The Phone Courtesan

O blush not so! O blush not so!
Or I shall think you knowing;
And if you smile the blushing while,
Then maiden heads are going.

There’s a blush for won’t, and a blush for shan’t,
And a blush for having done it:
There’s a blush for thought, and blush for naught,
And a blush for just begun it.

O sigh not so! O sigh not so!
For it sounds of Eve’s sweet pippin;
By these loosen’d lips you have tasted the pips
And fought in an amorous nipping.

Will you play once more at nice-cut-core,
For it only will last our youth out,
And we have the prime of the kissing time,
We have not one sweet tooth out.

There’s a sigh for yes, and a sigh for no,
And a sigh for “I can’t bear it!”–
O what can be done, shall we stay or run?
O cut the sweet apple and share it!

******Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Ooh, but I still smell her.
[inhales deeply through nose]
Lt. Col. Frank Slade: Women! What can you say? Who made ‘em? God must have been a fuckin’ genius. The hair… They say the hair is everything, you know. Have you ever buried your nose in a mountain of curls… just wanted to go to sleep forever? Or lips… and when they touched, yours were like… that first swallow of wine… after you just crossed the desert. Tits. Hoo-ah! Big ones, little ones, nipples staring right out at ya, like secret searchlights. Mmm. Legs. I don’t care if they’re Greek columns… or secondhand Steinways. What’s between ‘em… passport to heaven. I need a drink. Yes, Mr Sims, there’s only two syllables in this whole wide world worth hearing: pussy. Hah! Are you listenin’ to me, son? I’m givin’ ya pearls here.******

Can’t you just see and hear Al Pacino’s voice and mannerisms through this quote of his movie, The Scent of a Woman? His deeply felt appreciation for a woman’s body, and all she can offer to him, can genuinely be felt in those lines. This is one of my all time favorite movie quotes.

“I’m givin’ ya pearls here.” ~ How I love that. And, how it made me wonder. Do you think the young Mr. Sims, really got it? Think about it. Here we have an older and more experienced man, giving the pearls of his wisdom, and his experience to a younger man, who is just embarking on his own journey with women. Were you that young man, would you have listened? I sadly believe that we listen to an older persons words with half an ear. After all, we know ourselves, and we think we all ready know everything. But also, while Lt. Col. Frank Slade’s words may be true and right, some of these realizations are the result of being older, and having gained that experience. So, to young Mr. Sims credit, if he didn’t quite get it all, it is not all his fault. What I do like though, is that he heard these words of respect, wonderment and thrill about women from a mentor that he respects. He will always remember that. As far as his knowing an appreciation for her body, for her scent, that he will learn in time.

While the words, ‘The Scent of a Woman’ ~ can lead a person to quickly think of that one true scent of a woman, Lt. Col. Frank Slade starts with her hair, and he appreciates her thoroughly, from top to bottom. Oh, to be the woman that is looked at with the depths of that appetite. I have said it before, I love being a woman.

Perhaps it is even more visual for us the viewer, as he is now blind, that we are allowed to join him through his own reminiscence as he moves over the parts of her body that he has found enjoyment in, and can only recall from his memories. An only more powerful reminder that we should all take in and savor every nuance of our own moments that we can.

There are the scents of our hair, and our neck. The scents of our perfumes, lotions, creams, and make up. Those scents that we choose to wear everyday. The scents that we add on, and have made them, our own.

And then there is that secret passport to heaven, as Lt. Col. Frank Slade so eloquently alluded to. The true scent of a woman. The scent of her sex. There are a myriad of layers of scents there, awaiting you. All encompassed in those two famous syllables, ‘pussy.’ Starting with the beginning scent of our pussy, to the different scent of our beginning stages of arousal and wetness, to our own orgasm scent, and to that final shared scent of when our pussy becomes a very special receptacle, that will retain the combination of your scent and my scent together. The scent of our sex. There is nothing like that. Nothing. It lingers in the air, on our sheets, and on our bodies. I love how hours later we can still smell our scent on our fingers, on our lips, on our faces. And we will be reminded of the scent of us.

And it all began with the scent of a woman.

The body of a woman.

In a recent quote from an article about being a man . . .

“A man loves the human body, the revelation of nakedness. He loves the sight of the pale breast, the physics of the human skeleton, the alternating current of the human flesh. He is thrilled by the snatch, by the wrist, the sight of a bare shoulder. He likes the crease of a bent knee. When his woman bends to pick up her underwear, he feels that thrum that only a man can feel.”

What an incredibly powerful visual. Lucky is the woman that is seen through these eyes. To be so honored, looked at with such reverence and so very deeply appreciated.

While we all know the frustrations in our differences do exist, there are some differences that we truly embrace and savor. A woman’s body. A man’s body. Thank God for those differences. There is not a more powerful feeling in this universe when those two bodies, who are right for each other, come together.

