Hunt for the Elusive Female Orgasm

I’ve, often, wondered if I, truly, qualify as a sex addict. The truth is, it really depends on where you look for the definition. It seems no one, quite, agrees on the precise parameters of that particular disease.

Of course, Wikipedia is always closest to my right hand, so, like many, many others, it’s always my first go-to when I’m in search of useless information. Most sources give a description, somewhere, along the lines of, an obsessive sexual disorder that grows steadily over any period of time where it is faithfully nurtured.

Although, each new definition I read differed from the ones before, they all contained main key points that I know all, too, well. Yes, friends. I, too, am infected with the deadly, fuck disease of sex addiction. I know. Right? Who could have ever guessed that??

Oh, but, hold up. I guess it’s, also, important to state that so are, most of, you. At least, by that extremely loose definition Wiki gave. Shit! So, would every other man on this planet!

Porn, masturbation, EVEN staring at the titties on the cheerleaders at your nephew’s Friday Night football game could be considered strong implications of you being a pervert by their methods of intuition. Thankfully, though, you’ll find you’re in good company. EVERYONE YOU KNOW IS, PROBABLY, ALREADY A MEMBER.

You see? Deep down, we’re all, really, just a bunch of fuckin perverts. Hey. Admitting that you have a problem is taking that very, first step to getting help. God knows, and few would disagree… I could, definitely, use some of THAT, every now and then. Some help!

Seriously, though. According to the online experts, engaging in ANY sexual activity that has, even, the POSSIBILITY of negative consequences is, truly, the surest sign of a full blown sex addiction. Oh, brother. There goes all of my favorite friends. Straight to rehab, junkies!

Oh, yeah. I can picture that. An inpatient rehab that only deals with sex addicts. Now, that would, definitely, be one, wild-azz place! Can you imagine??

Sure you can. You’ll be there. I’ll be there. Pretty much, just, about, everyone you’ve ever known would be laid out, up and down the linoleum hallways of that institution if that was, seriously, the only criteria required for admittance to such a distinguished, and well landscaped, group of quitters.

Oh, I’m not denying anything. I, most assuredly, spend far too much of my time engaging in a litany of sexual activities that are often obsessive and, no doubtedly, always lead to more and more of the same. So, perhaps I AM addicted to sex. Finally. Acceptance.

By far, stalking the local BP page is the most obsessive thing I can think of that I so, thoroughly, enjoy. I eyeball our local Pensacola listings, and others nearby, several times, just about, every, single day. Perhaps, not ALWAYS BP, itself, but, certainly, a site with the same exact information, plus some.

What?? Cum on. BP is a never-ending, human buffet spinning slowly, (almost rotisserie-style), and loaded wall-to-wall with local female flesh, pretty much, 24 hours a day. So, maybe not everyone strolls that meat market as frequently as I do, but… Don’t lie. I’m, pretty sure, I saw you pushing a cart there earlier this week.

Certainly, one of the main compulsions that incessantly work to drive me back to those photos and that site is the need to check for any new pictures from any of the girls that I’m already familiar with. Of course, I’ve met a few of them, but, I suppose, it must be the addiction. Once you’ve witnessed them baring their 2,000 parts daily to the entire community, you, just, kind of feel like you, really, know them.

Of course, it’s the fresh faces that bring us all back time and time again. Seeing a new girl causes a physical reaction that is a little hard to explain because it, usually, is accompanied by temporary, memory loss. Even, at times, a small amount of drool will form, right there. Along the crease made by your upper and lower lips. (Aha. Thought that I’d miss that. Did ya??)

Oh yes, there’s absolutely no doubt. In fact, I’d be willing to bet that anyone who found themselves drawn to that site in just the right amount of time to witness the unveiling of a new girls photos, absolutely, experiences a couple of those physical reactions I just named. Perhaps, even more. Yes. I, too, have been weak.

Can’t you feel it? Your heart begins to skip a little faster, pumping blood more swiftly to each extremity. Not, always, soon enough, evidenced by the slight perspiration forming in the basin made by the palms of your hands. It completely explains why your mouth is so damn dry, suddenly. Bet you feel the need to lick those parched lips, absent-mindedly. (LOL. This is so much fun.)

Regardless of how you may, actually, feel about what you’re viewing, your body is interested and on alert. That is never mistakable. Y’all know if that was Satan, we’d all be going to hell right now. But, it’s not. It’s, just, a silly,  sex addiction. So, perhaps if they were, truly, new and very hot… You would find yourself hiding behind your desk, imp+-atiently, waiting for that moment to pass. If you’re the men I know, all too well, you.

