She Bit Me Out Of Compulsion While I Was Petting Her.

H/t to James Streissand on Twitter for this post’s “food for thought.”

It’s currently Sunday Evening, August 28th, 2022 as I sit here and write this. The belly dancer has gone home and “Velvet” is doing her thing, whatever it is that she’s doing. Aside from Rian Stone morphing into the new “Jordan B Tate-Peterson” and fucking with the Twitter bros, it’s been a fairly quiet afternoon/evening on the internet.

August is almost over. School is either back in session or will begin very shortly, depending on where you live. Summer is almost gone. Hello, Autumn. Goodbye to hot temperatures and welcome cooler mornings and evenings. Soon it will be the changing of the colors and the Reaping will commence. Welcome the Harvest. If there is a harvest to be had.

Back to the title of this post though:

Yesterday while the belly dancer was with me, she was sitting next to me, touching my neck and shoulder, and then she leaned over and bit me. This isn’t the first time she has done that. It’s also not the first time I’ve had a woman bite me for literally no other reason than that she could. I have done the same. Perhaps it is a “compulsion” as James put it. At least that is how the belly dancer put it to me when I remarked on what she had just done.

“I don’t know. I just had to do it.

I get it. When I have found myself biting a woman, it was literally for no other reason than I felt that I had to. My desire for her was so strong in that moment that there was literally nothing else that I could do that would satisfy that craving.

That led me to thinking about kissing.

I may be wrong, but I believe that humans are the only species of animal on the planet that kiss as a form of desire, bonding, and connection. You can train a primate to do it, but it’s pretty much a parlor trick if you do.

I’m sure that the internet will be more than happy to show me the error of my ways, with mountains of links, studies, and literature, if I’m incorrect. And if I am, so be it, I’ll learn something new.

Kissing is more important to me than even “fornication.” (LOL)

I’m laughing because of something that happened on Twitter over the weekend, but my statement remains unaltered. Kissing is actually more important to me than the act of sex. How a woman kisses is more important to me than how she fucks.

I can deal with a woman who is “ho-hum” in the sack, as long as she excited about having sex with me, I’m good. I can teach her things if she wants to be a willing student. And over time, she learns things and sometimes even shows me things that I haven’t experienced or thought of.

But the kissing…

If she’s the kind of woman who just “pecks,” that’s a turn-off to me. If she’s the type of woman that is wild and all over the place when kissing me, I usually feel like I just got licked by a dog. I’m not a big fan of that either, although it is better, by a small degree, than a woman who just pecks.

Thinking about women who slobber-kiss, that reminds me of an old flame from my youth. While she was my first sexual experience, she wasn’t my first kiss. But then again, I was a teenager and had only kissed a few girls before her, and so my experience there was also extremely limited. In 2015, after I had gotten divorced, I had a chance opportunity where I had run into this old flame. 25 years later, we crossed paths once again.

I remember talking to her and catching up. I also remember that she left way more of an impression on me than I ever did on her apparently. It took her a moment to recognize me and remember who I was. I also remember eventually getting her back to my place. Two adults closing in on middle age now, instead of the literal children we had been when we first met.

I also remember us kissing, again, after 25 years….

And she slobbered all over me like a dog.

I vaguely recall that was how she kissed when we were young, but back then, like I said a moment ago, my experience with kissing was extremely limited. Not so much anymore. All I can remember of that particular night in 2015, while she was slobbering on my face, was thinking, “What the fuck? Woah, slow down the waterworks and ease up a bit.”

I’m laughing about it now as I’m writing this. I didn’t leave much of an impression on her from all the way, “back in the day,” but she sure as hell left a “new” impression with me. Slobber-kisser.

I may sound “mean” saying that, but there it is.

I remember my Bosnian woman from about a year ago. She too, was all over the place with her kissing. I loved her enthusiasm, but baby needed to get her tongue under control instead of trying to pierce my lungs via my throat with it.

James, if you happen to read this, and I hope you do, thank you.

Thanks for the tweet that you made and put out to the world. Thanks for sharing that brief moment with me. It unlocked a slew of memories for me and it made me realize one of my priorities when it comes to women.

Ah kissing. There’s nothing better than a great kiss.

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