting, it had run on and on with policies, agenda delays and postponements and collective indecision. All of these combined for a late finish. I didn’t even phone Jenny. I thought, ‘Shit it’s too late to go over tonight,’ and I was tired anyway, and went to sleep, nothing more. Jenny was left alone with her body and her thoughts: expressed as; ‘I thought you would have come over last night’.

Perhaps fantasy isn’t solely a male preserve. I don’t think I ever caught myself daydreaming of Jenny in frilly knickers and suspenders. She was realistic and practical. Me as fantasy material; well she had mentioned my butt.  The idea of my rear end being checked out as attractive, struck a discordant male note. The idea I was okay physically and my butt scored high, well she could imagine me how she wanted.

 There is only memory to rely on. So I brought a slightly different ‘me’ to the ‘us’ of sex each time as did my amber eyed partner. Jenny, told me later; she thought I was a virgin, from my original kiss and our first night together. She was mistaken; my end had been in here and there. However, I realised I was a neophyte when it came to our forward moving relationship and the pursuit of love.


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