tagReviews & EssaysCompletely Coherent Essay

Completely Coherent Essay


It might be an unpopular position that there are at least twenty places a man can fuck a women, with his cock stiff and erect and ready to bust. It may be even less popular that a woman can enjoy any one of those ways equally to a man. Few girls actually derive pleasure from having their earhole fucked, a sticky head jamming up against the cartilage, depositing streaks of precum in the hole. She hears that obnoxious sound of pounding in her ear, she can only make strained eye contact with her lover, she can only restrain him with one arm. Yet, somehow, somewhere there is a girl who loves it, wants the whole load oozing out of her head at the end of sex, wants only to be pounded in the side of the head until a migraine mounts and her neck becomes stiff for the love of pure earsex. Maybe it has nothing to do with the where and when, maybe all that's important is that she is pleasing her man, and maybe he doesn't even enjoy earfucking, maybe he gets off on the fact that she loves him so much that she would endure someone smashing their cock into the side of her face, and he loves her for that. That must be making love, no matter how absurd it is. In the same way that one couple in a million is earfucking with neither of them actually physically enjoying it, there are one million couples who want to try something absurd, but are too embarrassed, or proud, or respectful of their partner's wishes to even bring it up.

While I wouldn't be one of those earfuckers, if someone wanted me to do it to them, I would. I would disappear from the world for a week and play slave for her if she wanted me to, and she knows that, but she thinks it's too weird. I would love her to do the same for me, and she doesn't know that, and she never will, because she wouldn't want to be thought of that way, and I know that. So why don't I get off on not enslaving my love. Why don't I flip the script and consider my repression a form of loving servitude and sacrifice? Not all love is sex, but, I believe, all sex is love, in some form or another.

There is no clear line between romance and fetish. I like to place my fingers firmly on her inner thighs and pull the skin outward to see how the elastic skin connects to her plump outer lips. Exactly how much tension does it take for them to separate and expose those shy inner beauties? And for how long need that tension be applied? And the inner lips, what makes them open to me? It's like watching an apple tree blossom. The petals fall away and a green fruit hangs there for you to sink into, save the sweet juice, suck on the seeds and spit them out with a trickle of saliva.

Equally, that whore on your computer screen shows you the forbidden fruit, the red delicious prolapse that she forces from her asshole with the sound of a well lubricated fart. Is it depraved to get off to her? Is it depraved to love her?

Rape, non-consentual sex? Is that not love? There are hundreds getting off on reading rape stories on Literotica. Even that highly personal non-fiction you posted here about molestation, sexual trauma, anonymous assault? Someone (presumably male, right?) has masturbated to it. That story about the abusive Dom/me who took it too far-- no, not the one where she cried "no! stop! please!", but the one where she cried the humorous safeword with utter seriousness, agony and despair: "llama!", "chiffon!", "rosebud!" and the punishment still does not relent. That's the one that really turns them on.

We have intentionally reversed the connotation of words, perverted them. Is that depravity, or is it still in realm of sex and love and romance? That mentally ill person on the street who rapes someone in broad daylight, is that love or just mental illness? Can rape be unrequited love? we don't like to think of rape like anything but a hate crime, a violent crime, a powerplay, but it is also sexual in nature. There is a certain aspect of love to even choosing victims.

No matter how far I disappear down this rabbit hole, I'll find the rabbits who dug the whole and seen the mole people deep down and kept digging and still never saw the bottom.

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