Chapter 15
Sex Has Its Own Logic
Some people devote their lives to sex. Others make sex a hobby. However, the majority of the population treat sex like going to the bathroom. There's a sudden need to do it, so they go and do it.
They lay or get laid when they can. When they can't, they jerk off. And they do whatever they do without any real enjoyment. They don't know that sex is like a good whisky, something to be sipped and savored.
To most people, sex is like hamburger, which may be all right, if they haven't tasted filet mignon. They make sex such a dull diet, when it should be sauced and spiced up like a bit of elegant French cooking.
The sex gourmet-likes to try other sex dishes, or else he gets bored. He-likes to change his sex routine.
Charley N. is one man who enjoys his sex. And maybe it's because he has a sense of humor. Charley's a single man who makes it with the girls when he can. But if no girl is available, he'll laugh with that good sense of humor and turn on his TV set. He has the best of fun stroking himself while the music plays for a group of scantily-clad dancers. And he doesn't have dull Saturday afternoons, with nothing to do. He'll pull his chair close to the TV and have a ball, just fooling with himself. He'll ball real chicks when they're around, but if they aren't, he'll go ahead and have his fun with what he's got.
He doesn't think he's weird, and he isn't. He says that when the TVs on, he'll pick out one pretty, sexy chick, and he'll masturbate in her honor. Hell stroke himself like a wild man, his eyes glued to the girl's jiggling ass. And what happens? Pretty soon, he shoots his come all over the place.
Sometimes, he'll stroke easy, holding his cock against his belly when he's about to shoot off and doesn't want to lose it yet. "Look at that little bitch," hell say aloud, to himself. "My, but wouldn't I like to get a piece of that little ass, suck that lovely cunt!"
Well, Charley gets what he wants by going ahead and dreaming about it. He says it's such a nice feeling, sitting in the living room with his pants unzipped and his ample cock hanging out.
He'll try something new in the sex line every time he gets a chance. He has absolutely no sense of embarrassment about sex.
Once, a young lady selling something door-to-door rang his bell during the time he was watching TV and jacking off. He hated to leave the TV set, for he'd been watching a cute little Chinese dancer, and he liked the girl's abilities. He stuffed his hard cock in his pants, but didn't zip up.
He answered the door, but he kept looking back. "It's that TV movie," he told the lady. "I sure got excited about that cute little Chinese chick."
Without invitation, the lady came in and followed him back to the TV set. "Where? Which is the girl?" she cried out, seeming to be getting excited herself. Once more, Charley had taken his tool out. Its sight and size thrilled the lady.
"Want me to help you with that?" she asked Charley, watching him jack himself off.
Charley shook his head. His eyes didn't leave the TV screen as he continued to play with his meat. "I'm doing it with her," he explained. "I mean, I'm pretending. Oh, Christ, what an ass that kid's got!"
Charley was juicy and happy and all tensed up, longing to put it in that little Chinese bopper. The fact that he couldn't, made it seem rather poignant. He sure was feeling a lot for that sexy little chick on the TV screen. She was going through the motions of a hump with a boy dancer, but you could tell they weren't doing anything. She wasn't even turned on by her partner.
When Charley couldn't stand it any longer, he reached out for the lady's cunt. He hiked up her dress and found her hole wet and juicy. His fingers got busy rubbing her clit. His eyes were on the TV screen. "I could die happy between those silken thighs," he sighed, while the Chinese cutie shook her golden ass. Then the picture went off.
At last, Charley could concentrate on the lady. He found her having sex with herself. He wondered what she was thinking about. Maybe she wondered if he really had a big one! Hell, hadn't she seen? He had an eight inch prick and was ready to shove it into her. He'd been about to come when the picture stopped. He'd held it back.
Her hot-box was behaving beautifully. Her clit was on fire with longing, so he ran his rod right into her, up to the roof.
Sweet Jesus! He felt himself starting to come. His muscles jerked, and there he was, shooting quarts of gooey, sweet stuff up the lady's snatch. And that sweet lady was looking as if she couldn't get enough of it.
But he wasn't thinking about her. His thoughts were still on that cute little Chinese thing. He gave a strangled noise that sounded like a choking rooster. "Oh, sweet little Oriental orchid!" he wailed in ecstasy, still shooting hard into the lady. The stuff was running out, moist and sticky around the base of his cock.
He could tell the lady was having an orgasm. She writhed and wiggled beneath him, and he kept coming into her as he looked down to get a view of her legs and crotch.
After it was all over, Charley felt gloomy. His massive ejaculation had left him sexually satisfied but moody. Maybe wistful would be t he better word.
"Rest a while," the lady suggested.
Charley did, and pretty soon, he started playing with his rising cock again. He and the lady got down on the floor.
The lady tried to stuff his cock into her pussy, but it wouldn't go. He came to half mast, then teetered a bit, before he slid downward again. When she jerked him with her hand, his old dong began to rise again. It grew larger and firmer.
He eyed her little furry hole with a hungry gaze. It was a cute little thing, and it was ready for more of the same thing.
Charley's meat, that had been standing up straight for a time, began to wilt again. "Shit!" Charley gasped, not at all satisfied with the way his penis was acting.
He tried to think some more about the Chinese girl on TV. He wondered if her pussy was as sweet as the lady's who was with him, and he concluded that what a man had his cock into was the sweetest, for the time being, at least.
"Oh, Christ!" Charley groaned. "I don't know what's the matter with me!"
"Here, let me help you," the lady offered, dropping to her knees in front of him, between his wide-spread legs. She licked the head of his dick, and it responded. Pretty soon, she had old Charley as hard as a huge, long bologna.
She swallowed it, and it was really a mouthful.
In moments, she had him panting for a come, but she released him
"Come on," she said. "Poke it to me while it's hot!"
