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2012/01/13

Mechanics are Mechanics: Good sex is dependent on more than just having the right tool

Maybe it’s a winter thing… but I’m currently not interested in hooking-up just to get off or to get someone else off. There’s got to be a bit more to it than that. A kiss. A look in the eyes. Some kind of connection. The whole 'wham-bam, thank you ma’am’ just isn’t cutting it for me.

It may have something to do with the weather. I always have a desire to hibernate in winter; to hunker down with a blanket or two. Missing the sun and the ability to be outdoors as much as I like, (with as little clothing on as possible) I find this time of year bereft of life and oxygen. Give me fresh air and blue skies, please.


I’m less inclined to define myself as sexually addicted these days. I had sexual contact with others only 10 times during December! Compared to 53 times in October, I’d say I was making some progress. Yes, I remain a sexual opportunist – if an opportunity presents itself, I will more than likely go for it. But the whole mercy fuck thing is over. You could say I’ve become more selective.


Recently I got together with a favorite fuck buddy of mine. He has this Timothy Hutton thing going for him, a charming/disarming smile, a quick wit, and a nice, thick dick. He’s also a great kisser. On this occasion, things were heated and passionate, but he was having trouble getting hard – something which he assured me was no reflection on me. Oddly, I was hard as a rock the entire time, and if he had been a flip/flopper, I would have happily corn holed him, but, alas, he is a diehard top, so I had to be patient. He did manage to fuck me twice, but he was only half hard and I ended up coming before he did (even though I did my best to wait), unloading on his nicely furry chest.


We talked after. He was really concerned about his performance, which I assured him was no biggie. Fact is, we are both of an age where our testosterone levels are not what they once were and missile launch failure is the occasional result. For some reason, I thought it was okay to talk about that. We both love Viagra, but neither has any (although I am now thinking I can ask my physician for some) – and that is a definite cure for the soft dick blues – but, ultimately, and of course he didn’t believe me at first, that part of the act is becoming more of a secondary consideration for me these days.

Let’s face it – mechanics are mechanics. And I have been around the world enough to know what good sex is all about, which is also why I know that the mechanics of sex are only part of the equation. Even the most casual of sex needs to have some sort of emotional component in order to work. Sometimes that component is fulfilled purely by our own adrenalin rush, or something about the non-traditional environment we find ourselves playing in spurs us on to orgasm. Factors such as the possibility of getting caught or seen can also play a part. But the most satisfying encounters always contain some form of emotional connection with my sexual partner – whether I know his name or not is immaterial. It’s in the eyes, it’s in the kiss, it’s in the touch. Urgency helps. So does physical attraction. Being at our best (well rested) and feeling good about ourselves and our bodies also contributes positively.

Whether that dick goes in my ass is no longer as important to me as the way I feel during and after a given encounter. I want conversation. I want flirtatious banter and looks. I want passion to be expressed in ways that have nothing to do with the hardness of a dude’s penis. No – I ‘m not looking for a long term thing or a regular thing, I just want it to be an intimate thing.

Which is why completely anonymous sex isn’t doing it for me these days. I may be over the whole ‘bend over and take as many as possible while wearing a blindfold’ mindset – which also might explain why I no longer attend those little bathhouse parties on Fridays. Quality, not quantity, seems to be my new mantra. And that’s why I am able to go three weeks without a dick up my ass – which is what happened in December, and appears to also be the case in January.

Does that translate to me losing my mojo? Is that a reflection of how attractive I feel or am perceived by others to be? I don’t think so. Yes, gravity and the sun has taken its toll on my face this year (I really am starting to see the effects of tanning and aging), but my body is probably in the best shape ever. I even managed to snag an electric hair trimmer that I can do my back with (yes, I became convinced that my back hair had become a deterrent to sexual fulfillment). So I am looking really good these days. My waist is a slim 32”, which prompted me to go out and buy some new jeans that are trendy and very unlike the ‘Mom jeans’ I tend to wear at home (no, not real Mom Jeans, but they are old and very worn and wearing them makes me feel a tad slovenly and past my prime).

Overall, I feel good about my body and self. I feel confident. I try not to read too much into a bad sexual encounter – it is what it is. I now go into a scene without preconceived notions of what I need to bring to the table or what needs to happen. I go with the flow and enjoy what there is to enjoy. The big change seems to be that I am not willing to meet someone I had a less-than-great time with for a second round. I have no interest in repeating bad experiences, no matter how horny I am. I also no longer get frustrated when things don’t pop on the internet. If I don’t get some it is not the end of the world. There is always tomorrow. And I accept that and don’t try to will something into being just for the sake of having accomplished it. I don’t need to force a situation – eventually something will happen.

So I seem more relaxed. Of course, it is winter and who knows what state I will be in three months from now, when the weather is much nicer and I have spent untold days pining for nature. But even then, I don’t think I will base my self-esteem on whether or not someone hooks up with me or not. It’s not that important in the big picture. I would rather wait for a quality encounter where my emotional needs are met on some level and walk away satisfied.

Still, I suspect I am giving way too many front seat blow jobs to guys I don’t know all that well (or even like) to not still be considered a slut.

But it’s winter… so I have to do something to pass the time, right?

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