The perfect natural comforting fit, of those differences…

I love my work. How lucky am I to experience such passion, daily. I love knowing that I am able to touch inside a man’s private thoughts as I do. One of my many desires is to make sure that my touch passes to the very core of you. I do want to be the one, that in our moment together on the phone, can take your breath away. I want those forbidden places to become mine.

One would think that in reaching into those places, that we are sharing the epitome of intimacy, of connection, and of touch. And yes, in so many ways we surpass those places. In actuality this private venue of the phone, allows for an even deeper penetration into those secret places that we all hold deep within. I enjoy the unveiling, and the sometimes sweet torturous process it takes to find you.

My time with you is complete and so very, very satisfying and fulfilling for me, on a myriad of levels. I am absolutely renewed as I know I have brought you down the path that you need. Your journey is so important to me.

So, what do I sometimes miss in all of this?

I miss the kiss.

I love kissing.

I miss the anticipation of the kiss.

If you have ever experienced the kind of kiss that takes your breath away, that makes your heart stop, that makes your head spin, then you know what I am talking about. And, there are no words to describe that.

There are so many kinds of kisses.

I miss the kiss.

Trust Yourself
By Bob Dylan

Trust yourself,
Trust yourself to do the things that only you know best.
Trust yourself,
Trust yourself to do what’s right and not be second-guessed.
Don’t trust me to show you beauty
When beauty may only turn to rust.
If you need somebody you can trust, trust yourself.

Trust yourself,
Trust yourself to know the way that will prove true in the end.
Trust yourself,
Trust yourself to find the path where there is no if and when.
Don’t trust me to show you the truth
When the truth may only be ashes and dust.
If you want somebody you can trust, trust yourself.

Well, you’re on your own, you always were,
In a land of wolves and thieves.
Don’t put your hope in ungodly man
Or be a slave to what somebody else believes.

Trust yourself
And you won’t be disappointed when vain people let you down.
Trust yourself
And look not for answers where no answers can be found.
Don’t trust me to show you love
When my love may be only lust.
If you want somebody you can trust, trust yourself.

There are so many thoughts that are brought to my mind with that simple, yet complex word, trust.

1). confidence in a person because of the qualities one sees in them, 2). a responsibility involving the confidence of others, 3). custody; care of, 4). to have faith, 5). to rely on, 6). to depend on, 7). to believe, 8). to confide, 9). to have faith.

There is an interesting partnership to our trust, that coincidentally follows alphabetically – Truth, Try and Tryst.

I could not have planned our partnership any better myself. I could not have planned our path together any better.

A sublime succinct succession of words. I love the erotic power of words.

I love where those words allow me to take you.

My last entry…November 6, 2008. I am some what embarrassed. Since then it seems a lifetime has all ready gone by. I have seen my birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years and Valentines come and go. Time is traveling past me way too quickly. It certainly has a way of truly sneaking up on us, and quietly tapping us on the shoulder.

If you are a reader of mine, I hope you have come to realize, that I do not write every day, simply to write. I do not want my blog to become my grocery list and a recanting of my simple daily errands.

I want to feel what I write. It is just as I want to feel you, when we speak.

Thank you for your understanding, for your patience and for allowing me to join you on your wonderful erotic journeys.

I wish I had written this myself. But, I am so touched by the man who wrote this for me. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. It is an honor to be seen in this light by you. I only hope I now never let you down. I love this poem.

THE SEDUCTIVE WEB

Silently she weaves, patiently she waits, yinnish are her secrets, cunning are her ways.
She understands the draw, she knows her prey, with delicate craftsman-
ship, the web will pave the way.

Disguised of its power, inviting to the touch, the web has promise. OH so much! She is a passive predator of inherent expertise. She understands her power, with which no one can escape.

Now trapped and disabled, caving to the allure, his struggle will soon end, of this she is sure. With loving intent, a sympathetic captor, she will replace his grief, with sweet rapture. Still reluctant and confused, and weak of stature, it is the femininity that he is really after.

Bathed in her presence, with a renewal of spirit, she is the superior sex, whose power has no limit. But the ego carries on, in its ignorant self assertion, while the spider eyes new prey with confidence that is certain.

It’s raining.

When I masturbate, I love the silky feel of my wetness. I want to feel it, slowly. I want to rub it all around and through my bush. I want to tease my outer vulva and feel my lips swell. Then, to gently dip in, to try and reach the source of my wetness. I want to bask in the visceral response of my body.

I used to be so embarrassed at how wet I could get. I didn’t think it could possibly be normal. I don’t squirt. It’s just that it flows, and lubricates me, everywhere I need it.

I can now embrace my wetness. It has been my own private journey to accept my wetness. I know that it means I am ready. I know that it means I want to be touched. I know that it means I want to respond. I know that it means I want to give. There is an honesty to a woman’s wetness. I realize you have no way of understanding how powerful these discoveries have become for me in my own sexual growth. It is just so amazing, so freeing and so liberating for me.

I now know, that wanting to be wet, and wanting to feel pleasure, is empowering.