Faintness and Abandon

Another engagement with Sarah in a hotel by the airport. I’ve visited her at least a dozen times, but the erotic delights she provides do not get tiresome. When I was younger and striving for purity, I thought the fascination with sex must wear off after repeated exposure. I discovered instead that my erotic appetite is insatiable.

Now I’m behind her on the bed. I grab her hips, then slowly push my cock inside her. I hear her moan. I begin pumping my cock into her slowly. My fingers dig into her waist. “God….” she sighs breathily. My cock rhythmically moves in and out, in and out. Her moans are like music, and I keep thrusting, harder and deeper. I’m getting lost in the moment. The cosmos is concentrated in this hotel room, on this bed, in this woman. It’s just the two of us right there, and I’m losing myself in her. As pleasure overwhelms me, my rational faculties dim. My hips instinctually rotate back and forth in a muscular frenzy. Grunts and groans escape my mouth without permission. I start to feel that “faintness” and “abandon” described by Shelley.

Bataille insisted that the “whole business of eroticism is to destroy the self-contained character of the participators as they are in their normal lives.” In my normal life I put a premium on self-control. I’m obsessed with propriety. I rigidly schedule my time. I’m excessively rational. I’m painfully self-conscious. I’m stuck in my head. What is so frightening, and exhilarating, about eroticism is that it forces me to “let go” and plunge into ecstasy. It’s a release from my ordinary repressed self and my mundane concerns. In the heat of passion, no longer subsumed by my identities, I’m reduced to my erection. There’s an absence of moral judgment. It’s as if I enter an erotic trance, and “what was expected of heaven or fear’d of hell” (Whitman) is banished from my consciousness.

Orgasm is surrendering to the experience. Philosopher Sara Heinamaa observes, “Orgasmic experience does not manifest the threefold structure of experienced time.” The temporal order of past, present, and future organizes most experience. Memories of prior events and the anticipated future mold the contours of the here and now. The experience of orgasm is different. “It dislocates the experiencing subject temporarily and seems to raise her above time or press her underneath its surface,” according to Heinamaa. Orgasm is experienced as a loss of consciousness (la petite mort) and is analogous to artistic inspiration, spiritual illumination, and even madness. It is the experience “of stepping outside oneself and transcending one’s limits.” Ekstasis. No wonder films have commonly alluded to orgasm through depictions of naturalistic “images of overflow and explosion” such as waterfalls and fireworks.

Afterwards with Sarah, I tried to recollect myself. Post coitum omne animalium triste est. Her itinerary will next take her to Orlando. I quietly dressed. She gave me a kiss on the cheek, then I exited her room.

Sinful Sunday

An Episcopalian colleague invited me to Evensong at his church this evening. I initially accepted. But that was before I made an appointment with “Alyssa.” The compartmentalization of my religious and sexual lives extends even to Sundays. I had spent most of the day at church being “holy.” Now this Sunday was to turn sinful.

When I arrived at the hotel early this evening, Alyssa texted me her room number and asked that I give her a few more minutes to prepare. I waited a short while in the lobby then went up to the room and knocked on the door. The door opened. I beheld a lithe blonde in a tight black dress. She extended her hand and introduced herself before welcoming me in. I set the donation on the table. Ambient music played in the background.

Alyssa is originally from Eastern Europe and speaks with a charming accent. She’s transplanted to California and is touring the East Coast. There were some friendly words spoken between us, then….

She undid my belt buckle. I started unbuttoning my shirt. She pulled off her dress to reveal a black bra and black thong panties. She unhooked her bra and revealed a perky pair of breasts. By now I only had my boxer briefs on. We kissed, and I sucked on both of her nipples. She worked her way down to my growing erection. She stroked and kissed my balls and my cock before taking me into her mouth. I let out a slight groan. Her hands grabbed my ass and drew me deeper into her mouth. I looked down to see her as she knelt before me, admiring the artistry with which she pleasured me. Then she stood up, pulled down her panties, grabbed a condom, and moved to the bed. She put the condom on me, briefly lubricated herself, then got on her back and spread her legs.

”Fuck me,” she softly moaned.

I got on top of her and slipped my hard rod inside her. With a series of deep thrusts I explored her depths, with the attendant indescribable sensations. Then we switched positions and she mounted me cowgirl. I grabbed her tits with my hands as she gyrated on top of me. I wanted to fuck her from behind. I asked her to get on all fours. She got on her hands and knees. I only lasted a couple of minutes behind her before I was overcome by ecstasy.

Time was almost up, and she asked me if I wanted to shower. I accepted her offer and washed away the sweat that had resulted from my exertions. After I dressed, she gave me a sweet kiss. Then I departed her hotel room.

Other Kind of Worship

“You intrigue me.”

“Alexandra” was attired only in a sheer black robe which revealed her bra and panties underneath. She hosted me in her hotel room as she was visiting. The information I had provided for screening had piqued her interest.

“I’ve never been with someone from the church before.”

