The Phone Courtesan


A Woman’s Breasts
October 22, 2008, 11:36 am
Filed under: Sex is a Conversation | Tags: , , , , ,

I Love being a woman.

I read a great many blogs about sex. Most of them are a delight to read. Some of them can make my blood boil. But, all of them make me think. I enjoy hearing others thoughts and opinions about sex and our bodies.

I have been thinking a lot about breasts lately. Granted, mainly mine. I’ll come back to that. But then, my thoughts went to all womens breasts, and the way they are thought of, looked at and how they are needed.

Please, I beg you to put me out of my misery, if I ever begin to think that my breasts should not be cherished and revered by men. The following is an excerpt from a blog I came across . . . .

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“. . . So are breasts sexual?

Breasts are just a part of the “whole package” that makes a woman. Obviously they are beautiful, feminine body parts, yes, but the mere looking at them in some everyday context shouldn’t make men instantly think about sex.
We are not saying that men can’t appreciate woman’s breasts as feminine and beautiful body parts, or that man and woman can’t enjoy touching each other’s bodies during the intimate relationship. We are saying breasts are NOT supposed to be an immediate “turn-on”, a special obsession point for men.
The advertisements and media images play to the idea that men are supposed to be “all ready” the instant they get a flash of a breast. It’s not men’s fault though, if they think so, because they have been culturally conditioned to see it that way. So on this site we hope to fight back against this sad trend.
We’re saying let breasts be like legs and hips and neck and face etc. and all the other body parts – not some almost like inanimate objects that automatically ‘click men’s brains’ to the “turn on” mode. Some people mention to us Song of Solomon, which mentions breasts in a sexual context. BUT it clearly places breasts on the same level as other body parts, such as teeth, neck, and hair. . . . ”

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Please never look at my breasts as just another body part. I know, I can hear the feminists screaming now. Because I also at times want my legs, my hips, my neck, my hair and my face, to be considered sexual parts of me too. Does that mean I don’t want to be respected and have my ‘whole package’ appreciated? Of course I do. I also want that little organ between my ears to be appreciated and respected. I know, I am demanding. : )

Having said that, may I say, that I love my breasts. I love having them peeked at, while I allow just enough cleavage to attract your attention. I want it to stir in you. I want you to think of having my breasts later. I want you to think of how they will feel to your hands and how they will respond to your touch. I want you to hear my moans when you touch me the way you know I like, the way I need. I want you to see that my nipples get harder because of the arousal you stir in me. I need you to kiss them, lick them, and suck them. Please take my breasts into your mouth. I am proud of my breasts and of how you want them, and of how I want you to have them. I want you to lay your face into them. Feel how soft, warm, fleshy, comforting and inviting that my breasts can be. I want you to find and know that comfort, warmth, nourishment, sexual energy, love, care and arousal – all from my breasts. I want them to sustain you. I want them to make you hungry for me. I want you to want them. I love your touch. I love that when you touch them, you listen to them, and you know them. I need how you make me feel.

How lucky are we as women? Our breasts. They give life sustaining fluid for our babies, and life sustaining care, to our men. It is truly a beautiful circle of care.

I love being a woman.



Rain
October 20, 2008, 8:00 pm
Filed under: Sex is a Conversation | Tags: , , ,

It’s raining.

I wish I could understand the affect that rain has on me.

It arouses me.

Why when it is so wet outside, does it make me so wet, inside?



Erotic Control
October 13, 2008, 8:55 am
Filed under: Sex is a Conversation | Tags: , , , , , ,

I know that I have spoke of this before, but recently it has been deep in my thoughts.

In my chosen career I have to say again, that I find it more and more satisfying knowing that I have allowed a place for you to give to me, your most secret and treasured fantasies and desires.

This has become such a surprising revelation to me. I have found that as you open and share with me your private place, I absolutely want and need to delve in deeper and feel it with you. I am constantly surprised at how much I feed off of your secrets. I love knowing that I am the one you whisper them too. That I am the one who you can talk with. That I am the one who can take you on our journey of discovery.

Erotic control.

I become ravenous to know your needs.



Body of a Woman

“Body of woman, white hills, white thighs,
you look like a world, lying in surrender.

– Pablo Neruda

While I was recently enjoying a few days in the mountains, the voice of Pablo Neruda came to me.

I was watching the fog quietly roll in and cover our mountains, as if it were very familiar with every curve and valley the terrain offered to it.
While watching the slow motion of the fog, it made me feel the touch of a lover’s hand that knows just how and where to softly explore. The fog is allowed to creep slowly over the trees and the ground, covering it from view. Hiding it, suffocating it, with a silent visible care that only the mountains seem to understand.
It is just that way with a knowing lover’s hand that you need and that you want to have cover you, hide you, and suffocate you.
When the blanket of fog had drifted away, I found it had left it’s print on the mountain. The light dusting of snow that it left to cover the mountain will melt, seeping into the ground and give life sustaining nourishment that is so needed for the mountains to survive.
That is exactly why we need our lovers hand on our body.
His print nourishes me all day. I relive his touch in my mind and my heart, and I find that I need it again and again. It feeds me. It sustains me.