on demand, part four

Something about the introduction and the conclusion of the night somewhat horrified me: It was my first meta sexual experience: He asked me if I could squirt before we hooked up—as if he were preparing to order something off the menu of my blog—I squirted for him in person, and then he suggested that I blog about it. It turns out that he hadn’t read my blog beforehand. It turns out that in Montana “squirting” is small talk and “you made me leak, you freak” is something that a dexterous poet might come up with impromptu. But, what if?

Soon thereafter I watched Empire Records with my best friend, and we speculated about what it would be like to be Rex Manning—the man, himself, or the actor who plays him. We searched for “Rex Manning” on imdb and discovered that it was Maxwell Caulfield’s most significant role as an actor. A close second is his one-episode appearance on “The Nanny.” Do the women he sleeps with request that he does moves out of the “Say No More, Mon Amour!” music video? Are they disappointed if he doesn’t comply? At what point does the novelty wear off? If I slept with Maxwell Caulfield, I don’t think I would be able to control myself from screaming, “Ohhh Rexy, you’re sooo sexy!!!”

When porn stars fuck, do they have to do it like they do it in their videos, as to not disappoint their real-life partners? Does Tony Danza always have to pull out The Danza?

What is my trademark move? And, more importantly, should I plant it in my blog?

I considered the things that are awesome to do, but hard to bring up: Squirting, ass fingering, etc. Essentially, I could make a list of acts that I like and hope that guys take note. I’m sure they would. It would be both convenient and flattering if they wanted to do something on my list. As a sexual narcissist, I would feel like they were preparing for me.

I think of how I felt when a friend told me that he went out of his way to jerk off before we hung out so he could last longer for me: flattered. I thought, “Aw, so sweet! He took the time to think about fucking me before we actually fucked. He mentally prepared FOR me and touched his penis FOR me. Even if his attempt at lasting long failed, I applaud him for his consideration. What a thoughtful guy.” As a sexual narcissist, knowing that people think about me on their own time  is almost a greater thrill than knowing that people want to fuck me in real life. The former is more deliberate and less explicitly rewarding; it’s all about me.

Which brings me to the sad alternative reality of planting suggestions in my blog for prospective partners. What if people sleep with me to become immortalized in writing? Danny might not have approached me because he read that I am a squirter—oddly enough, that appears to have been a coincidence—but he did sleep with me expecting to be written about. He was enthusiastic about that prospect, even suggesting it himself. It would be devastating for me, as a narcissist, if someone else’s narcissistic desire to be blogged about becomes a primary motivation in his or her decision to sleep with me.

Lack of enthusiasm about serving others’ ego needs aside, having people request acts that I mention on my blog could make sex seem scripted and could lose its novelty quickly. Even Rex Manning must have a more diverse repertoire than that displayed in his one music video.

Dear Boys and Girls,

If you touch my asshole at the right time, I might orgasm. And if you cum on me, I will most likely cum all over myself. But there is no formula and I don’t want it the same way every time. Sometimes I want it slow and careful, and sometimes I want it a little rapey.

XOXO,

Genie