Sometimes people who read this blog see me as an anomaly. Honestly, I think it’s pretty logical and simple, once explained, what the motor is behind wanting to please a woman in bed so badly.
As a man, I measure myself by doing the manliest thing a man can do: have sex with a woman. And I measure my value in these moments by how many times I bring a reaction like the ones above to my counterpart. Plain and simple.
I measure me against myself in how well I fuck you.
In life, so many external factors get in the way in other areas. In business, I can be exceptional, but if the client has no money, the client has no money, and I can’t do shit about that.
But in bed, I get to control all the levers. You have convinced yourself somehow that you really need to be “in the mood” or “in the right frame of mind” to have an orgasm. But you never fucked me, either, Kitten. I’ll take your “mood” argument and finger it so hard and fast you will have no choice but to cum for Daddy, whether you want to or not.
So I measure who I am as a man at this moment alone with you. I want to steamroll you. I want to completely wipe you fucking out. I want you spastically shaking in pleasurable bliss screaming at the top of your lungs.
The more times I see those legs shake, those knees buckle, that back arching, that head flipping back, that hip twist.
The better I feel about my station in life.