Jesus. Talk about the worst journey you’ve ever made. Can you, even, imagine what those 12 STEPS would look like? Ugh. I’m positive no such trip could ever be confused with a good time.

Okay. Is it, just, me, or does anyone else, sometimes, find themselves searching for imperfections? Do you look, and then, look even deeper on the hunt for flaws of any kind? I don’t mean, checking out how many idiots are standing in the mirror, in full view, snapping pics of these ladies.

I guess, what I’m trying to say is… Do you find yourselves in a never-ending search for women whose bodies are not,quite, perfect? Perhaps, a lil something extra around the hips. Even a lil bit o bed head or some poorly thought out, but, quite vivid, haircolor, on an, otherwise, practically, faultless, female specimen makes a girl seem so much more approachable to me.

Now, the women themselves?? How would I know? I don’t actually go out on dates with them. Y’all do. So, of course, in my world (the one I, just, created to help you understand), there is no, such, thing as perfection. Flaws are so, commonplace, they are hardly given a second thought. A happy, healthy female filled with genuine sexual enthusiasm glows with beauty as brightly within as without.

I guess there could be a lot of reasons that I do that. Personally, I think it’s me making a split decision that, just, the slightest of imperfections seem to lend credence to any girls claim of providing legitimate services, and give me hope that she’s genuine and, actually, WANTS to have a good time. She easily fits the GFE stereotype. Yes. Much more personable with, just, a few flaws, in my opinion.

It is, likely, that every, single, person, reading right now, has already surmised that THIS method is, probably, the worst, possible, way of discerning real escorts from scams. Logically, I realize that.

However, my brain has not always served the needs of my vagina very well. Nope. I have learned to allow my body to think for itself, and that, definitely, includes going with my gut. (It, certainly, has proven to know far, far more than I, ever, could.)

Now, is that just my own insecurities talking? Am I unfair by not giving more credit towards personality and sincerity to make up for their “12 on a Scale of 10” physique? I realize how much time, effort, and pain (from incisions to “Insanity”, must be sacrificed for such a thing, and I have mad respect.

The fact that I could have a hard time relating to someone so IDEAL of form, may be the issue. I get uncomfortable. Tongue twisted. Don’t know what to say. 

Whatever! Everyone knows COMMUNICATING with others IS NOT my problem. Shutting up, oftentimes, is! Talking to people, has, just, never been an issue for me. Fat, skinny, tall, short, yellow or brown. Whether they look like me or look, absolutely, nothing like me, at all. Bet you didn’t know that about me.

I like people. Correction. I like, most, people. I, certainly, like talking to people. In fact, it is, likely, the source for the majority of knowledge I, now, store in this sexy noodle of mine. Most, likely, derived from a conversation with someone rather than from some shit I learned in school 20 years ago.

Arrrrgggghhh. Okay. Maybe, more, like, twenty-some-odd years ago. Damn, I’m gettin old.

Senility aside, I’ve learned so much in the last few years, just, from communicating with people I meet. My thirst for that knowledge, certainly, make this career more appealing to me. And, far, more enjoyable than orgasms could ever do alone. (What? I’m still a fuckin chick. Lol.).

Recently, I was caught, completely, off-guard, by an attack on those orgasms, I love so much. Mind you, my attackers, neither of them, have, ever contributed to any of them. In fact, I’ve never met either fella, at all. So, that’s, highly, improbable. Not impossible. But, DEFINITELY, improbable.

I, firmly, believe that it was boredom that sent them to persecute my cute, lil, butt-sex meme. The truth is… It was fucking hilarious. But, while I was still laughing my azz off, here cums negative shit. Whoopty-doo. Like that’s a new thing for me.

Don’t worry. I’ve had enough shit thrown at me before to know when to duck. Okay. That day, I forgot to duck. Like I said, completely, off-guard.

Can you believe that he had the nerve to say that the female orgasm was created by the fem Nazis in the sixties?? The fucking nerve. Right? Well, you know me…

I gave him one hell of a big Lol, and extended my regrets upon learning of his, obviously, absent, first-hand knowledge of a REAL female orgasm. Help. I should have, just, stayed in bed.

I was no match for anyone that, particular, day. First and foremost, I think I was ridiculously butt-hurt over them not even snickering at my damn, joke. Y’all, it was fucking hilarious. I swear it!

