The Inner Slut

The first thing that I realized when I started to recognize the Inner Slut is that there is a world of difference between love and lust, sex and romance. It was Alex/Felix who told me that men are dogs. His own words. At that time, I didn't know what he was talking about. It took some time. I guess I'm still discovering how men can be dogs in terms of sex.

That survey cited in the previous entry finds support in the article cited by Ton, Orgasm Wars. The theory is that women are not passive subjects in the sexual act but, rather, active participants. Even then, their active participation is not conjunctive to men's own, but individual and particular to women's own needs. This brings to mind one Newsweek article some years back that cited a study that shows that the ovum is equipped with tentacle-like arms that sweep the sperm toward the egg -- to ensure fertilization.

Orgasm Wars also supports the scientific theory against monogamy. That theory holds that men are naturally promiscuous, bearing in mind the natural instinct to "sow their wild oats" as far and as wide as they can; that women are just as naturally promiscuous -- to ensure that they get the best of the gene pool. Ultimately, the propagation of the species dictated that both men and women go through several partners in their lifetime. Monogamy is a human construct, social and political; it was never natural. I also like the theory that orgasms produce an "upsuck" to ensure high sperm retention. That's very logical. I also find it very kinky.

I don't know about the selection process, of whom among my partners I (subconsciously) perceive to produce the best sperm. Orgasm Wars cites bilateral body symmetry, or physical attraction as the basis for this selection process, and emphasizes that skill (in the sexual act) has nothing to do with it.

In my case, the only guy I was really attracted to was Tom. Tom with the big dick and boundless energy. This guy can make me cum even without my touching myself; with his cock deep in my pussy; with me on my hands and knees, pussy throbbing from his frenzied fucking. Gad, but I squirted cum with this guy like I was peeing.

The others aren't unattractive; they're just not bilaterally symmetrical. But that didn't get in the way at all. Take, for instance, Dale: short, pink, round and balding. This is the guy who had me cumming like forever. In the end, there was no dry spot left on the bed to lie on, except under the pillows. And all he did was finger-fuck me. No penetration, just fingers and mouth and tongue. And what about Stew? I didn't think he was remarkably attractive. In fact, he reminded me of a gay friend who has the same mouth and chin and jawline. But I squirted so much more cum with him than I did with Dale at any one time, and in so short a time.

My clit is there for a reason: to give me pleasure, to ensure that I can attain pleasure even if my partner doesn't do it for me. Squirting I can do only after prolonged stimulation. Maybe pheromones help a bit, and other subconscious processes, neurological chemicals, blah. But my point is, it is possible to isolate pleasure. And the more you learn how to do this, the easier it is to achieve pleasure. Or pleasurable heights. Oh yeah, the high. This is it for me. Squirting while my partner du jour watches and is reduced to a speechless, awe-struck entity. Oh, the power that this produces! (Subject of another analysis; requires much clear thinking.)

If there was a guy I'd ask to give me a baby, it would be Dale first, then Carl, then Tom. In that order. If there was a guy who I'd live my life with, it would be these same men, in the same order. But do I love these men? I can honestly say, no. Dale and Carl would be wise choices, as they are very successful in their careers, very able, very intelligent, very responsible. Tom would be pure whimsy, simply because he's sweet and caring, a decent sort, and very horny. They all are.

There is no romance involved here. There is a lot of respect, and admiration (on my part, although they view me as something quite remarkable, coming from this society), but nothing so uncertain as romance. Or love.

I think love grows over time. In my case, at least. With Dale and what we've had so far, no seed of love can be planted. Carl's own purpose for seeking me out is for companionship in his old age. Unspoken, of course, but I'm no fool. I have my own reasons for getting into this relationship with Carl, all of them practical. It wouldn't be difficult to love the guy, I'm sure I can but, over time.