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Since I spend much of my life in my own head, and much of that time is spent in masturbatory fantasy, I"m trying to become more aware of the content of my fantasies -- I've spent the last day with a fantasy flashing in my mind, one that is wonderfully erotic but completely....well, I don't know. In my mind I'm watching...
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desperado54:
I took a few of those silly "quizzes" last night--you know, the ones that ask strange questions to tell you what your personality is like. I took two on the topics of "What Kind of Sexy Are You?" and another on "What Kind of Lover Are You?" The results couldn't have been more opposite. For the first one I rated, "Wild and Kinky" or something like that.  Reassuring, yet not surprising.  The second on my rating as a lover took me back. I rated something like "Complete Failure." How could this be? I thought. Upon reflection I realize that, yes, indeed, I can fuck you all night until your teeth get loose and you pray for relief even as you keep saying,' keep going.'  On the other hand, I realize that I loved the soul of a woman many years ago. Then that was it.  My desire for her, for her soul, for her in her essence, was beyond words. But then it ended. And I was empty.  Since then I suppose that I've been a good fuck, but not a good lover. Sobering.
desperado54:
The eyes, the heart, the soul, spirit and body of a woman is a poem that can and should be written...by her lover who does so with fingers, and as is caught as she breathes out her passion.