Sex is Mental

I believe this. I’ve witnessed it. I’ve experienced it. An utterly euphoric and captivating moment that opened my eyes to the cataclysmic event otherwise known as the full body orgasm that we created right there on the top floor of Marco Pierre White’s roof garden in Birmingham. By ‘we’ I refer to Ms. H, a dear friend of mine who wanted to embark on a journey with me down this tantalisingly delightful rabbit hole of sexual exploration.

It all started when I stumbled across a video demonstrating the beauty and power of Tantric massage – this for me was an Isaac Newton moment. A light was switched on and it was glowing with the possibility of potential. The potential to be so connected, so in tune with yourself and others that you could literally channel your sexual energy back and forth on a mental plane that is seldom explored by the carnal mind.

You’ll have to forgive my grandiose preamble but it really was that fucking awesome.

As we sat in the roof garden drinking Gin and Tonic and Vodka Martinis with her legs wrapped around mine, I slowly stroked the side of her waist as she became increasingly aroused. I was both instigator and spectator and I had a front row seat to the most captivating spectacle I’d witnessed in a long time. I slowly turned her up like a dial whilst we instinctively tuned out the two couples sitting directly opposite us. Void of the social etiquette that would usually cause one to refrain from inducing an eye rolling orgasm in clear view of onlookers, we embraced the rabbit hole as she fought with white knuckles and long nails clawing as my leg in an attempt to subdue the intensity.

Her attempts were futile, and I was the devil. Slowly tempting and corrupting whilst maintaining my look of innocence as I leaned back in my chair and watched her head swaying back and forth. Deep breaths and muted moans registered in the subconscious of the bemused onlookers, who we’re trying not to look. I tuned them out and focused on Ms. H who was experiencing the waves of one of the most beautiful orgasms I’ve ever witnessed – based purely on touch and the power of our connection.

When Ms. H eventually came round she felt a sudden rush of embarrassment which I was definitely not going to allow.  With my hand wrapped firmly around her throat I told her in no uncertain terms to embrace it with her head held high. Her porcelain complexion turned a warm hue as she digested the reality of the situation. She was perplexed – she had an overwhelming feeling of intense satisfaction and wellbeing coupled with the bashfulness of her flagrant disregard for social etiquette on the 25th floor.

So proud of her I was – probably the wrong choice of words but in all honesty that’s how I felt. I was and still am somewhat in ore of her ability to let go and embrace her sexuality to such an extent. What manner of creature have we nurtured!

If sex is mental which I believe it is, this rabbit hole just got a lot fucking deeper.

Ms. H, you’re awesome.


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Stiletto: Inherently sexual

Among all the items of clothing and accessories in a women’s closet none have the power to transform her body and mind like a well-crafted, seductively high-heeled stiletto.

By all accounts the high-heel shoe is clearly not designed to be practical, it’s more a labour of love with a somewhat masochistic nature. There’s a certain shoe that she knows will be unbearable by the end of the night but the way her body responds with a roll of the hips and the thrust of the shoulders is utterly irresistible – there is pleasure in pain. The shoe is unforgiving and offers no place to hide, you’re either fully committed to the performance or the shoe will buck and kick like a wild horse refusing to be tamed.

Louboutin said “The stiletto is a feminine weapon that men just don’t have.” – I agree. The transformation that takes place when a women slips in to a pair of stilettos and the radiance of power sexuality is something that completely captivates men without a comparative rival. Most men don’t really see the shoe but we feel the energy, we feel the presence when she walks in to a room or when she glides past us at Liverpool Street station in the summer. It’s like the entire body has been sculpted literally from head to toe. The elongated neck line and the upright position of the head, the drop of the clavicle bone as it sways left to right, the curve in the back that accentuates her arse, the calves that signify she’s mastered the art, not to mention the arch of the instep that resembles the position of the feet when she experiences a deeply satisfying toe curling orgasm.

It’s fair to say that not all women feel the same, some prefer comfortable flats, trainers or the pointless invention that is the ‘kitten heel’. Each to their own and far be it for me, a man to dictate that a women should suffer for my sexual pleasure but being a creature of natural instinct and desire I reserve the right to discriminate as I see fit. This may be a gross generalisation considering my views are heavily shaped by a western mentality due to my geographical disposition but I am yet to meet a woman who is sexually in tune with her body who wears sneakers all day.

There are of course some unfortunate souls who should in my opinion never attempt to wear high heels no more than a bull should attempt to tip toe. Walking in heels is a skill, most of which can be learnt but not all can be taught, and the most tragic of all is the woman who’s completely unaware. I once saw an attractive female with a decent body walk past me in a club with the grace of an orangutan and the posture of a sloth. It was really awful – an image that I never forgot and regardless of how attractive she may have been on the inside I could never be drawn to that. If this makes me shallow then I’d happily own it because despite what some people say, for me the physical is just as important as intellect and sexuality. They’re the three fundamental pillars of attraction and deserve equal prominence in the selection process.

