Hearts, flowers, Cupid’s bow and arrows, the box of chocolates, Valentine’s cards, candlelit dinner, bottle of champagne, tokens of love, holding hands and gazing into one another’s eyes, moonlit walks, etc. Romance. Love.
I want that. I want all that. I’ve got a healthy romantic streak running through me. Romantic, poetic, chivalrous, and dedicated. It’s there. It’s just gotten kind of . . . buried.
Bad luck with women. No luck with sex. My health problems haven’t helped matters any. Nor has the social or financial fallout of twenty (plus) years of being chronically ill and practically a shut-in.
I do want love. Requited love. I want a woman to share my life with. I want a woman in my life who makes things like Valentine’s Day actually mean something, instead of being just another day. Or a day to make fun of, using comedy to mask my pain.
But that’s not what you came here to read about. ‘Time Delay’ isn’t a mushy, syrupy, pining-for-love blog. It’s a kinky sex blog. So . . . yes, I want love. But I also want to fuck. Oral, anal, vaginal . . . fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Groping firm tits and pumping my cock in and out of every tight hole she’s— What? Too far, too soon, after ‘hearts and flowers’? Yeah, okay. Probably true.
Anyway, I was just trying to illustrate that today’s blog post isn’t going to be about my love fantasies. Today’s blog post is going to be about my L.O.V.E. fantasies.
Yes, I want love, but the older I get, the more that my obsessive-compulsive brain decides to focus on sex. “Gotta get you some,” says the OCD-addled brain. “Gotta get laid. Gotta lose that ridiculous virginity you insist on hauling around with you everywhere you go.”
It doesn’t seem to matter what I want emotionally. What I want for the long run. There’s just this compulsion to lose my virginity. It’s gotten to where having sex isn’t really even the goal any more. Just the need to have had it that first time. To be able to say, “Yes, I’m sexually active.” I need somebody to pull my ‘intercourse tab’ and start me up.
So when I was trying to figure out whether or not to do something with a ‘love’ theme for the post before Valentine’s Day, it occurred to me that since L.O.V.E. is spelled (more or less) the same way, I could probably get away with that instead.
(Yes, it’s what you’ve all been expecting and fearing. Today’s wordplay come to you in acronym form.)
L.O.V.E.: Loss-Of-Virginity Encounter. The L.O.V.E. fantasy is simply me musing about getting my metaphorical cherry popped.
Questions About Type
“What’s my type?”. Who (not as in a specific person, but as in a general ‘type’ of woman) do I want? That’s a difficult question to answer.
I could give you a whole raft of ideal physical specifications. Hair color (red tops the list, but really anything other than blonde is ideal), breast size (small to medium, unless she’s a BBW, in which case we go proportionately larger), and so on. But in all honesty, I’m more attracted to personality, intelligence, commonality of interest, and so on.
But that’s what I want in a woman that I want a relationship with. A girlfriend, a play partner, a friend-with-benefits, etc. Which is a different criteria than the minimum requirements for what I want in a woman I’m interested in for L.O.V.E.
So, when it comes to the one-time act of losing my virginity . . . what’s my type?
Consenting adult human female. (Okay, so, it’s probably a little more specific than that. But at this point, not a whole Hell of a lot.) Right now, if a woman were to come up to me and express an interest in taking my virginity, there are very few things that would cause me to turn her down.
Disease would be one. Even with protection, my completely fucked-up immune system would keep me from accepting the offer of, “I’d like to have sex with you – and, oh, by the way, I’ve got [fill in the name of an STD here]”
And I’d like to think that I’d still decline the invitation if she were a white supremacist, or a devil worshipper, or something equally on my social no-no list.
There are other factors that might prevent me from having sex with a woman, but that wouldn’t stop me from giving it my best effort. Size, for example. I like BBWs. But I’ve learned the hard way that Big Fat Man + Tiny Little Penis + BBW = Abstinence. I’d love to have sex with a BBW, but the extra layer(s) of flesh tend to keep our interlocking parts just far enough away from each other so that they don’t actually interlock.
The Least Unlikely Opportunities
There aren’t really a lot of times or places in my current life that would be realistically conducive to this sort of thing. There aren’t many women in my life, and the majority of the ones that are happen to be related to me by either blood or marriage.
So I try and find the places where it’s most likely that I might end up getting laid. And when it occurs to me that I’m not really ‘likely’ to have sex regardless of what I do, then I start looking for the occasions and locations that are the least unlikely.
