Sunday, April 19, 2015

Recurring Objectification: Guilty...

I often get on myself for fear that I have become a real creeper in my mid-life.  I've posted blogs about admiring women in the grocery story, about crushing on the girls in the drive-thru at my local BBQ place, and of course, my continued commentary about the women (and guys) of Tumblr.

I like to ask myself as a husband and a father, how would I feel about men looking admiringly at my wife or my daughter.  As if this line of thinking will guilt me into changing my ways.  The truth is, as long as some guy doesn't do something atrocious like cat-calling or making them uncomfortable, I really feel confident in  both my wife and my daughter's ability to handle themselves around strange men who finds them attractive.

But even then, I've heard this term Objectification and being the strong supporter of women that I am (not kidding), I have to ask myself, am I being an asshole?  The initial definition (linked above) just doesn't seem that negative to me.  In a way, if you don't know a person but you admire their beauty, are you not by default objectifying them?  The same people define women who are overly concerned about their appearance as objectifying themselves.  I admit, some women (and men) can become obsessive about it, but what is wrong with a person wanting to be attractive?

As all the smart thinkers start adding in definitions, it is clear to me that, thankfully, I really don't meet the criteria, or at least their views on ways men can be misogynistic.  Even though, I do think that I should really try to be as discreet as possible when I admire the women who shop where I do.  I'd feel bad if I ever made a woman feel uncomfortable or someones daughter think I was a creeper.  Oh sure, I am a creepy guy looking, but I'm really harmless.

All of this sets up the other thing that seems to be a constant thing running through my mind.  If it were possible to do so in a way that did not cause laws to be broken, etc., I think I would want to pay a woman to let me objectify her.  That is, for her to get me so worked up that I spontaneously cum without the need for whipping out my dick and jacking off.

I've had this weird (maybe not so weird) thing swirling around my mind for quite some time now.  It is of course just a fantasy with no real chance that anything would ever come of it.  I've never been big on writing or blogging fictional stories, though admittedly, the Veronica thing really got me going.  Instead of putting it out in story form, I thought maybe I could share some of the specific points, and I'm hoping that some of you kind readers might offer me some feedback.

I've never been the type of guy to pay for a prostitute.  Yes, there was that one time I paid a beautiful African woman working at a club in Frankfurt, Germany the equivalent of $25 to basically watch me jack-off into a condom.  It was supposed to be a blow job, but when I couldn't cum in twenty seconds, and she couldn't convince me to pay more for full sex, I asked if she would just let me admire her body while I gave myself a hand job.  In fact, I was much happier with that arrangement.

I should also add that, I'm a firm believer that sex work ought to be legal, that women (or men) should be able to provide the services they choose at the cost agreeable to them and their customers.  I do think it should be safe, legal, and run like a business.  Anyway, all this to say, I don't frequent sex workers, strip bars and such, but I totally support those businesses and those that frequent them as long as they are not forcing anyone to work there.

If you read back through the blog, you will also note that I have often been very squeamish about naked women I'm attracted to being significantly younger than me.  First off, as it is I'm attracted to mature women (and men), as in, gray hair and all that.  I just get off on it.  But now that my own kids are adults, I don't see myself as being so freaked out when I see the birth date of the Playboy centerfold revealing that she is younger than my own daughter.  I guess I've gotten over that specific benchmark.  Either that or I have just accepted that I am attracted to pretty people, regardless of their age relevant to mine.   Yes, I'll admit, I couldn't wait for Miley to turn legal so I wouldn't feel guilty about wanting to see her naked.  

So on to this little thing happening in my mind. That first time I went on Craig's List and found a lady selling her panties and willing to meet in person to deliver them as opposed to wanting to send them packaged in the mail was a really enjoyable experience.  The back and forth of trying to figure out where and when to meet, the questions, the pictures, it all had that vibe that swingers talk about getting when a new relationship develops.  New Relation Energy, it's called.  Why couldn't I get that but combine it with something a little more.  No, not an hour in a hotel banging some lady for cash but something a lot more tame that really doesn't cross that line of prostitution.

Let me just spit it out.

I show up at the woman's house.  She is married, her husband is at work and maybe he knows she is doing this, maybe he doesn't, but either way, she is not hiding the fact that she is married and I'm completely turned on by that.

She invites me in and she asks me to take a seat on the couch.  I sit down and settle back while she pulls the coffee table away from the couch to make room.  She politely asks me if I have cash and I pull a neatly folded wad of twenty's out and set it on the arm of the couch.  She walks over to a shelf and turns the volume of her stereo up and begins to dance, slowly unbuttoning her blouse.  I can't help but focus on her wedding ring.  She seems confident, but in a way, I can tell that she is somewhat nervous.  We've planned it in advance so she knows what I want and I already know her limits.

Her shirt is tossed onto a chair and she moves to the music in jeans and a bra.  I've always been turned on by this look.  She comes close enough for me to touch her, but my hands remain on my thighs.  She can make things as physical as she wants, but I am not to touch her at all unless she asks me to.

This initial move is her trying to see what excites me.  Truth is, the proximity of her cleavage and the fact that she is young and pretty and married and doing this is enough to get me started.  She leans in and lets her cheek brush the side of mine.  This is more than I expect.  As I take in the hint of perfume, she takes the money from the chair and slips it into the pocket of her jeans.  Honestly, I think I would be happy if it ended there. I am so easy.

