I miss penetration.

When I have sex again, I want it to feel real. I want it to be intense. Because I’m intense. I need someone who can handle my intensity and not run away.

I want to feel embracing, I want to feel a connection. I want to feel communication. I want to feel comfortable, I want to feel alive.

I want her to feel tight. I don’t ask for much, damn it; I don’t know what tight feels like.

When I have sex, it won’t be because she’s there and convenient. It won’t be because she’ll say yes. It’ll be because I want to be inside her.

I have put myself in sexual situations where I felt completely uncomfortable, where I felt repressed, where I felt dirty afterwards. My penis, my entire body, is special. It deserves to be admired, and all of me desires affection. (I meant to type “deserves affection”, but it DOES desire affection, too.) I have sometimes forced myself into doing things that maybe I shouldn’t have. Sometimes it works out for the best. Other times, not. I should never ignore that little voice that thinks I shouldn’t. Because there’s plenty of other times I’ve done things and, guess what, it felt completely right. That voice feels happy when I do that.

I used to write a lot about the dos and don’ts of who I’d have sex with. Thinking in terms of some absolute logical scale. But I get it now. All I care is that I listen to myself. I know what I want. I want it to feel right. And I deserve to never settle for anything less.