Pysicality Carnality, as described to me in a very nice letter written to me when I was 20 by a 36 year old woman.
"Dear Kevin, In answer to your question, yes. I do think it is amazing how horny you are and how it seems like things we are doing are kind of taking over your mind! But I wanted to try and express to you how the feelign is mutual or perhaps even slanted a bit further in my directions. I can hardly even express to you the sensations / the stirrings of passion and basic carnal lust that flow through me. That build within me through the days or weeks that I am craving. You describe a need, an immediate physical longing. For me it is this deep rhythm of my thoughts and feelings and connected with my body in the most intimate ways imaginable. And when it becomes physically apparent to me, I feel it. Feel the need like nautre's caresing hands, coaxing me to lay for you. Coaxing me to open my legs only just as FAR OPEN as i can fucking stretch them... coaxing me to arch my back and stretch every fiber of my being. And coaxing me to temptation of you.
Please understand my temptations of you are only part of your temptations of me. Carnality is when I am laying there and we have both succum to the anticipations and the throbbing longings. And you are in me. And I feel the tips of my nipples tingling and erect and I feel the weight of my breasts rolling around on my chest in rhythm with your pushing me. Pushing into me.
And when I am deprived, and dont' have this, the thing that rises to the surface in my mind - the visceral sensual memory that clenches the nagging desires and half-forgot pleasures is this - Laying there, being ridden, my legs as wide as i can fucking make them, being ridden into. And I can feel the weight of your FUCKING BALLS bouncing against my asshole. Just bouncing. Just bouncing and bumping and squashing into me as you drive into me. YOur balls. Your testicles. Make the hormones that drive you horny and insane, make you desire make you flirt, cause you to ride me, and now bounce against me. Bounce until the cum they make injects so fucking deep into me between my open legs.
Your pleasure. My pleasure. Our bodies. Our natures. Carnality."
I felt like something kind of clicked in life and sex when I was 19 or so. I went to work as an intern for a summer job at a medical clinic where my mom works. I was basically in the office filing boxes of paperwork all day and pulling files from the storage room. I'd make runs in the company van to a warehouse twice a day.
One of the secrataries was 25. She was recently single. She immediately kind of smiled with her tongue, flirting when we first shook hands, "Nice to meet-cha!" She admitted laughing later the very same day she 'liked' younger guys.. 'for my own reasons.'
I gave her my cell number, thinking maybe we'd go out. Have dinner. Something of that nature.
Nope. At midnight, my phone lit up my darkened bedroom.A single picture of her from apparently earlier that day.
I am not bragging. I am 24. I have fucked as far as i can tell around 60 women. It is a dizzying mindfuck-of a memory of naked legs and tits in my face and shooting cum up backs. I am actually here writing because that is what I thought I would do with my life. And I got side tracked. By my penis. LOL
Stats: Attractive male, in good shape, play soccer on weekeds for fun with friends some of the time. Some college, but not a completed degree. Seem to have trouple following through, easily distracted. I supose I'll get into that. It is usually women you hear about going to counselors etc for 'sex addiciton' etc etc. I have been through three different rounds of counseling, first when I was 16 after an affair with a woman my mother's age that lasted six months. Again when I was 19 and dropped out of community college because I couldn't keep my grades up and fucked a teacher. And third, about a year ago.
And now once more, I wake up still in the middle of the night with an eight inch erection and these pounding wicked memories and thoughts of things I have done. Like a rhythmic satanic drumbeat in my mind. No. It's just the sound of my pounding heart. And believe me. I give in to it. I try not to. Writing helpse. Sometimes. As a distraction.
But when you're kind of like me you kind of have a network of people you know. And there's my phone. And there are numbers I can text. And even though I DON'T want it to start up again, sometimes I am just resigned, heart pounding, mind churning. And I give in. And I text a couple well chosen words to someone. And despite my best efforts to get my fucking mind and life together, my penis once again finds itself pounding right up a fucking tight slippery cunt. And the pleasure comes and fucks my mind.
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