My most arduous sexual experience

I've been having fun taking story ideas from an ALT friend for an erotic story. I should be re-writing that, but I need a break. So I'm goofing off in order to share a personal true story. Don't expect to be aroused. I wasn't. And that brings us to today's topic: can a man still get an erection during bad sex? I found out that the answer is yes.

Back when I was in the Army I was stationed in Germany. I was being deployed all the time and with practically no notice. Consequently, it was impossible to plan much travel around Europe. I just never knew if my deposit on travel tickets was going to be lost because of another last minute mission to Bosnia or not.
But I got an opportunity to take a weekend bus trip to Paris, France. My wife and I were very excited. I grew up speaking French and I'm very fluent and wanted to practice. We both looked forward to getting a guided tour of the romantic City of Lights. But we ended up participating in what I can only describe as a tourist death march. (As in: "If it's 7:50PM, it must be the Moulin Rouge.")

Loaded onto a giant tour bus Friday night, we slept in our seats and woke up with stiff necks the next morning in Paris. Then it was a series of lightning visits to all the major sites of the city. But there was so much to see that it became ridiculous. Our able, amusing and flamboyantly gay German tour guide, Franz, would announce things like: "next stop the Louvre museum. Dear people, you have 45 minutes to fit in lunch and a visit to the exhibition halls." If you've ever been, you know that it can take 2 days to enjoy all the art in the Louvre. 45 minutes is patently ludicrous. And yet we kept up this relentless pace all day and into the night. And since Saturday was New Years we didn't crawl back to our hotel at the outskirts of Paris until 3:00AM. I was exhausted.

Thoughts: Goddess Worship

Something unusual happens in the early morning hours when I am deeply in love with a woman. Unable to fully fall asleep, my mind will wander and dream of goddess worship. This might seem patently weird in the light of day. In fact, it is my experience that the women I have known will flinch from even being called a goddess. Maybe because it seems so over the top as to be insincere?


Justine Joli: a model I wouldn't mind putting on a pedestal

But in the same way that an objectively bad singing voice can still resonates beautifully in the shower, these 3:00AM fantasies of goddess worship seem both heartfelt and imminently possible. As I toss and sweat into the sheets, I can feel my cock swollen with unspent sexual energy. Neither fully awake or able to fall asleep, I play out how I want to worship the lovely Courie. I picture her in the long robes of a pagan priestess, reclining on a throne at the top of an altar. She actually looks more like an eternal and ancient godhead. She seems to shine somehow. Gazing up at her, she becomes the embodiment of everything that is vibrant, powerful and wise. She's both my virginal maiden and my lusty whore. She's every contradiction and every emotional extreme. She's the embodiment of joy and life itself. I love her for all of it. When experiencing this much intensity of feeling, worship is the only sane response.

Would you lead me up the altar? Please put a ceremonial leash around my cock. Use it to pull me up the altar steps to your throne. Spread your knees and reveal your sex to me. I would joyfully and willingly debase myself as your slave - simply as a way to prove my devotion and awe of you. You need only ask. I would sacrifice anything and obliterate my own ego for you. I whisper how much I love my goddess, and you pull me down between your knees. Your cunt is the center of the universe. And you are presenting it as a gift to me. You are allowing me the priviledge of licking your clit. Grab my hair and pull me to you. With firm but gentle touch, guide my hands over your breasts and thighs. Guide my mouth to your sex. You remain coolness personified. You accept my worship as your due. You control me with directional tugs of my hair and quiet simple commands like: up, down, harder, softer, more. So guide my tongue to you clit.

Did you know that your wet cunt is magical? Every fiber of my being actually needs to bring you repeated orgasms. Because each climax that courses through your body is a prayer and intrument of communion with the devine. Each gasp of pleasure you utter is a blessing for me. I never want to breath anything else but the scent of your sex. Smother my face as you gyrate and buck your hips. Coat my face and tongue with the taste of your cum. Annoint me as your acolyte and worshipper! Sadly, I'll probably never get to worship her in this way. In the light of day, these fantasies seem too outlandish to express. Then again, a goddess is due devotion and sacrifice. So I suppose that's why I write this...