Bella Noir

Bella Noir

Thursday, February 3, 2011

A Study in Men

Recently, a friend who knows that, while I enjoy an occasional foray into the girl zone,  I prefer men for a steady diet, asked me to describe why this is so.  That's an easy one; it's where I live in my head on an almost perpetual basis.  Come lie beside me awhile while I show you what I find irresistible about a man.  Don't worry...I'll share what I enjoy about women later...

Whenever I've recounted my sexual experiences with women to others, upon arriving at the part where I describe what I found missing, people always assume it's the penis. While that is certainly an important component, it's not the whole kahuna. What I miss the most are the rest of the sensual elements one experiences with a man, such as:

His personal scent...absolutely nothing like it. Burying my face in a man's neck and breathing him in is so IT for me. All his myriad aromas from his head hair to his parts and everything in between has a powerful aphrodisiac effect on me. I think it's the differential at work here; I'm used to the scent of a woman. Men bring their own aromatic component to the mix.  I especially love it when his redolence remains with me after he's gone home...intoxicating.

The tactile sensation...the feel of a man; his skin beneath my fingers, my palms and my body as I glide atop his...my nipples awakening as they caress his contours.  The weight of his body upon mine, the firmness of his form that is so very different than my own, and especially the feel of him in my mouth; his lips, skin when I suck on various parts of him, and of course, his penis...positively yummy. Can't get enough. It's also in how he touches me. There's nothing more nirvana-esque than to be in the company of a man who knows how to really appreciate the full-spectrum of experiencing a woman. Sadly, they are rare in my experience...M is the only one thus far who has fully achieved it with me. That in itself is my own special torment...my constant hell.

The vocal sounds a man makes...all of them. From the whisper and feel of his breath in my ear, on my neck and body to the unique, guttural resonance of his orgasm, and everything in between, sends me absolutely through the roof. I love the tonal quality his voice adopts when he's riding the waves of pleasure and articulates it with me...mmm...  So men, know this; when you reach the pinnacle of climactic release, allow yourself an audible release as well.  There is nothing that brings me more pleasure - and slams me straight into Earth-shattering climax - than to simultaneously feel you pulsating inside me while hearing you proclaim it.  If I haven't orgasmed yet, you can be sure that will inspire it.

The salty taste of a man is unique from that of a woman...I seriously CRAVE having my mouth on him...tasting his skin, his mouth...all of him. Drinking him in.  My tongue delights in tracing his contours and finding the fusion point where one delicious tang merges with another.  Each man has his own, distinct flavor. They are Baskin-Robbins on steroids, I'm tellin' ya.  My mouth waters with longing just thinking of it...

And, of course, his cock.  Maybe it's just from my own experience...but a finger just doesn't cut it for me. I know there are strap-ons and dildos that can be employed while with a woman, but it's just not the same. The feel of him filling me up; of him fitting inside me snugly while my muscles grip his shaft and I feel the sharp/soft edge of its head burnishing my insides...unnnhh...my God...it's irreplaceable to me.

If I had more time, and if I didn't think it would inspire me to walk over to the nearest wall and begin to pummel it with my head, I'd elaborate further. Suffice it to say that these key elements are a big reason why I will never be solely with women.

This does not, however, preclude the occasional feminine dalliance.  Oh no...not at all...

Friday, January 7, 2011

It Could get Noisy...

She's back...my muse.  I made a place for her in the bed beside me and together we peered at the bluish cast emanating from the screen of my laptop.  She moved in close; her exotic scent, intoxicating and delicious, began to work its power within me.  Moving soft, dewy lips nearer my ear, she had only to breathe one word and she owned me once again.  "Baby...."

Parts of me always respond to her, both physically and intellectually.  She likes that about me, and I'm sure that's why she's back.  I don't know where she's been, but I suspect she didn't care for my choice of lovers with this last one.  Perhaps she was lurking, torturing me with the desire to write, yet pulling back before I could grab on and drag her close.

She returned shortly after the bulging shoebox of mementos, the last remnants of my journey alongside him, was snatched up in a quiet, tear-stained rage and evicted, along with his hold over me, to the basement storage unit.  I can still feel it there, but my muse has shifted between it and I, blocking all its power and claiming me for her own again.  How I've missed her.  My Penelope.  I've only managed to choke out my column and a few dispassionate articles every month in her absence.

Now the fun begins...

Penelope

She came to me last night - after a postponement of coital release left me bouncing off the walls - and raked her fingernails down my back.  Mmmmm...delicious.  It's been too long, my muse.  Where have you been?