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Little friends
Funny you should mention little friend and big friend, or we could say little friend and great friend. I might have mentioned we are still doing Aesop’s fables in the class I work in, and here we are sitting at Aesop’s Playground pub, and I have an idea of a fresh way to tell a story that I have been thinking about for a while
One of Aesop’s fables is about a mouse and a lion. First there is a little tickle, a little scratch as the mouse foolishly runs down the lion’s back. The lion traps him, releasing him only after a promise of future help, to the amusement of the lion, how could a little mouse help a big lion. Later hunters trap the lion, caught up in a strong rope. The great tension is only released when the mouse gnaws through the rope.
So I was thinking about that little tickle, that little scratching of an itch and it got me thinking of my little friend, you know what I mean. Truth be told, I was only introduced to my little friend late, after Uni when I found I suddenly had more time on my hands. You know how it is, at the end of a day in the office Netflix is only a certain amount of chilling when all your friends are busy. So I experimented and discovered what I thought was an orgasm wasn’t. Yes, that is the little friend I am talkingIt isn’t like porn with its screaming, oh my god, acting, that is just acting. It is way more intense than acting.
My little friend always sneaks up on me like an itch. It is remarkably separate from my mind. I can look at, oh, Thornton over there and think what a fine physical specimen he is, we could discuss how beautiful he is, imagine what he looks like without his shirt on, though that shirt leaves little to the imagination, so to speak. Other times that itch is constantly letting me know a big O is on the cards if only I care to scratch the itch. This is not arousal, this is a hankering towards arousal.
Arousal starts when I reach out for the itch. When I say: OK, what adventure are you going to take me on this time. Perhaps it could be submitting to the flirt, or submitting to the desire to flirt. Sometimes it has been the confident touch in the security of a relationship, other times, to be fair, it has been boredom. Or feeling a little glum. And the classic unable to fall asleep.
The adventure from arousal to orgasm is as varied as the input, frankly, it is a more direct route if there are no hunters involved, let's not forget Aesop's fable is the framework for this little story. When I am with someone so much more depends on foreplay, I am an adult, I have learned my body, I know the positions that work better, the actions that are more successful. But I have also learned my limitations. When I am alone, edging makes up for the lack of foreplay. Build and release, build and release. An ache in the pit of my stomach, if I didn’t know what was coming I would say it felt closest to a cramp.
Then comes the release, I sometimes make a sound but not usually. My legs go numb for a hot second and my lower body shakes. It is like my legs have turned into clouds and my core has turned into honey and I am sinking into the bath of pleasure. No, I am the bath and everyone is welcome to bathe. And I do mean everyone which is why I never orgasm with too many people.
Then it is nicer if I have a hunter with me to gently stroke me back to myself.
On that wonderful note I notice it is my time. I will see you here next week again?
Much outcry, little outcome
It is unfair to call Walter a dick as he is...
