Post-Nymphomania

Twitter can sometimes stunt my literary growth & other's, inspire it. Tonight, we have found the latter.

While analyzing myself & this new found peace, I thought of my sexual history, my attitude towards sexual reproduction then vs. now & found them to be two completely different modes of thinking, of course one can claim this as a consequence of growth, which I won't deny, but instead demand to expand upon.

Why did I, the nympho cross continental sex fiend, retire so swiftly & apathetically?

& today, through my musings, I have discovered the true reason for it.

Previously I had claimed, it is admitted I did believe this theory to be the most sincere at the time, that I was uninterested because men now, sexually, render me completely disinterested. I claimed that, I simply hadn't found anyone to satisfy both my mind & body, I had found no one to ensure the harmony of both in receiving profuse amounts of pleasure. I claimed I was wanting, not a quickie, but a tantric 8 hour session.

I was wrong.

It's not that I demand a higher or deeper, or more intense level of sexual activity from the opposite sex, it is instead that I demand more, from myself.

My body & beauty is what generally enthralls these beings. Men lose their composure, their dignity, any sense of pride inside of me. They lose their very sense of Self in a mere matter of minutes & a few well placed Kegel's here & there. My body, is what drove the opposite sex wild, my body is what controlled all discernment. They knew nothing about me, they only knew what I felt like & that was more than enough for them to hand me their strings. My vagina enabled me to become a puppet master.

I, my mind that is, had little to do & found my actions monotonous & repetitious. My body shackled these men the same way every time, I received the same compliments, the same journey to obsession on their part, it was basically scripted & my mind had memorized it all.

I mean, I've had a lot of meaningless sex. Meaningless to me that is. Inconsequential for me, best I ever had for them. Imagine. They believed what I perceived as mediocrity, excellence. They were completely & always overtaken by their physical sensibilities & I find it now, a complete bore.

I'm not asking for them to change at all. I'm not asking, for an aware soul, I'm not asking for a deeper connection, because asking for any of those things would imply that the problem is outside of myself.

& today I have found this assertion to be completely false.

I am bored, because my mind demands a challenge, a greater challenge. My body, makes conquering far too easy & too quick, the chase is over in a matter of minutes, what used to enthrall you, you suddenly find completely annoying, while they're sitting on the other side of the bed planning what to cook you for breakfast.

I have grown to demand more of myself in almost every aspect of my life, so it is only logical that this sentiment should reflect in my relations with the opposite sex. Like how I now want to become more knowledgeable about the workings of the male fashion industry, instead of indulging in what I'm already brilliant at, my mind demands that I retire the method I am so dextrous in & instead employ the use of another, unused & unfamiliar.

This method being, keeping my clothes on & still having the same affect on the individual in question. Where as, watching the face of a man I was driving insane with a few gyrations of my blessed hips, with a few squeezes of these blessed muscles used to feed my ego, intoxicate me with power untold, now, driving a man insane with a simple sentence provides an even larger bounty for this hunter.

The physical is too easy, that's all there is to it.

& I've done everything I wanted to do sexually, there's really nothing left for me, outside of fucking men who are already deeply enamored with my being, I have yet to presently experience such.

Fucking a man who worships my mind promises to be a far different & far more exhilarating experience. Driving a man to complete loss of control by simply walking into a room. I want my aura, to have the affect my vagina does & then see what the two of them combined can accomplish.

So there you have it, that is why, the real reason why, I honestly do not ever feel like taking my clothes off anymore. I am sexually anorexic because I demand a harder drug than just sex.

I demand a harder drug than just mind fucking.

I demand soul fucking.

I want to make a man feel eternal just by brushing my fingertips against the back of his neck, if that simple action can warm your entire body, then what will all of me do? What will you do when you finally experience all of me?

Will you survive?

Shit, will I?

I want to harvest passion, the truest sense of it, the kind that is birthed in your very being, not in the blood cells that rush to harden that muscle you so frequently entertain.

I can't just fuck now, because I've fucked everything I wanted to fuck, I've accomplished everything I've wanted to accomplish sexually, on a physical level that is. Now, I demand deeper waters, I want it to be more difficult for me, I want a challenge & to get a man of the 21st century to love you as though he lived in a Jane Austen novel? Is an accomplishment indeed.

I'm just trying to do it bigger that's all. Naturally, I must evolve & grow stronger. Just fucking, is too easy, there's no real pleasure in it for me anymore. I'm not a man, if I had a penis, perhaps none of this would matter to me, I'd be cumming all the time. But the fact of the matter is, I don't. I have a vagina & it's more difficult to please, far more difficult in fact. Yes, they're both sexual reproductive organs, but they demand completely different rules.

My vagina is a Wii, the penis? A PlayStation 3.

Both gaming consoles, but both entirely different.

My Wii, demands far more mental exertion, as I stated before, every avenue of my life now demands the same thing.

This was inevitable.

So, in conclusion, I just wanted to clarify myself & let it be known that I'm not not fucking because I'm waiting for a turbo Super Saiyan dick. No, I'm not fucking, because I want to own your soul.

Why? Because it is difficult. I love difficult.

I flourish in the face of impossible.

& if I can somehow retain a slew of lovers who are all equally completely enamored with my non naked body, I'd have defeated any sense of the word in my life.

It's not that I'm not sexually attracted to the male body anymore, it's that I'm more sexually attracted to the workings of the male mind.

I demand a heavier meal.

I demand more sweat on my part to accomplish such, more exercise for my brain cells, more inspiration for my writing.

& point, blank, period, lovers are way more fun than fuck buddies.

Fuck buddies are a thing of my youth.
As I grow older, I dive deeper, the pressure around me grows & I relish the challenge.

In this too, I shall reign victorious.