Twenty Sex
One month from today I will celebrate my twenty-sixth birthday. I love my birthday. It is a time of reflection and celebrating another year of life. God is good. This year, much like most years, as my big day approaches I find myself once again debating what I will do to mark the occasion. To mark my 23rd I had drinks with a small group of friends at Poste. For my 24th I gathered my nearest and dearest District buddies for dinner in the private dining room of B. Smith’s and for the celebration of 25 an evening of delight was orchestrated at Topaz complete with Clay-tini’s flowing all night long. But what do I do if anything for 26?
A prevailing thought for the past few days has been to do something rather quiet and intimate, so intimate I would call the concept twenty sex. The name is so fitting.
Over the past five years there have been a number, one in particular, of sexual acts of which I have refrained from engaging. I didn’t stop engaging in the act because I didn’t like it or because I thought it was causing me some undue harm. I chose to cease indulging in this taboo pleasure because I wanted to hold on. I decided that I wouldn’t find myself in that position again until I was in a relationship with someone I thought really cared about me. Five years later, I’ve yet to be in a relationship, let alone met someone who truly cares about me or loves me. On the surface it would seem that I was holding on to this because I value it so much and I feel it should only be given to some ‘chosen one.’ But in the end Pooquie and Aziza have asserted that I have only been denying myself.
So to celebrate twenty sex I am thinking about giving it up, but not for someone else. I'd be giving it up for me. Actually, I’d be taking it. Control. My body and pleasure belong to me so why not treat it and pleasure it when and how I so please, free from the fear of those seeking bragging rights of it/me, free from the stigma of those who bow and or bend to that position. Madonna once sang, ‘poor is the man whose pleasure depends on another.’
I want to be rich.
Toying with the notion of the fun of a boy’s toy I would also be left to find one very important piece. I don’t know who I would celebrate twenty sex with. No one sticks out right now and the thought of having to search for someone makes it more of a task than I would want it to be. I’m sure I will continue to toy with the idea though. Perhaps I’ll ask someone who has been running through the back of my mind for some time. One of those gentlemen that I’ve secretly wanted to seduce just for the pure pleasure and nothing else. It is what it is. Surely someone must be game.
Or maybe I’ll just have cocktails with friends rather than cock and tail. Who knows? A lot can happen in a month.
A prevailing thought for the past few days has been to do something rather quiet and intimate, so intimate I would call the concept twenty sex. The name is so fitting.
Over the past five years there have been a number, one in particular, of sexual acts of which I have refrained from engaging. I didn’t stop engaging in the act because I didn’t like it or because I thought it was causing me some undue harm. I chose to cease indulging in this taboo pleasure because I wanted to hold on. I decided that I wouldn’t find myself in that position again until I was in a relationship with someone I thought really cared about me. Five years later, I’ve yet to be in a relationship, let alone met someone who truly cares about me or loves me. On the surface it would seem that I was holding on to this because I value it so much and I feel it should only be given to some ‘chosen one.’ But in the end Pooquie and Aziza have asserted that I have only been denying myself.
So to celebrate twenty sex I am thinking about giving it up, but not for someone else. I'd be giving it up for me. Actually, I’d be taking it. Control. My body and pleasure belong to me so why not treat it and pleasure it when and how I so please, free from the fear of those seeking bragging rights of it/me, free from the stigma of those who bow and or bend to that position. Madonna once sang, ‘poor is the man whose pleasure depends on another.’
I want to be rich.
Toying with the notion of the fun of a boy’s toy I would also be left to find one very important piece. I don’t know who I would celebrate twenty sex with. No one sticks out right now and the thought of having to search for someone makes it more of a task than I would want it to be. I’m sure I will continue to toy with the idea though. Perhaps I’ll ask someone who has been running through the back of my mind for some time. One of those gentlemen that I’ve secretly wanted to seduce just for the pure pleasure and nothing else. It is what it is. Surely someone must be game.
Or maybe I’ll just have cocktails with friends rather than cock and tail. Who knows? A lot can happen in a month.
posted by ClayStarr at 10:28 AM
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