There is something that baffles me about sexuality; especially in terms of sex devoid of a relative basing. Ergo- a sexual drive without the logic of a sentient being.
As I am not one for routine or regular sex, I find that when I am in this logically vacuous mood where I let my libido take the reins I am sated. Letting myself go to a force I allow to be larger than myself feels right. It's as if shirking my sense of logos balances the universe. I am acting solely for the benefit of myself and my end. When I achieve that end- I want to instantly do it again. I close my eyes and I can sense small waves slowly clashing with my feet splashing small amounts of water on to my shins. Soon, quite soon in fact, the tide rises and, yet again, takes me with it for an amazing voyage where my conscious is vapid and my sexual desire is paramount and monolithic. My only concern in life, during those moments, is to mitigate the primal urge to climax. My eyes flutter, my grip intensifies, my glute muscles contract raising me two inches higher, and small droplets, not unlike those of the small waves, form along the lining of my hair and forhead.
I like this feeling because I've never been the type to enjoy such passionate scales from a heightened libido. Most of the time it is a nuisance; one I would soon be glad to rid myself of.
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