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Temporary Loss Of Control

Wicked WednesdayI am something of a self-control freak. I get uncomfortable when I am not the master of my own destiny. I’m not really one for placing myself in other’s hands. Oh, I accept that there are times when I have to rely on others; I cannot know or do everything myself. I am, however, at my most comfortable when I know that the things in my life that I can influence and control are being controlled to the fullest of my ability.

Even when it comes to sex, generally I prefer to do things “my way”. The Dominant in me likes to lead, to take charge, to direct. When I go down on a woman, I love that I have the ability to control, to a certain extent, her climax. The pace and pressure of my tongue on her clit, the exploration of her clit, the teasing, the tormenting and her eventual release are all to some extent being dictated by me. Edging is a very definite exercise of control.

Conversely though, during sex is one of the few times when I actually enjoy losing control. I don’t mean that I let someone else take control; simply that my self control slips away.

I have written about it before. It’s in the final build up, those last agonisingly intense moments of pleasure before climax. Self-control slips away leaving my primal self. The most primitive part of my brain asserts its control over me as I am reduced to ancient animal self; the male in rut.

Given that my progeny-siring days are behind me, sex for me is entirely recreational. And yet, despite that, despite all my intentions of being a passionate and compassionate lover, at some point during sex, that primitive, deep-seated procreative urge will rise up and take over. In those final moments it is no longer about pleasure for me or her, I am being driven entirely by need. In those moments I am fucking her for no other reason than the need for sexual release; my self-control has been stripped away, the rational, thinking part of my brain has been disconnected as the primal regions temporarily gain ascendancy.

That very final moment before release has an intensity that, for me, is even greater than the release of orgasm. The urge, the desire, the tension, the need combine to form a singularity at the very core of my being, overwhelming my senses.

And then, I let go. Orgasm frees me both physically and existentially. Come and tension drain from my body, the primitive animal is cast out, breathing and heartbeat slowly return to normal. Control is gradually regained.