But, maybe, I questioned myself a bit. Ever since I’ve been able to experience orgasms, OF ANY KIND, women have shied away from joining me in a conversation about such.

The truth is, throughout my entire life, I can, only, recall a handful of women I’ve ever been able to speak freely, OR EASILY, with about orgasms in general, and 0% of them were workin escorts. Certainly, not without it, swiftly, leading into the, most, uncomfortable shift in topics.

I’m, also, pretty sure, I’ve never met any woman who claims to orgasm as much as I do. Oh, but, then… There was Susan. She gave no warning. Not before we jumped, naked, under her sheets, together. Certainly, at no time during our short tryst.

Honestly, she didn’t have to. Less than 30 minutes between her legs, and I was forced to retreat out of that room, my fingers, severely, pruned. My ears, I can, almost, swear, temporarily, deaf. And, my face, wet… With far too many shades of Sue. Now, THAT WOMAN could orgasm.

Not only am I feeling all the physical sensations produced by orgasming, quite frequently, but my body excretes real cum, friends. Imagine that?? It’s, well, something, maybe, more reminiscent of a common water sprinkler. ONLY, much, more obscene. It is, definitely, NOT everyone’s cup of tea.

In fact, initially, I found myself quite humiliated by encounters that would lead to this sexual phenomenon. That didn’t last very long. Fuck! I love cummin! Don’t you? Why wouldn’t anyone and everyone?? But, I’m the one with crazy ideas??

If you think it’s rare to hear a woman talk about orgasms, it’s even rarer to hear any woman discuss squirting. In fact, I can’t recall a woman, ever, admitting they share this abnormality with me. Except on film, of course. Nope, that info seems to always be gleaned from a man. They always seem so, much, more proud of the accomplishment. Although, it is, truly, not there’s. Can’t deny it does incite the, most, genuine of expression of joy from everyone involved, quite naturally.

As an escort on review sites, there’s not a whole lot of privacy. That squeaky, lil tidbit of mine was leaked, it seemed, almost, from the onset. How could I hide it? If a man is willing to share his time cummin by allowing me to cum, as well… Party on. Right? No one has EVER complained. (Although, not watching the clock, for me, is, merely, my largest expression of appreciation. Thought y’all had figured that one out, for sure.)

I won’t lie, though. He brought up something I’ve wondered myself, at times. Hey. I’m still a woman. I’m capable of faking it, just, as well as any other. I’ve just been blessed enough to never need to.

So I went on a search. It wasn’t very in-depth, that’s for sure. I traveled as far as Google and YouTube would take me. I looked into the infamous, mythological, showstopper, itself… The elusive, female orgasm.

Guess what? I’m not so, fuckin, special. Actually, quite a few women out there can orgasm as much AND as frequently as I can. It’s, really, not, all that, uncommon. I guess fake orgasms are just easier… (For who??)

They’re definitely not as much fun! Well, in my personal opinion. I mean, you do you, and, if you don’t want to do to you… Don’t do you. It’s, likely, that’s why others don’t want to do you, either. Now, if you want a REAL experience you can, actually, FEEL…

I am, actually, a very empathetic person. I, honestly, believe it is why I am so good at being an escort. Probably has, quite, a bit, to do with my obsession with documentaries, also. Oh, for me, they go hand in hand.

Documentaries are true accounts that, quite, often, pull at one’s heartstrings. Because they are the real-life experiences of those on this planet, not so, dissimilar from myself, I can tap into their, most, sensitive emotions I’ve witnessed, easily. By hearing their stories, I can, just about, feel their joy and their pain and their fear, almost, as if it is my own or someone’s I am, fairly, close to. I believe that I am, probably, far, more addicted to that sensation, that tsunami of feeling, than I’ve ever, truly, been to sex, itself.

My, never tiring, need to hunt for those docs, just, powerful enough to stir me, inside and out, simply affirms my belief that empathy is actually my true hidden addiction. That, same, sensitivity, that keen sentiment, winds, all, within each and every date I choose to meet. Undoubtedly, touching someone intimately with an unseen, empathetic hand is the most sensual thing I’ve, ever, experienced to date. Turns me, the fuck, on.

Look. I’m not trying to convince you. If you prefer it another way… Please. Orgasms for everyone.

But if you allow pride to cum between you and a power, so great, it can cause a mob of angry women to burst forth into jubilant song… Ahem.

Boy. That’s some powerful shit.


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