Two Kings

I have found the quality of intimate touch from a man is different from that of a woman. Contrary to popular belief where we men are frequently accused of being the selfish ones, I have experienced for myself, and now hear sex researchers such as Edith Perel and Helen Fisher say what I have cum to know to be true. that it is, women readily exert their right to receive what they want while insisting on a man performing to her standard. An apparently submissive dynamic, but one which belies a complicated subversive inversion of power imbalance that isn’t always immediately apparent. As men, we do sort of like that strict school-ma’am bossy woman, but the pattern develops of me always on command performance, “trying” to please her, me slowing to let her cumm, me spending time on foreplay, me waiting (and waiting) till she “feels” like sex.. (this week, month.. quarter…?). As if waiting for Christmas actually makes it all the sweeter. It is a stewed pleasure, a long distilled due, a 12-year whisky, a vintage wine of slow-burner distillate sex with women. The wait may be a day or and hour or a month or quarter – I never know…. It consists of me being the constant supplicant, me trying not to make her feel guilty for what sometimes becomes a begrudging, OK, since you’re ALWAYS asking for it… OK, but you need to please me first and get me in the mood. Foreplay is entirely my responsibility since I was the one who asked for this… As I get older, the immediate spring-like reaction from soft to rock hard needs more than a F1 starters’ gun……. Despite her somewhat disdainful use of “womens’ tricks for dicks” to start the race, it could go either way – but the wait is ALWAYS justified in my mind as I go to another place of delight. Then after she has cumm three times riding me, moaning and getting into it for herself, appearing for all intents to be enjoying it…. A LOT…? she says are you close? Coz my legs are getting tired…. Then a few vague and uncareful “touches” as a post coital cuddle. She’s satisfied and we are both in a good mood.

Helen Fisher says research shows clearly that women lose erotic interest in their man quite soon after marriage, while men take many years to lose erotic interest in her body, if at all. It explains that, although my wife is clearly loving and loyal and sweet and familiar, and kind, she is ultimately well past any obvious erotic frisson for her husband. She says she has no frisson for any man, except perhaps Matthew McCaunehorny as she calls him (but then, dont we all…) On the other hand, Edith Perel, says men, contrary to the fallacy of selfishness, show enormous risk and vulnerability to rejection, and climb through hoops to increase the chances of their women to “want” them sexually. Whereas, my man-on-man experiences have always been between equals who joyfully help each other, and more than that, genuinely find the other man’s body, muscles, hair, smell, roughness, a huge turn on. The touching is definite and directed and deliberate and informed of what feels good. We all know even a bad Blowie from a man is often more skilful than one from a woman – who holds your dick off as something to be handled between fore-finger and thumb. Something slightly disdainful. While sex with a woman is about exploring her curves and smoothness and fragrance and taste, we men delight in every sense of her body. Consuming all of her we can in our caress, hoovering up every ounce of her beauty. But, in my experience the women I have slept with seem also to expect to receive that and don’t appear obligated to return the honour. Women are Queens who deserve the right of obeisance. However, men do return that favour. Men return that intense interest in the partner’s body. They reciprocate in an equality of honour that is not afraid to surrender to all the senses that his body and yours can excite together. Two kings of equal rank jousting their sceptres on the noble field of play. Celebrating their shared manhood, broad shoulder to broad shoulder – the dignity of mutual respect. A hand shake of brothers without deference. For me it renders both MF and MM sex as quite different political realities, and therefore distinct sensual experiences. The women with whom we are bewitched, are either by nature, upbringing, or manipulation, reserved in whatever delight they show in your body, and mete it our with measured intention. It Helen Fisher is correct – they grow to have no delight in our bodies per se. But Men, We freely give that delight to each other, willingly. I find – being “treated mean” does keep me keen. I find that faint disdain erotic and the difficulty in getting in her pants to that warm, moist valley a long-distant promised land, a carrot dangled for my stick which seems always getting nearer, but ever just that little bit further. Whereas, the availability and readily honoured reciprocity of man on man sex is immediate, supplied on demand, and in fact the demand actually seems to interplay with the supply. It is a conflation of both of our most urgent instincts. Its a different excitement. It is a hand-shaken agreement that seems very wilfully fulfilled. In the final analysis I cant say which I prefer – but they are so different in my mind as to net me a question of preference, but of yes. And yes. Both. And-and. But as I get older and I see my years inevitably fade, I feel in the time remaining it becomes a question of whose round it is for last orders before closing time. BoB