MSN 1: Two People Trying to Destroy Each Other

02:40:33 yeah

02:41:05 think it's a possibly misogynistic control thing. Just want to hold you down and keep you down and please myself

02:41:26 shut me up

02:41:31 and use me

02:41:56 yeah, stop you...talking back. Or something. Just take what I want from you.

02:42:32 i have a very distinct memory of my face pushed against brick.. a wall maybe.. damp from the rain

02:42:48 and you pressed hard against my back , with your hands wound in my hair

02:43:20 see...I don't understand why, but you make me feel violent. I've had that with some people but not with everyone. I don't understand the chemistry of it.

02:43:59 i love that. it charges me up so much.

02:44:48 makes me want to struggle just to be restrained harder

02:45:22 * thinking *

02:45:41 * feeling *

02:45:54 * wan --

02:46:35 I want to...I suppose my lying on your back thing, the root is, I want to possess you and make you helpless

02:47:23 its hard to analyse this stuff... when you say "you make me feel violent".. that hits me in the pit of my stomach.. in such a good way

02:48:08 yeah...my curiosity is, I don't feel that way about everyone. I was very violent with H (D's ex), but it's not my norm.

02:48:27 well, a few possibilities

02:48:37 its to do with her and me - the fact we want it

02:48:48 or its to do with the context

02:49:40 I think it's partly being intimidated and bewitched at the same time...makes me want to physically and mentally crush you in revenge

02:50:03 yes. its a lot to do with the fact that i argue with you and challenge you and exhaust you

02:50:20 R and i are like that... not always, but often ..and at first, always

02:51:16 yeah, you're a more dominant personality than me. So there's a massive backlash.

02:52:11 It makes it D H Lawrence style sex. 'He could only conceive of the sex act as two people trying to destroy each other' -- Earl Russell.

Purple = Me

Black = Him

Train (of) Thoughts

B seduces me with words. There is, as he said, a 'powerful mutual physical attraction', but that isn't what does it. When my mind wanders, when I'm struck by a memory that makes my stomach go suddenly hollow, it's verbal. I remember stuff he's said: jokes, compliments, statements about what he'd like to do to me, how I make him feel, replaying real encounters we've had. We meet up and we start to give in to our desire but then we stop. Responsibility to other people (and, in his case at least, fear about falling too hard for each other) gets in the way. So we go home and go online and 'talk' to each other on MSN for half the night.

Through typed words alone, he reduces me to a quivering breathless mass of sexual desire. There's nothing of the body in it, not even as much as in handwriting or speech. I remember the physical events, they turn me on, but I don't dwell on them in quite the same way. And when I do, it's about what we said and about what I think he was thinking when he touched me like that. The look in his eyes. The conflict in him. His desire fighting against his better judgement. [More on that at a later date.]

And my ultimate desire to really fuck him is at least partly because I want to destroy his ability to think and to articulate. It's ridiculous. It's his verbal dexterity that makes me want him so much, but what I want is the dissolution of that dexterity. What really makes me catch my breath is when his brain melts. When he can no longer manage the quotations, the witty phrases, the polysyllables. When he can do nothing except mumble obscenities or inanities, and grab me and bite me and smack my arse. The sudden plummet from the ultra-intellectual to the visceral. The funny thing is that most blokes are like that most of the time, and it turns me off. What I want is to take the clever articulate ones and turn them into gibbering priapic wrecks.

Is this a statement of principle? A mission? Is it possible to stick to verbal fucking alone? Because when we kiss, when we grope and stumble and stagger together, it's not just biology. It's the end result of the way we talk and write to each other. The verbal tension-building. Is it possible to go so deep into someone's sexual psyche, to know so much, that you can never forget it? That it's always going to get in the way, at least until you've fucked and destroyed the mystique and the tension and the imagining and reduced each other to sweaty, spludgy, rutting animals?

None of which erases the fact that I want to feel him come inside me. I want to hear him come. I want to see his face. I want to know if he groans my name. All those times on MSN I made it happen - I chose my words so carefully that he came over himself, but I didn't get my reward. The sound, the look, the smell, the taste. Yes, I do love talking to him. Yes, he is witty and articulate and ridiculously educated. But I want to drink his come. I want him to come in my mouth. I want him to come over my face and up my cunt and in my hair. I want him to come with his hand tangled in my hair, or over my mouth, gagging me, with his cock inside me.

But why can't that be just anyone? Desire is such a weird, fucked-up thing. Just because he can talk like that - why should that mean I want to feel him orgasm inside me? What the fuck is the connection there? And what I should do about any of it is another matter entirely.

What This Is, and Why

Inspired by the incomparable Bitchy Jones, I've decided to try to write about sex. Well, not sex exactly; I'm not intending to give lots of gory details. More to try to thrash out (ho ho) the stuff that goes on in my head and why some things turn me on so much.

I found myself on a train the other day, coming back from a work-type thing. Beautiful countryside outside, water and bridges and hills. I was very sleepy (it had been an early start) but I knew I should get on with something useful, so I took out my notepad and my biro. The sun was warm on my skin and I couldn't concentrate on work. Instead, I found myself wandering into the dark alleyways of my mind: replaying real events, fantasising about different endings. I scribbled four sides of A4 in an intense 20-minute burst, and presenting a version of that here seems like a good place to start (if I can decipher my own handwriting).