Sex with Myself
For some, having sex with themselves is almost as much fun as having sex with men. My take? I rather have the real thing. Pleasuring myself is like cooking a four course meal, spreading the table, lighting the candles, popping the cork off the best champagne and then sitting down to eat alone. Not my thing. For those who veer in the opposite direction, they argue, who better than themselves to know where on the body to touch? They know how to use their hands, fingers and an assortment of toys and personal tricks to get the job done. It requires skill to know how to massage gently in some areas, add pressure and friction in the next, when to be quick with the movements and when to move really, really slow. For those who are unfortunate enough not to know the joy of having regular orgasms, (Super! Put your damn hands down people are watching), the state is usually found by knowing the pleasure points on the body intimately.
I say, that while the body is an adequate receptacle for all this loving, you have to make love to the mind just as diligently. Having mind sex involves tasting the tang of the sweet things you say to yourself on your lips. It requires pushing past the tight, painful barriers erected in the sub conscious that stops you from giving yourself praise. It means gently rubbing away the painful sting of self-criticism. But most importantly, it requires knowing the mind intimately so that you can give it everything it desires to perform at its best. Not to be crass but the term mind f*%k has a whole new meaning. Sometimes making love to your mind is all you need for a successful release.
Are you having sex with yourself?