She places her hands on my shoulders and allows me to quickly get up close and personal with her breasts.  Not close enough to feel with my face, but close enough to want to see more of them.  She pushes off me and turns around so now her ass is facing me.  Slowly, the jeans are pulled down revealing her panties, then the backs of her legs, calves and finally, she kicks them off away from us.

Her panties are magnificent.  They are white with some sort of print design in dark navy.  They have a lace black band around the top and around the leg holes.  These are the type that ride up revealing her ass cheeks.  If it stops here, I feel like I have received everything she agreed to.

I am sitting on the couch of another man's house.  His wife is standing in front of me in bra and panties and I have an intense erection.  She kneels in front of me in the way a woman might if she were about to give you a blow job, but we know that is not on the menu.  With her left hand, she reaches for the bulge in my pants and rubs me.  I am as turned on by her wedding ring as I am the fact that she has exceeded all expectations by being physical.

"Are you okay?" she asks.

My response is typical of men who are in over their heads.  "Yes" comes out almost as a hiss.

She is back up on her feet and she turns again to let me appreciate her ass and those panties.  I can't even hear the music but somehow she is dancing rhythmically to the soft beat.  As I take in the view, she is removing her bra and tossing it towards the jeans on the floor.

With one arm covering her breasts, she turns around again and I am eager to see what she is hiding.  She giggles at my anticipation and then reveals small, firm breasts with erect nipples.  "Do you like these?" she asks with a smile.

"Oh, they work for me." I respond, hoping she will allow me to have some contact.

I appreciate the fact that she is having fun with this.  She has either practiced this scenario with her husband, or with someone else.  This is not the performance of an awkward beginner trying to be sexy.

With her knees on the couch landing either side of my thighs, she leans in allowing a nipple to brush my face.  I naturally move to take the nipple into my mouth but she quickly pulls back with a firm "No!"

She looks into my eyes and says, "You don't touch me, I'll touch you."

I smile and let her control the scene.  Because I just know that whatever she comes up with will be better than what I had expected.

She takes great pleasure in using her erect nipples, one at a time, to tease my cheeks, my lips, my eyelashes, my nose.  When I part my lips only slightly, she tests me by placing a nipple in my mouth.  I don't make any move at all.  I feel like one of those kids in a room with cookies on the table; being observed to see if I will take the cookie even though I've been instructed not to.  I pass the test and she says, "Very good."

She lifts herself off the couch, off my lap where my erection has been pressing into her through my slightly sticky slacks.  "Are you okay?"  She asks again.

"I'm in heaven, right about now." I respond.

"No.  You're not in heaven yet.  Do you mind laying down on the floor?"

I look at her with a grin and as quickly as my body will allow, I get up from the couch and lay down on the soft carpet where the coffee table had been.  "Is this good?" I ask.

"Perfect!"  She straddles me again, her knees on either side of my body with her panties hovering just above my erection, still pressing tightly against the fabric of my slacks.

My assumption is that she is going to gyrate on my dick until I cum, which at this point is not far from happening.  She does grind for just a few seconds while she stares into my eyes.  This is the hard part for me.  "How do I keep it sexual and not just fall in love, right now?" I ask myself.

Still looking into my eyes she scoots herself up on my body, her movement causes my tie to bunch up and she lifts herself resting her crotch on my chest for just a moment. I love the view and I can catch the whiff of her scent.  Her knees are now on either side of my shoulders, legs spread and she rocks herself onto my face.

I control my urge to take action, to grab her ass and instead, let her use my face as a place to grind.  I am the arm of the couch, the edge of the desk, the stuffed animal that she used as a girl to get herself off.   I am also very happy to breathe in the moistness forming in her panties.  This goes on for at least a minute before she turns herself completely around, this time with her ass in my nose and her panty covered pussy riding my mouth and chin.

Just when I think she has forgotten that I am there, she reaches for my slacks and rubs my bulge.  In less than another minute, she cums on my face and simultaneously strokes my cock until I cum in my pants.

She rolls off of me and lays to the right of me.  I'm in sort of a post orgasm daze where the reality of it all starts to set in.  This was great but I have to get back to work and I have an entire load of cum in my pants.


Of course, it is all a fantasy.  Sometimes, it ends with us kissing, or the panties coming off and there is fucking.  In some versions, her husband shows up and in my fantasies, that is never a bad thing.  I am genuinely turned on by married women having naughty fun with  men who aren't their husbands, and I'm even more turned on by the husbands who are okay with it and want to join.

The idea of women being forced into prostitution is horrific to me. I am disgusted when I think of all the women who work clubs and bars that my fellow military members visit, not realizing or more likely turning a blind eye to the fact that the ladies are potentially the victims of some weird human trafficking scheme.  It does happen, and not just overseas.  I have no interest in some down and out woman selling herself to support  a drug habit or because it is the only way she can pay the rent.

I offer all these genuine caveats only to say that I don't see a damn thing wrong with any adult willingly offering whatever sexual services he or she is comfortable with to any consenting adult who is willing to pay for that service.  And while I can't turn a blind eye to the fact that clearly, many of the images I find exciting on Tumblr or other places on the Internet may belong to people who never intended or expected them to be plastered all over creation, I view them in admiration, not in some slut-shaming disgust.  Am I objectifying these nekkid people?  Perhaps.


Mike said...

Great post! In many ways I have similar feelings and thoughts. Well expressed here.

JFBreak said...

Thanks, Mike!

Anonymous said...