Wednesday 22 October 2008

Make Love to Her

She is the woman you love.

She is the woman who makes your heart skip a beat the moment you catch her face.
She is the woman whose voice can always soften your mood, the woman whose smile can soften your heart.

The touch of her hand against your cheek sends electric currents through you.

You are not different people. You seem to be, you have different personalities, so very different. But fit those two pieces together, you see a composite whole, a unity, two souls cut one time from the same piece of material that souls are made from.

When she is unhappy, you are unhappy.
When she is happy, you are happy.

Now conceive of this, if you will.

Conceive of her walking up the stairs, slowly, her eyes certain, leading the way. With her lover of the night hand in hand.

It's not you.

She just met him.

She lusts for him. She burns with the desire to feel his strong limbs next to hers, to feel his vigorous thrusting in to her till she explodes with spasms of pleasure.

She leads him to the bed. She undresses with alacrity, her short breaths betraying her urgency.
Within seconds they are entwined, his hot lips caressing her ear lobes, his fingers running rings round her erect nipples, his eyes afire.
But not as afire as hers as her fingers clench deep into the cheeks of his buttocks.

She is not thinking of you. Not now.

Conceive of her lieing there as he enters her, the slow, satisfied moan of pleasure as she feels exactly what it is she was yearning for and she likes what she feels. This is an organ crafted the way women dream of. And right now she feels that every sexual fantasy she ever had has come true.

Conceive their impassioned bout of desire, conceive her nails digging into his back, conceive the mingling of their sweat, conceive her moaning, howling, grabbing the headboard with both hands and writhing her head from side to side as for her the bells of Notre Dame are ringing.

Conceive the grand finale as her back arches, her legs grip tight around his body as he explodes deep inside her.

Conceive them lieing there afterwards, her stroking his face with urgency, than forcefully grabbing his head to almost bit off his lips. Tears of pleasure roll down her cheek as she gasps for breath.

Is this not the worst nightmare of most males?

Now go further. Imagine this is something you know is happening. Indeed, you are present.
How do you feel?

Could you take it?

Because you see, that's the key. I think. That's the point we need to get over. Getting over that really is the sorting the men from the boys point.

What you give into at this point.

Can you do it? Can you really become the person it's in you to be, or are you going to be trappedfor ever an animal that needs to devise harsh and brutal codes of behaviour to stop himself killing his fellows?
Can you really love?

Oh, it would hurt. For the first few thrusts. The pain would rush through you. You wouldn't be able to help it. Another man was inside the woman you loved, and she was loving it.
But then would come the realisation. There really was no going back from that point. It really was all or nothing. She's doing it now, she'll have done it soon, and then you can never make it like it never happened, the Rubicon has been crossed.
And you'd feel your male dignity being smashed with a sledgehammer with every thrust he made.

But then- if you're man enough and your love is strong enough- it would hit you how much you loved her. That your love for her was causing this pain. And if your love for her was that strong, it was worth way more than your male dignity.
And the emphasis of his thrusting and her abandoned pleasure would take a different term.

You'd embrace those sledgehammer blows. Blows carving away your male dignity, your possessive jealousy, that arrogant belief that you and you only should be her sole source of physical pleasure.
Carving you into something far more wholesome.

And when she came, you'd feel an electric current run through you, a last spasm of jealousy, a last rush of pain, like the queasy feeling of a roller coaster, a mix of clinging to your pride and your dignity whilst letting your total surrender to your love for her wash over you. And your gratitude to him. For slaying your desire to own her, for making you still love her whilst she showed contempt for your pride and enjoyed it.

Now you're a man. Now you're a man as you shake his hand and say 'Catch you in the pub tomorrow then'.
Now you're man as you lay down beside her and kiss her forehead as she still quivers with joy at the euphoria she just received.
Now you're a man as you hold her body, still glistening with his sweat, close to you.
Now you're a man as you make love to her.

Make love to her.

The only man who does.


Anonymous said...

Look I am sorry about the whole thing OK? I liked the thrusting bit by the way...

Anonymous said...

Geez I gotta stop reading your blog at work Crushed! I think I am gonna get home and find my guy to do some thrusting tonight!

Anonymous said...

I like your point about it being the love you have that makes it hurt so bad... but I can't help but not wanting to make him hurt in the first place.

Anonymous said...

Time to stop torturing yourself Crushed. Wiser to drop it back to a courtly love level.

Are you a writer of romance novels on the side?

Anonymous said...

but what if the other guy is in love with her too? what then?

Anonymous said...

Hey this comment thing has changed. Anyway where was I? Oh yes, I have found your theme tune! I was watching "True Blood" and heard it there. The song is "Do bad things" by Jayce Everett. Listen to it and tell me what you think.

Anonymous said...

Ooops, slight mistake. "Bad Things" by Jace Everett.

Anonymous said...

But if she cared and thought it would hurt... would it not be a bit mean of her to do something... anything that might hurt?

Or the other way around also?

What about basic consideration for feelings?

Anonymous said...

that was intense.

jealosy a strange thing. i think it has a lot to do with our obsession with ownership. why is it that if we're 'with' someone it has to be exclusive, our property, ergo nobody else's. it's an interesting phenom in our culture. it's not universal, but usually when it exists the woman is more 'owned' than the man. i have no conclusions here, just observations. i'm certainly not above jealosy myself.

Anonymous said...

Mutley- Don't apologise :)
I always like the word thrusting. Do you know its actually incorrect grammar? Seriously. Thrust is actually in origin the past tense of the verb to thrang.

Cat- It never occurs to me people read the blog at work. Though it should do, I guess. I tend to go through posts at intervals throughout the day and earmark the ones I'll comment at later.

Well, I hope you're wish came true! ;)

Princess P- Well that would be the painful pleasuere for him.

For her it would kind of be an act of faith- her faith in his love for her.

I think one of the prophets, maybe Elijah I'm not sure, had a wife who liked to put it about a bit. And Elijah still loved her. It was supposed to be a symbol of unconditional love. so actually, the concept goes have some scriptural merit.

jmb- I definitely have a curious hankering for these sorts of emotional masochism. I really don't know why. They really appeal to me, these concepts of personal endurance as a path to self-enlightenment.

I think anyone who follows this blog closely has probably figured I am pretty tortured right now out of a kind of worship of someone, but seriously, the pain is the most beautiful part.

Projectivist- Well, rising above that and STILL loving her, that would be the next challenge.
Because really, why SHOULD it matter? A mother does not love her eldest less when she gives birth to another child.

Ginro- I will, I'll whip over to Youube as soon as I've published this response.

As I often say, immorality is a word usually only used by people of things other people do that they secretly want to, but don't want to lose their standing with the rest of the herd.

You never hear murder called immoral. We just call it evil. Or wicked. But when people say immoral, they usually mean 'fun, but not respectable'.

Moggs- But these feelings are conditioned, which is kind of the point. They're socially cultivated, in my view.

It would be an act of faith between them. That they'd come through stronger and feer. Free of having doubts. Able to be totally honest and trusting with eachother.

Something I don't think is the norm, as things stand.

Benji- My point entirely. Monogamy is a property concept. It's why I don't like it. I think its putting a property concept in what should be a free and beautiful feeling, untrammelled by bargains.

I'm still not above jealousy either. I have my moments. But I try fight it and I think I'm pretty much over that most nasty of emotions, at leasty in theory.