She went on to say that she attended a conservative high school and was “extremely religious.” She was raised Baptist and was active in her church: Bible study, youth group, Wednesday night service. “But now I’m into a whole other kind of worship!”

She then unhooked her black bra (size 44H!).

I immersed my face in her soft breasts. My tongue circled around her large areola, then it danced around her hard nipple. I took her nipple into my mouth and started to suck. Her mammaries received exquisite devotion on my part. Then she sighed:

“God, I’m so wet.”

She pulled off her panties and spread her legs on the bed. I lightly traced a finger between her labia and felt her wetness. I positioned my head between her legs. Her feminine scent was intoxicating. Gently spreading her lips apart, I slowly inserted my tongue into her pussy. She moaned as I ate her out, her hips slightly bucking against me.

After being pleasured for several minutes, she rolled over and grabbed a condom from the nightstand.

“What position?” she asked.

I told her to get on her hands and knees. She playfully jiggled her round, plump ass. I positioned myself behind her, inserted myself inside her, grabbed a hold of that ass, and started to pump.

We were both a long way from youth group.

Intense Pleasure

“I love giving head,” she said sweetly.

Her hand moved up and down my shaft before her mouth engulfed my manhood. I felt her tongue flicker over the head of my cock. Then she took me deep in her warm, wet mouth. After several minutes of intense pleasure, she gave me a naughty look and asked if she could have my cum in her mouth.

A few seconds later I lost control and filled her mouth with my cum.

“Amanda” was visiting at a nearby hotel. I scheduled an appointment with her via text message. After my obligations at church were fulfilled, I drove to her hotel and was at her door. She opened the door in sexy black lingerie. She’s a BBW with long brown hair, a cute face, and a cheerful demeanor.

Shortly after I climaxed, she sensed I wasn’t finished. I was soon standing at attention again. The condom went on. She positioned herself on the bed: face down, ass up. I positioned myself behind her ample rear, slipped myself into her, and grabbed onto her wide hips. I thrust deeper and deeper into her as sweat trickled down my body. Then I couldn’t hold back. I shuddered as I climaxed.

Amanda cleaned me up, then we lay in bed for a few minutes. Our conversation was casual (much of it was about baseball). Then I got dressed. We shared a final kiss, and I was on my way.

Voluptuary

I’m attracted to asceticism. Self-abnegation in the quest for spiritual perfection appeals to me. Part of me would welcome the monastic life.

There are certain pleasures, however, that can’t be found behind the walls of a monastery.

Pleasures like “Daniella.”

Visiting from out of town, Daniella is a petite (4’9″) blonde in her early twenties who looks younger. In accordance with my request, she met me in her hotel room in a short plaid schoolgirl skirt. She’s busty for her size; her tight white blouse barely contained her breasts. Her innocent countenance added to her appeal. As we innocuously chatted, I took notice of her mesmerizing green eyes.

Then she started unbuttoning her blouse.

“It’s the complicity of sin. It’s man and woman, finally awake, looking at each other for the first time since the apple fell on somebody’s head. It’s time! This is the gravity of sexual hunger.”

William Anselmi

The ascetic impulse dissipates in sexual frenzy. As my thrusting intensified and grew more urgent, smashing into her buttocks, the voluptuary asserted his preeminence. It was not the time for monkish self-denial. As our communion of the flesh reached its consummation, I experienced that “soft silent rapture and ecstatic bliss.”

Hot for Teacher

I encountered Dr. Sheffield earlier today. She taught an Old Testament course I took a couple of years ago. She’s the Dead Sea Scrolls scholar who belly dances as an avocation. We had a pleasant if brief conversation.

Dr. Sheffield is learned, engaging, and connected to her students. She’s also fucking hot. Her online faculty page lists her academic interests, which include interpreting the Bible as literature, biblical archaeology, and “body and sexuality studies.”

Relationships between professors and students are expressly verboten in divinity school. Dr. Sheffield’s long legs and tight derriere nonetheless make the prospect of illicit relations intriguing.

I pull off Dr. Sheffield’s dress and push her down over her desk. I run my hand over her smooth ass before I spank her. Hard. She yelps. Three more hard smacks. She then positions herself on the desk. No foreplay. Books and papers tumble onto the floor as our bodies rock against the desk….

Sexual Ache

I can’t seem to escape this deep sexual ache.

It’s a gnawing hunger that can’t be ascribed to mere arousal. Perhaps it can be attributed to some unaddressed psychic wound. Perhaps it’s simply the primeval desire to “know” a woman in the most physically intimate way possible. Whatever it’s source, it propels me to seek a remedy in sexual release.

It’s this ache that brought me to “Corinne’s” hotel room.

Corinne is a provider visiting from the Midwest. I discovered her on Twitter, was intrigued, and reached out to her. She quickly responded. We arranged an evening engagement.

When we met, she greeted me with a friendly hug. As we became acquainted with one another, I discovered that she had been a graphic designer before deciding to pursue a master’s degree while offering “companionship.” There was a girl-next-door quality to her, the type of girl I’d see at the coffee shop and admire from a distance.