When I first started investigating BDSM, and trying to break into the local community, my reasons were doing so were always capped off with, “. . . plus, maybe I’ll finally lose my virginity.”
I spent most of last year’s KinkFest obsessed with the concept of finding someone interested in having sex with me before discovering that most of the people there were the type that kept their BDSM and their sex separate. Chocolate bar still in wrapper, peanut butter jar shut tight . . . no tasty Reese’s for anyone.
(I’ll be trying to focus on the Bondage and Discipline, Dominance and Submission, and Sadism and Masochism at this year’s KinkFest, and try to ignore the absent Masturbation and Intercourse.)
The Darklady Parties
One of the places that seem as likely as any are the ‘sex-positive’ parties thrown by Darklady. So, I spend a fair amount of time fantasizing about losing my virginity at the next Darklady party. (‘The next’ being a rolling description. I’ve fantasized about having sex at both the Halloween and New Year’s Parties. It didn’t happen either time, so now I’m fantasizing about getting some action at the next DL event I attend.)
I was actually planning on attending festivities thrown by the Dark One tonight, but that fell through when my pal Zorch called to reverse his offer to play chauffer and get me to Portland and back. (His job interfered, and he suddenly no longer had the night off.)
Which really sucks, because I was seriously looking forward to this little event. “Darklady’s Don’t Be Afraid of Valentine’s Day Quickie Dating”. This is her first experiment with bringing the popular ‘speed dating’ concept to the local sex-positive community. And the inherent structure in her quickie dating set-up includes a forced socialization that would keep me from wallflowering my way through the first half of the event until I built up enough courage to start talking to people.
(I talk a good game sitting behind the keyboard. And I used to talk a good game back in the late 80s/early 90s. But I’m not used to actual social interaction anymore. All my face-to-face conversational skills have atrophied. Plus I’m ugly and stupid and nobody likes me and – whoa! Take a breath there, Zeitgeist. Your self-esteem is running amok again. Reel it back in.)
Anyway, her next party is in late May, and is her umpteenth (8th?) annual Masturbate-a-Thon party. I don’t know if intercourse will be encouraged at that one or not, being a celebration of masturbation and all. But I plan to be there, regardless. (Assuming I can find a ride.)
The Johnny Dirtnap Method
I’ve started contemplating seeking professional help. By which I of course mean hiring a prostitute.
And I’ve noticed that recently the concept has somehow entered my brain’s fantasy rotation. When I stop to think about it, the fact that I’m actually considering trying to save up money so that I can lose my virginity to a prostitute fills me with self-loathing. [Which has nothing to do with any bias against either prostitutes or those who engage their services – I’m sure that it’s just unresolved issues I’ve got with the whole
Johnny Dirtnap situation, and his plans to get me laid via sex-for-cash.]
I do have some very specific L.O.V.E. fantasies. Things I’d like to do, ways I’d like to do them. Scenarios. Role-play set-ups. All kinds of things.
I’ve got age-play fantasies that are conducive to L.O.V.E. (Everything from the classic I’ll-show-you-mine-if-you-show-me-yours to the traditional teenage first sex encounter play.)
I wouldn’t mind losing my virginity to a humiliation girl. (Not THE Humiliation Girl, just a humiliation girl. Although, if my original HG could be found . . . ) Someone aroused by being ‘forced’ into sex with a 450 lb behemoth like myself. Someone who would get off on having me do the nastiest things to her.
The classic male fantasy of the threesome. I’ve got several variants of this one that would be perfect for a loss of virginity encounter. But primary among them being me, a nice, thin, fuckable girl, and a sexy, lusty BBW to play with besides.
Of course, being at least a little bi-curious, I’ve also got the other threesome fantasy. Finally have sex with a woman, and also satisfy some of my curiosities with a little experimentation.
I even fantasize about one of the women from my past coming back into my life for a one-night stand. Sue. The long lost Rabbit. Penny. Dot (God help me). CJ.
And then there’s that romantic streak. I could lose my virginity this way, I wouldn’t mind losing it that way, blah, blah, blah. But what I want – what I really WANT – is a lover. In all senses of the word.
As much as I just want to crawl on top of someone and fuck them, deep down, I really do want to lose my virginity by making love. Sink my cock into someone for whom my cock is in synch with my heart.
Oh, crap – bad poetry is starting to happen. Okay, time to sign off.
Enjoy St. V’s day.