And as for the insecure man who feels too vertically challenged for his women to wear high-heels; this would be laughable if it wasn’t so tragic. The countless times I heard women state that they stopped wearing heels due to an over bearing partner not feeling ‘comfortable’ with her towering over him makes me embarrassed on behalf my gender – are we not men? Give me a fucking break.

With the level of sexual suppression and judgmental scrutiny that exists in so many facets of our society I think we should embrace anything that helps us to express what’s buried deep within. One of the most happiest memories I have was when I spent time in Italy learning the beautiful art of shoe making and experiencing the energy and excitement that a women feels when she finds that special shoe that not only fits her feet, but her heart as well. It’s not just the shoe that you fall in love with; it’s the uncontrollable emotion that you feel in your gut.

BDSM – A Dark Art

Many years ago I started on a journey of sexual exploration. Being more of a lover than a fighter I have always wanted to please my partners and take them to places unknown. In my attempts to understand the motives and desires that drive me I pondered the question and found the answer staring me in the face – in fact the answer was in her face. I’m drawn to raw sexual energy and I enjoy nurturing it. Like a musician playing an instrument I take time to learn the cords, the notes, the rhythm and sound of intense pleasure channeled through a beautiful body and mind – set free.

With my insatiable desire to experience pleasures beyond the confines of the vanilla matrix I stumbled upon the beautiful dark art of BDSM. My experience is far removed from the stereotypes of abusive and emotionally challenged characters depicted by Hollywood’s mainstream interpretations like the now infamous 50 Shades of Grey. Each to their own but for me BDSM is one of the mediums which I use to embrace deep and intense sexual experiences.

I am naturally Dominant, not to be mistaken with ‘Domineering’ – I Dominate by consent and my aim is to take my sub to new places of ecstasy based on her most deepest fantasies by providing her with an environment where she is able to be truly free. Through BDSM I have learnt a new form of communication where we are able to freely describe to each other in glorious colour exactly what we want and how we want it. She submits to me under certain conditions and I take full responsibility for her whilst she is under my control. We establish her boundaries, how far she’ll allow me to push her, how she likes to be dominated, whether she wants me to spank her arse till it goes red, tie her up so she is unable to move, strangle her till she almost passes out, cum in her face or gently stroke her entire body with a feather light touch. We discuss everything and then I go about creating the most erotic script that we will play out between us during our session.

The script is specific and unique, tailored to her. I will detail the events of the entire session usually lasting 1.5 to 2.5 hours depending on the theme. I will detail every position and every act based on my knowledge of what will give her the most intense experience. I will include floggers, paddles, vibrators, rope, handcuffs, blindfolds, butt plugs, wax, various oils and anything else I need to create the perfect script for her.

This is a massive learning experience for both parties based on trust and a strong mutual desire to please the other. I have come to the realisation that for me, submission seems to flow both ways as we are bound in servitude to each other’s pleasure.

Whilst in session I assume the role of ‘Dominant’ and I carry this out to the fullest degree. What this means is that with the trust and responsibility placed in me I take her on a journey where she can completely let go and enjoy knowing that I have control of the situation. However this is far from Disney and things don’t always go according to plan. Sometimes I can push her to far, or not far enough. Sometimes she’ll try to test my authority when I’m breaking her in. Sometimes I’ll need to discipline her with force or sometimes I’ll need to give her a warm embrace. Sometimes I’ll fuck her like a dirty whore and sometimes I’ll pluck her gently like a delicate flower. Throughout this whole experience I’m learning how to tune in to her body and mind, I watch closely paying attention to her every response, her heart rate, breathing patterns, perspiration, involuntary nerve spasms, eye movement, crying, screaming, scratching, teeth grinding – any and everything that may come to the surface. I try to capture it all and use it to guide me like a compass as we explore this beautiful terrain of ‘Bondage, Dominance, Sadism & Masochism’ otherwise known as ‘B.D.S.M’

What we are dealing with here is the fight for sexual freedom. We are dealing with the confines of everyday life, the control of the Matrix, the shackles of expectation, the judgment of close-minded people and the inability to embrace our essence as sexual creatures. BDSM (as well as many other forms of self realisation) provides a doorway to a world where we can just ‘be’ – in the moment, in ourselves and in each other. It’s the intense connection and the raw sexual energy the way nature intended.

This is what I look for – but not all are suitable, in fact a good sub is exceptionally hard to find. She’s hard to find because you can’t create her, you can only help to unlock what is already buried deep inside.

This is my interpretation of the every elusive, shape shifting dynamics of BDSM embraced by a Deviant mind unplugged. Sex is mental.