She looked so nice, but….

She also gave off the vibe that she was willing to do bad, bad things.

She unfastened her bra. Her sweet, shapely little breasts beckoned. I caressed and kissed and licked them. Other parts of her body then received ample attention on my part. She generously returned the favor. The condom came on, and she lay back on the bed. She spread her legs open. I never fail to experience a sense of wonder when a woman opens herself up to me. She guided me into her. I pumped into her as she wrapped her legs around me, responding to my rhythm. My balls felt heavy and tight. I wanted to prolong the pleasure, but her squeal sent me over the edge. My balls contracted, signaling the onrush of orgasm. A few more thrusts, and I exploded inside her.

Afterwards I texted her a note of appreciation. A few minutes later she responded:

thank you love 🙂 hope to see you again

The ache was relieved. Temporarily.

Lustful Glances

Anne looked absolutely delectable in her white dress this morning. Her black high heels accentuated her shapely legs. Lustful glances stirred illicit desires. This evening I masturbated to her Facebook photos.

While the topic of sexuality hasn’t come up in the meetings of the young adults group I have attended, Anne is from a Wesleyan Holiness background which expects “celibacy within singleness.” (The conservative college she attended lists premarital sex as grounds for “separation from the university.”) Yet ἐπιθυμία is not so easily tamed. A professor of endocrinology at Oxford, noting the dictates of procreative biology, says simply, “I’d regard celibacy as a totally abnormal state.” I see in my members another law at war with the law of my mind (Rom 7:23).

Despite my pastoral commitments, I do not have a talent for celibacy. Burdened by a desire to fornicate with Anne, I struggle to refrain from acting inappropriately with her.

Then there’s Sally. She’s relatively new to the church’s young adults group. I imagined sliding my hand up her skirt, sliding her panties to the side, and slipping my finger inside her. I imagined her wetness, her cries of pleasure as she comes. I nevertheless behaved like a gentleman around her.

Perhaps I can find some photos of Sally on Facebook….

Single Mom

I’ve been communicating online with “Mandy,” a single mom in her early 30s. Her screen name is redhead_freak, which gives a good idea of her interests. (She described herself as a “sexual animal” who wants to be “taken” on her kitchen floor in the middle of the day. “Man, I need to get laid,” she once confessed unprompted.) It appears that we have nothing in common outside a shared interest in sex. We’ve had three X-rated chats so far. She lives a few hours away, and last night she broached the possibility of meeting in person for some fun. Neither of us is searching for a romantic partner on this forum, so the sex would come with nary a string attached.

My experience with Rhonda taught me that motherhood doesn’t necessarily dim the fires of lust. One horny mommy says, “Sex (and especially good sex) is an integral part of being a human being, mom or not. Being a mom and enjoying sex are not mutually exclusive.” The expectation that a single mom should be wholly consumed with parenting to the exclusion of more carnal pursuits probably brings a twinge of guilt to a mom who wants to exercise horizontally. Still, free from the confines of monogamy, some single moms adventurously explore their sexual freedom. One confessed in print that, after her divorce, she experienced a sexual awakening that included multi-partner sex, bondage, sex clubs, and male escorts.

Mandy certainly doesn’t seem like a stranger to sexual adventure. We’ll see where this goes.

“I make him wanna sin”

I nonchalantly set the plain white envelope down on the top of the desk. “Amanda” started to strip off her tight shirt and short black skirt. I unbuckled my belt and unbuttoned my pants. In only her black bra and panties, she hopped on the bed and invited me to join her. Having shed my clothes, I lay down on my stomach. Her hands began to massage my back. Music to set the mood played in the background.

He calls me the devil
I make him wanna sin

Amanda is visiting from California. Thick and curvy with long blonde hair, she’s a bubbly playmate in her mid-20s. “Just think of me as your girlfriend this evening!” she chirped. Her soft hands rubbed down my back until they reached my ass. “Mmmm, so tight!” she said. She kneaded my butt for several minutes, then flipped me over. Now it was time to get to know one another on a very intimate level. She caressed my balls, then then ran her fingers across that sensitive area just beneath my scrotum. Drops of precum ran down my shaft. Using my precum as lube, she started stroking me. Then she put her mouth to use. Her tongue swirled across the tip, then down the shaft. She started sucking, her head bobbing up and down. Just as I was ready to explode, she ceased her exertions.

Now I wanted to shove my head between her thick thighs. Amanda lay on her back and spread her legs. I crawled between her open legs and buried my face in her pussy. I tasted her wetness, her feminine tang. My tongue probed her depths. I ate her out until my jaw was sore. It was time for the main event. She slid the condom on, crawled on top, and rode me for several minutes. I wanted to enjoy the view from behind, so I requested that she get on her hands and knees. She assented to my request, and I started to fuck her doggy. I could hear myself slap against her bottom. I worked myself into a fast rhythm with thrust after thrust. It was all too much. My body tensed, and I groaned my release.