The Sex Issue...literally
It would certainly appear, at least if you’re a bloke, that there’s no such thing as a watertight seam on the male body during the hours of slumber. If we’re not peeing in wardrobes then we’re drooling – I’ve occasionally woken up with what is basically a small village pond on the pillow, complete with ducks.
Then there’s that special male nocturnal emission problem – the erotic dream related discharge.
As a teenager it’s bad enough that you spend every waking moment thinking about sex, so it seems especially perverse when you start dreaming about it too. And with such worryingly little control over the erotic scenarios that flicker, like some old movie, through your head at night.
Perverse doesn’t just mean dreaming about having a buttered goose shoved up your arse. No, more likely perverse means just who or what your untamable subconscious decides to populate your erotic dreams with. Given the wide range of fantasy partners from the waking world, from the unobtainable girl at school through the proper, real women of the underwear section of the mail order catalogue (be careful not to flip accidentally to the gardening section at a critical moment, or you could start yourself on a path that ends with your arrest for frenzied masturbation at an agricultural fair) and of course the slightly blurred images of the women found in the rain-soaked pages of porn found in hedges, it’s a shame that you find your dreams full of the sort of people that you’d normally find as erotic as gravel. Or, you know, goats.
The er, physical manifestation of erotic dreams usually happens when you’re asleep, with you waking up just too late to really enjoy it and far too late to do anything about it. As a teen, your ability to produce this stuff is prodigious to the point of baffling. If you adopt the wise policy of ignoring the whole episode and getting back to sleep despite a rapidly cooling wet-patch on you, then you run the risk of waking the next morning to find the stuff dried and covering you from knees to eyebrows. The trouble with being asleep is that you move, scratch and fidget without regard, leading to questions like ‘what the hell is dried spunk doing in my hair?’ the next morning, leading to suspicions of others in your dorm.
On the whole, it’s best to minimise damage as quickly as possible, thus avoiding the embarrassment of having to be cut free of your sheets by the fire brigade.
Sex in general is a funny beast. As a teen you think about it to the point where you convince yourself it’s never going to happen. After it happens you agonise that it may never happen again. When it becomes regular you wonder if others are getting more, better or different than you. When it’s with the same partner you worry that you’re never going to do it with anyone else ever again, when you break up you worry that you’re never going to do it with that person ever again, then you worry that you’re never going to do it ever again ever but one thing is for sure…you never think that everyone else has the same concerns as you because surely to God somebody, somewhere out there must know what they’re doing.
Then there’s that special male nocturnal emission problem – the erotic dream related discharge.
As a teenager it’s bad enough that you spend every waking moment thinking about sex, so it seems especially perverse when you start dreaming about it too. And with such worryingly little control over the erotic scenarios that flicker, like some old movie, through your head at night.
Perverse doesn’t just mean dreaming about having a buttered goose shoved up your arse. No, more likely perverse means just who or what your untamable subconscious decides to populate your erotic dreams with. Given the wide range of fantasy partners from the waking world, from the unobtainable girl at school through the proper, real women of the underwear section of the mail order catalogue (be careful not to flip accidentally to the gardening section at a critical moment, or you could start yourself on a path that ends with your arrest for frenzied masturbation at an agricultural fair) and of course the slightly blurred images of the women found in the rain-soaked pages of porn found in hedges, it’s a shame that you find your dreams full of the sort of people that you’d normally find as erotic as gravel. Or, you know, goats.
The er, physical manifestation of erotic dreams usually happens when you’re asleep, with you waking up just too late to really enjoy it and far too late to do anything about it. As a teen, your ability to produce this stuff is prodigious to the point of baffling. If you adopt the wise policy of ignoring the whole episode and getting back to sleep despite a rapidly cooling wet-patch on you, then you run the risk of waking the next morning to find the stuff dried and covering you from knees to eyebrows. The trouble with being asleep is that you move, scratch and fidget without regard, leading to questions like ‘what the hell is dried spunk doing in my hair?’ the next morning, leading to suspicions of others in your dorm.
On the whole, it’s best to minimise damage as quickly as possible, thus avoiding the embarrassment of having to be cut free of your sheets by the fire brigade.
Sex in general is a funny beast. As a teen you think about it to the point where you convince yourself it’s never going to happen. After it happens you agonise that it may never happen again. When it becomes regular you wonder if others are getting more, better or different than you. When it’s with the same partner you worry that you’re never going to do it with anyone else ever again, when you break up you worry that you’re never going to do it with that person ever again, then you worry that you’re never going to do it ever again ever but one thing is for sure…you never think that everyone else has the same concerns as you because surely to God somebody, somewhere out there must know what they’re doing.
1 Comments:
So I guess you did read what I wrote....after 4 years of sex with the same man and then breaking up (for real this time) and not having had sex in over a month---which hey, wasn't that great anymore anyway save the occasional moment when BOTH of us were totally wasted.....ummm, I'm starting to wonder how long it takes to re-virginize oneself and whether or not I'm going to reach that point. Then i think, "uh oh, I surely hope the next guy I have a meaningful relationship with and decide to have sex with (the days of meaningless sex are over for me...or at least they should be)....Anyway, I surely hope that he is good....then there is that risk where you really get to like someone and find out you have to re-invent the wheel in order to make things work. I just don't have that kind of energy anymore.
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