Charley was solid now, with no fear of wilt or waver.
They went to the bedroom, and Charley steamed the lady up with his educated tongue. He was an expert in that field and it was no time at all until he had the lady gasping. She opened her legs and Charley pronged her deep and true, burying his spear to the handle.
He pumped away steadily, happily. Charley tried not to come before the woman did. It was a point of honor with him, but a lot of men don't think about it. Always, when he was fucking, he'd asked the lady to squeeze his hand when she was about to come. That way, he could get his own orgasm ready.
Well, the lady was squeezing his hand and sort of weeping and bucking beneath him. She yelled, and he yelled, and then they began mixing their orgasms together. Old Charley creamed real good.
And, man, it was pure sex without any inhibitions! The way sex should be. The way sex is really good!
They rested a while, and then they got in a sixty-nine position. The lady began rolling his prick and sucking it while he ardently caressed her cunt with his tongue. They had a long session of mutual love-licking. The woman excited Charley's shaft with her hand and lips, lavishing kisses upon his glans until his cock swelled up big and tremendously tall. She made repeated sucking sounds, and Charley's legs got tense, and his toes curled up as he approached an ejaculation. "Oh, oh!" he cried.
His tongue kept licking the pink and scarlet inside of her cunt, and he felt that licking it would lengthen his life at least a thousand years.
Charley couldn't understand those people who thought there was too much sex in the world. Saying there was too much sex was like saying there was too much love, or money. And, hell, everybody knew there wasn't enough of either!
Charley didn't think there was too much sex. He felt the trouble was, there wasn't enough sex in the world nowadays. Sex might solve a lot of the world's problems. How in the hell could there be wars if men and women spent their time in bed?
Getting your rocks off-shooting your wad was an important thing to Charley. It was a part of life, the major part. Maybe it was even life itself. Even more than life, perhaps, more than just a bunch of people living on the Earth for a while. People come and go, but man's sperm lasts forever.
Charley thought that people should devote their whole lives to sex, make sex a profession.
Sex was man's major drive. If he made it work, enjoyed it fully, then those other drives took care of themselves. It was as simple as that.
But too many people had to complicate it. Man's natural urge is to want everything at one time, and that's where the problem comes in. People who want everything get all fucked-up because they don't settle for anything. A man's got to have some direction.
Charley asked the lady, "You love fucking, don't you?"
"Yes," she said.
Charley knew you had to love fucking to really make it work. You can't just dive into bed and pump your hips until your sex nerves can't stand it any more, and then shoot your load. That's one way of doing it, the way so many hurry-hurry people do it. But it's a waste.
You have to make sex into something happy, or it won't work. You have to forget your guilt. You have to forget the idea that you have to love everyone you have sex with. That's sentimental and more disturbing than moral guilt. Fucking can be an expression of love, of solidarity.
But fucking is fucking, and it can be anything you want it to be. There are plain and imagine ways of fucking, and you can be concerned with your partner's enjoyment and orgasm. But, deep down, you're always more concerned with yourself. It's selfish, but it's true.
Sex has its own logic and rules. If a person persists in thinking sex is debauchery, it isn't good sex. Thinking of it that way is simply your guilt turned inside out.
There has always been sex; there will always be sex.
The ideal sex scene might go something like this:
The girl kissed him and sent her tongue into his mouth. She lured his tongue into hers, then closed on it and sucked.
His arms tightened around her, and his nostrils flared. He made a sound of passion in his throat, then fondled her breasts through her dress.
"Get this dress off!" he said.
Moments later, they were naked on the bed. She mouthed his scrotum and sucked his testicles, warming them between her lips while her fingers brushed lightly up and down the hard shaft of his cock.
There were no hang-ups, no hold-backs, in their sex. No feelings of guilt. Only the desire to find and give pleasure. He kissed her belly, then put his hands inside her knees and pulled her legs open. He nestled his head on the insides of her thighs and began a slow, long licking of her pussy lips. She felt her secretions flowg from her to his mouth. Her large clitoris swelled and peeped its head out to be promptly attacked by his tongue.
She whimpered at the sudden sensations, then took his whole cock into her mouth and throat. She began sucking his glans with her throat muscles.
In too short a time, her mouth and throat were awash with rapid spurting of his semen and he was grunting with his mouth fastened tightly against her flushed vulva, fluttering his tongue wildly over her hard clitoris.
It was unbelievably good. They were fine together, so well suited.
They didn't think sex was weird. They'd try for new thrills, and without any sense of embarrassment. Their sex was without inhibitions, just sex that was really good.
Some authorities would say that, in sucking each other, they were seeking to recreate the golden years of their early childhood.
A child finds love and security at its mother's breast. One's earliest memories are of being held, smiled at, played with, given a breast on which one fed. until there was no milk left. Even then, the child was given a big nipple or a sugar-tit, if it wanted it. If a child cries, it is taken to the mother's breast, cuddled, soothed, and given the breast. The baby sucks contentedly, filling its little mouth with the nipple.
To so many girls, a nipple is so much like a man's cock. To suck it greedily warms them, makes them safe. In this period of bottle-fed babies, too many people have missed the warmth and security of a mother's breast.
Perhaps that accounts for, in part, at least, the popularity of penis sucking.
It has become a special way to say, "I love you very much."
To be conscious is to be able to touch with reality. To be more alive is to have more feeling. And feeling is of the body. Therefore, to overcome the prohibition regarding bodily self-exploration is to overcome the unconscious inhibitions of our bodies. We must lay aside our revulsions about the human body and learn to experiment with it if we are to learn what we really are. One may need privacy to start with, and then the courage to share with others what he has discovered.
When we learn there are no dark, shameful secrets about our bodies, we can then walk proudly in the light.