Tag Archives: sexual desire

Highways and Bi-Ways, Part II

It might be a common stereotype that many women (and men, too) discover different facets of their sexuality while attending college, but the campus environment seems to harbor a palpable undercurrent of sensual energy. The different sexes experience this differently: Men are fascinated by the amount of hot and willing chicks, while women are enticed by the freedom of living and loving away from the constraints of their hometown and normal social environment. In my case, I was feeling a newfound sexual freedom that was further enhanced by a Female Sexuality class I signed up for. I wasn’t exactly sure what was in store for me when I arrived the first day to the non-descript classroom in the General Studies building, but the first thing I noticed was a petite Latina named Lupe* with a radiance that made me temporarily immobilized.

As we all gathered into the classroom I realized that I couldn’t take my eyes off of her, and I felt my cheeks burn with innocent embarrassment. In passing, I noticed a tiny rainbow pin affixed to her backpack, so I was left with the impression that she preferred women over men. As the semester progressed, and the small group of female students got to know each other on an intimate level, I got to know Lupe, who wasn’t just incredibly attractive, but was also smart and funny with an intoxicating laugh and a sardonic sense of humor. I guess you could say that she held my attention and interest all semester long. I would constantly daydream about her during class; imagining what it would feel like to touch her soft breasts, first delicately cupping them with my hands and then teasingly stroking her nipples with the tips of my fingers. I would vividly imagine working my way slowly down her curvy, petite body to place my eager hand between her thighs, only to watch her close her eyes and utter a breathy moan.

My Female Sexuality class had developed a strong bond, the kind that was forged by bearing our innermost secrets and our sometimes-rocky sexual pasts. We all cried as one or more of us recounted stories of being mistreated by men, or congratulated each other when we would have a sexual triumph, or when we collectively as a class found our elusive G-spots. As the term came to a close, we geared up for the big end of the year party where our group would meet the other Female Sexuality classes for an anything-goes soiree that was notorious for its racy Spin the Bottle games. It was a tradition that at the end of the semester all of the classmates had to reveal if they had a secret crush on a fellow student. I was a little nervous about the possibility of coming out to Lupe, but for some reason it felt right.

We had a pre-party at Lupe’s small apartment off-campus. As we sipped our drinks from red plastic cups and made jubilant small talk, the conversation quickly shifted to sex—as it so often does—and the topic of our secret crushes. As my classmates continued their candid discussions, I leaned over to Lupe, who was cradling a cup in her hands and nonchalantly leaning in the kitchen doorway. I softly whispered in her ear, “I have a crush on you,” and she looked at me and smiled and answered, “I know.” She put down her cup and stealthily touched my left breast that was subtly peaking out of my ’70s halter dress, oblivious to the others in the room. I looked at her intently as I felt the surge of arousal.

As we assembled the group to make our move over the party, Lupe and I walked together lagging behind the rest of the group. While the class headed briskly to the house party in the December frost, Lupe grabbed me and playfully threw me against the wall of an apartment complex and began furiously kissing me. She leaned her body onto mine and pushed her ample breasts onto me. Defenseless and shocked by Lupe’s boldness, I completely gave over to her advances, uttering slow moans as the curve of her body merged with mine. Out in the open for all to see, Lupe and I hungrily kissed each other until a group of male students caught wind of our heavy petting. In a barrage of hoots and hollers, and misogynistic banter, Lupe and I composed ourselves and made our way to the party. I was dizzy and my lips felt swollen in a good way.

At the time, I was hung up on a much older portrait photographer and poster artist who lived close to campus. I had plans to meet him after the holiday party and Lupe told me she would walk with because it was on her way home. With a bottle of Vanilla Stoli in tow, we tipsily made our way to Justin’s apartment, stealing passionate kisses along the way. “I made a promise to myself to never go for straight girls,” she slurred, “but for you, I’ll make an exception. I have a feeling you’re going to break my heart, girl.” At his door we said our farewells and I watched her walk away. I entered his apartment and took off my dress. As he began to touch me in the spacious living room his top-floor apartment my mind wandered. The entire time I thought of her.

Soon after Justin stopped talking to me. It was obvious that, to him, I was just a young party girl who would be easy to use for sex. In the midst of my rejection haze I called Lupe to see if she wanted to get a drink with me. She was underage at the time, so I snuck her into a dark corner of a nice wine bar. We laughed over too many dark rum-infused daiquiris, and I decided to drive her home so I wouldn’t indulge in any more. Double-parked outside of her apartment, it was obvious neither of us wanted to leave. She invited me in and I accepted the offer without a second thought. Once inside the apartment I kissed her and we quickly moved to the bed. I took the lead at first, as I hoisted myself on top of her, my face completely immersed in her full breasts. My kisses moved down her body; slowing mimicking the arch of her stomach, and down to her hips. I lightly bit the inside of her thighs, looking back up at her from between her legs to see that she was hypnotized by my touch. Her body rocked and undulated as I pleased her fully, her moans growing louder, her seductive murmurs transitioning into dirty talk.

