How Many? by Anonymous

                                        by Anonymous
                                       
"How many people have you slept with?" A simple question from a recreational deck of cards.

I bit my lip while my mind drifted back to my 'first' time.  Something I fondly referred to as T-E-O-T-W.  The end of the world.  Well, at the time it was a huge deal.  I was just 15.  He was 18.  Quite honestly, he was a loser.  A loser with a very big dick. We fucked like rabbits.  I remember sucking his cock for so long, and so hard, that I raised a huge blood blister on the roof of my mouth.  It was tender for a week.  I didn't love him, but I thought I did.  He helped me realize that I was a dominant female.  I was on top, literally, nearly every time we did it.  Missionary style made me feel smothered.  His sweaty body way too close.  I swear that one time he even pissed in my mouth during head.  I spit that shit all over him, called him a 'nasty fucker', slapped his face and threatened to never fuck him again.  From that point on, he would beg for it.  I liked him begging.  I would take him when I wanted, when I felt like it.  Luckily for that bastard I felt like it often.

I still hadn't answered the question.

My mind was racing, trying to recollect, in chronological order, the boys I had entertained myself with from that starting point.  Ryan, Louis, Scott, Adam, Kenny, Barry... I kept counting to myself... Mark, Robert, um... wait, there was someone prior to Mark... oh, Danny.  God, that boy was a mess.

"I'm running out of fingers and toes," I grimaced.

There is this special 'equation' that people joke about when you're single, perhaps you've heard of it.  The Law of Three.  They say, for every person a guy says he has slept with, you divide that amount by three for the true number.  So if he says three girls, then you know it's really one, if any at all. Boys believe in inflation.

For women, you multiply.  So, if she says, "Um, three," you know in reality it's nine.  No one wants to risk being called a tramp, slut, or whore, do they?

"27," I answered.  "Well, at least those are the ones that made a lasting impression."  I smiled.

Everyone around the table gawked, choked on their drink, or laughed nervously.  My number wasn't going to be the highest, was it?  The other players responded.  It was.

Well, what can I say?  I like sex.  It is what it is.  Am I ashamed?  No.  Am I proud.  Not really.  Do I plan to add to those numbers?  Most definitely.

I heard a story on talk radio yesterday, while I was driving to work, and the DJ was appalled that a 68-year-old woman was arrested for lewd public behavior after fucking, on an amphitheater stage, with her boyfriend (who was 21 years her junior) during a Summer music festival.  I wasn't appalled, I was turned on, thinking, "Hell-to-the-yeah!"  Granted, I'm much more of a voyeur than an exhibitionist, so my enthusiasm was sparked by that visual.

As a sensual, sexual, and sadistic Domme, yes, I like physical intimacy.  But I have always practiced SSC, long before I knew what that acronym meant.  Considering my sexual awakening coincided with the frightening announcement of AIDS, you would have thought that would have been a deterrent to my adventures and exploration.  But no.  I have been fortunate, and always err on the side of caution and responsible play.

So what is my real confession?  Sex is much more to me than just 'bumping uglies'.  More than just an act for procreation.  In fact, for me, it was never about that.  I am childless by choice and design.  No, sex, for me, is about connection.  About impulse.  About primal urges.  About raising energy and directing it for various purposes.  It is about pleasure.   It is about indulgence.  It is about ME.  What I want, when I want it, and who I want it with.  Though I have been in monogamous relationships, some for lengthy periods of time, I have a hard time with monogamy.  It feels very forced and unnatural.

"Oh wait... I just remembered a few more names, can I change my answer?" ;)