This really is not a porn site,

but I do find myself thinking and therefore writing about sex a lot. Big Papa tried like hell to have sex last night. I knew he wanted it for about an hour before he finally started touching me. I wasn't really in the mood (shocking) but I figured, what the hell if he touches me long enough and says the right things I'm sure my mind can be changed.

BIG PROBLEM. My mind kept wandering to Mr. Beautiful. How would he touch me? What would he smell like? Then (being the absolute horrible person that I am) I tried to just close my eyes and pretend Big Papa was Mr. Beautiful. No go. Not only could I not make the mental switch, the fact that it was not Mr. Beautiful pretty much turned me off.

Has Mr. Beautiful ruined me??? I'm sure he as not, I am sure this is just a temporary side effect but still....

I suppose I should complete the story to say that he finally managed to find the right spot to turn me off enough to decided to do the deed. But that is all it really felt like, a deed. I did get off, but again I think I probably just owe that to myself. Shit.

I Find Myself

debating with myself more and more often lately. The most recent question was, "Are women who truly enjoy sex, whores?". As a female and one who really really enjoys sex, I snap my head and shout, "No!". Because I am in no way a whore. Well, I guess that would depend on who you ask.

I have had my share but not over-abundance of partners. I have experimented with all sorts of different "kinks". I have zero problem with initiating sex or being pissed off if I am denied. I love to role play and talk dirty. I do have boundaries though. I know enough about fairly mainstream fetishes (is that an oxymoron?) to know that I am in no means a freak. I no my boundaries but I love to push the envelope on them, you know?

Early this evening, my husband (Big Papa) and I were getting it on. I, of course, initiated it. I was teasing him as he began to unbutton my shirt and pushed his hand away and asked him what kind of girl he thought I was. Now mind you, my hands were below the belt, if you catch my drift. This went on for a little while and I asked again, "don't you think I am a good girl?". He laughed and then hesitated. "Sure". Then I asked if he thought I was a a whore and he replied, "ummm, well, no, not really". WTF!!! I sort of let is pass so we could just continue with the deed and not ruin the moment, but later as I clean myself up from some really over the top amazing sex, I started to question myself. Maybe I am a whore. I mean I really love sex. I have great sex. Why wouldn't I love it? But why do I have great sex? Because I love it and won't settle for sub-standard performances.

And then it hit me as I looked at myself in the mirror while I washed my hands. It isn't necessarily great sex that I have, but great orgasms. I know how to get myself really turned on, let myself come to the brink a few times and then when I can't possible resist anymore I enjoy a full-body, earth-shattering orgasm. But did I really even need Big Papa for it? What did he do to contribute to its greatness other than provide the equipment? In fact, I attempted many times (as usual) to talk dirty to him and in an attempt to get him to reciprocate, ask him lots of questions. His answers are always one word. Blah, what a turn off. I want him to get really into it and start just speaking with out thinking because he is just past the point of thinking and can only feel now. Sigh, but he just isn't into pushing the great limits that you can with sex. He is probably pretty much OK with average. As long as he gets off then all was good. Doesn't he realize he could get off even harder and more intense. And even more have such a tantric sexual experience that the entire thing feels like one amazing orgasm.

We've been married for over seven years.