“I’m going to make you forget about Justin,” she said once I came back up for air. Lupe delivered on her promise, her intuitive touch sent shivers down my body, my legs shaking in ecstasy. I woke up the next morning with a love hangover. I kissed her as I left and walked to my car. As I turned around to look at her I knew it would be the last time I’d ever see her. She never did call me again—although I was her straight girl exception, she knew that it would never work. I often think about Lupe and the brief time we spent together, and I wonder if she ever thinks of me.

Sex with Strangers: The Allure of Anonymous Coupling

Fantasies are like opinions—everyone’s got one.

Whether it’s full-fledged fetish or minimal kink, filming amateur porn or voyeurism, there’s a unique—or universal—fantasy for everyone. Recently I asked a handful of my best lady pals about their ultimate sexual fantasy, and along with the obligatory torrid affairs with famous actors and rock n’ rollers, the tie-me-up-tie-me-down scenario, and role play sessions, the most popular desire was steamy no strings sex with strangers. Yes, sex with strangers.

While anonymous sex always sounds dangerously appealing—I mean, who hasn’t dreamed about an impromptu liaison with an unknown lover in a dark alley?—I was curious about the origins of this fantasy and why it was so incredibly common among such a wide range of women.

I can’t speak for all women, but in my experience, sex with a stranger is somehow easier to perform mainly because my feelings and inherent need to attach emotionally are not at the forefront of the experience, or as my smart-as-a-whip friend Lucy says, “It’s sex with no repercussions.” I believe that sex incognito-style ignites the passion reflex in so many women simply because it allows us to divorce ourselves from the mind-fuck of sexual intercourse, and enables us to speak and think only with the intuitive motions of the body. It’s a liberating experience for some, and a way to heighten desire and release hold of the inhibitions we might experience with tried-and-true lovers. There are a lot of things you are willing to try with someone you know you’ll never meet again, and this newfound courage can be simply intoxicating.

While I know many women who have had smoking hot stranger sex, there is also a reason why this is merely a fantasy for most. In the same way that we want to not over-anazylize the monogamous sex we’re having, I think that many women will find that getting frisky with a complete unknown will also spark anxious thoughts about STDs, your partner’s sexual past, and even the potentiality of feeling dirty or emotionally low post-coitus. It’s this frequent over-analyzing that is so hard for women to abandon even though it’s extremely detrimental to our sex lives. It’s kind of a fucked if you do/fucked if you don’t scenario. Have the lustful no-commitment sex and over-think it, or have the loving sex with your partner and over-think it. There is good reason why we fantasize about lovemaking without the self-imposed thought spiral.

If only we could find some way to incorporate the mindlessness of a casual encounter into monogamy…

When I think back upon my younger and wilder days, most of my sexual experiences were lackluster and unremarkable mainly because I was sleeping with random people rather than an attentive lover who actually cared about getting me off. Up until age 24, I had only had short flings and one-night stands, never developing that bond or orgasm-centric sex that comes with monogamy. In addition, I used to walk away from these trysts feeling empty and unsatisfied because the very thing we are collectively running away from in our stranger sex fantasies (routine, safety, comfort) can be the very thing that makes coupling so rewarding.

Perhaps it was my fear of attachment, or my need to experience the newness of a random partner, but after a while I got really freaked out by the fact that I was sharing such an intimate side of myself with people who didn’t even know my last name—or even my first name for that matter. The twenty-one-year-old professional surfer I lost my virginity to impolitely asked me what my name was after we performed the dirty deed, and while there are a string of past lovers whose faces I will never forget, their names completely slip my mind. Unfortunately so does the sex.

Since a large majority of women in their late-twenties and early-thirties aren’t going to satisfy this desire for an anonymous hook-up, how we can recreate this anything-goes, inhibition-free sex with your partner? Is it even possible? In a perfect scenario your sex life is just as hot—or even hotter—than when you met. But what if you need to put your bedroom romps back in the XXX zone? I would suggest taking some time to recognize what your current fantasies involve—do you want to be tied up? Do you want to recreate a steamy scene you saw in a movie? Do you want to try posing for sexy photos then see where the evening leads?—and then share this information with your partner, no matter how weird you think it might sound. He’s guaranteed to have some equally as hot fantasies up his sleeve. Communicating desires that you can act out together will allow you to have the thrill that you might associate with a one-night stand and the safety and security that only your partner can provide. Talk about a win-win situation where everybody gets off.

Now what are your favorite fantasies?