Home > memories, reflection, sex > titillation 101

titillation 101

October 24, 2007 Leave a comment Go to comments

These past few days have been fairly hectic and crazy, with work piling up for classes and my getting sick in the midst of it all, as well as getting my period on the same day.

Yet, despite it all, I have had sex on my mind. A lot of sex. Not just imaginary scenes from my fantasies, or taken from experience, either. I’ve been thinking lately about the kinds of things that titillate me the most. I suppose there is something to be said for wanting most what one cannot have, and I am presently prevented from sex both because my boyfriend is far, far away, and because it is my period and I don’t want to make a mess.

Which brings me back to my frequent fantasies and thoughts about sex. I used to read quite a lot of books as a kid, especially science fiction and fantasy novels. And I soon found myself moving rapidly up the ranks of these pulpy books, from children’s series to Young Adult, and from there to the as yet mysterious world of Adult.

From the mildly described nude women of Piers Anthony’s world, to the more explicitly described sex scenes of Irene Radford’s Merlin series, all served more than adequate fodder for my hormonal, barely teenage self. I was swept up by the strange but wonderful sensations I felt while reading these kinds of passages, and soon began masturbating to them. Yet some of these books barely mention the actual act; rather, they hint here and there, noting the flush of heat on one character’s cheek, another’s awe at their partner’s body, the trembling of fear and excitement…

I still remember, sometimes vividly, these scenes from the books I read. The short but sweet scene of two of a group of adventurers who discover each other along the way, in a wicked and chilling novel I otherwise avoid thinking about, with it’s main antagonist a cruel Baron who skins people alive for sport. And, most recently, the frequent and dispassionate couplings of a futuristic society who uses the act of sex to transmit data and grow as a collective knowledge base.

It’s amazing how young I began reading such novels with explicit scenes. It’s more amazing that no one ever stopped me. Though given that I read from a genre no one else in my family was interested in, they couldn’t have had an idea of the kind of content I was reading. It soon became my secret, and I often revisited favorite scenes in the safety of my bed, late at night, one hand keeping the book open while the other explored those compelling sensations in my awakening body.

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Categories: memories, reflection, sex
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