When Peter is hard, aroused beyond recognition, all the signs change. There is no amber, green or red. We're in another dimension. Blood rushes through arteries. We're on a highway where rules fade and the only rule is to pleasure the flesh.

Beneath my fingers, his skin sings. I take pleasure in the stroke. He's capable of being satisfied with the simplest brush of the fingers or tight grip on his cock. The options stretch out, yet his protruding cock takes pride of place as our limbs untangle and I position myself between his thighs, on my elbows, eye to eye with his hard cock.

While some may think it profane to utter the word cock, I find it poetic. When he says that he wants my lips wrapped around his cock, it's his tone that does it. His razor-like tone may as well enter me. I adore it. Live for it. He doesn't tiptoe around the subject, uses his body to relay his need...

Great sex requires attention to detail. It should be a time when thought ceases and sensation reigns. One reason being with my lover is more sexually satisfying then being with my husband is that when I am with Victor, in those short hours, the rest of the world drops away. I am fully present, perhaps because in the urgency of seeing each other I innately realize that this present moment is the only one we have and so I truly cherish it. The truth is each and every present moment is the only one we are guaranteed and should be just as cherished as those precious hours with my lover. The trick for me, and I suspect for most of us who bring too many stressors into the bedroom, is to be able to do the same with my spouse. Maybe I should start by tuning everything else out when my husband takes my sore foot in his hand and by asking him to do the same. It may be a tiny start, but we all have to begin somewhere...

I'm a throatfucker. I like a big cock in my throat.

There's an obliterating quality to intense sexual experiences that I crave. I want to quash my mind, and any attachments to who I think I am. I like to get whipped, nippled tortured, fucked hard, ass fucked and throat fucked. I love the delicious feeling that every orifice is available to my lover, at any time. I like my lover fucking my face so hard, that I wonder if my neck will be injured or my esophagus will burst...

It is a delicate thing. The formula needs to be just right... a dash of desire, a pinch of attraction, a spoonful of perfect personality and that secret ingredient (I can't tell, it's a secret). But when it is right the potion that is wanting and being wanted is the most powerful aphrodisiac in the world. Girls go a little naughty and boys well they will do just about anything to have this that is wanted. Oh, you have to love that. A drug, a spell, an incantation, an addiction that drives all to places they believe they are the first to reach.

The power of being wanted is intoxicating. The moment he sighs your name is wickedly delicious. The moment she says, "Please!" and you know that please is everything you want, everything thing you possibly desire can make you breathless.

Nothing is more beautiful in that moment than the person on the other side of that wanting. Nothing would substitute in that time and place and for those magical minutes everything is right. Every word is perfect because it is a gift to you. Every request is granted because nothing can be wrong when this wanting is so right...

Isn't it funny how most w4m ads are like checklists of requirements. These women think finding a guy is like ordering a sandwich - a little more height please, easy on the love of sports, and can you throw in a weekend house in the mountains and a willingness to support some other guy's children?

If men wrote their m4w ads the same way, we would expect to see something like this:

Looking to meet the woman of my dreams. Someone who appreciates me for who I am. I love big TV's, big trucks, baseball caps, and wife-beater tanks. I love going out with my friends to get drunk at strip clubs too. I'm looking for a nice woman who is not looking to jump into a relationship too soon but who knows what it means to be sexy and take care of her partner. Please no BBW's (sorry) but you won't look good on my arm when I wear a white t-shirt...

Sometimes I wish I could come like the women in the porn videos. Glacial, porcelain dolls with flawless skin and perfectly made-up faces.

You don't see their bodies going blotchily red and hear them howling like a banshee. There is no sloppy wet patch where their mouths have dribbled on the pillow or a puddle of gunk where the mixture of semen and orgasm has leaked convulsively from between their legs.

Their faces remain uniformly the colour the make-up artist applied earlier, not red-cheeked and white-eyed, frantically blinking....

1. A CLEAN HOUSE. There is something about a new female lover coming over that gets a man interested in cleaning. Never seen your partner volunteer to vacuum? Didn’t know he could dust? Watch as dirty clothes get picked up, dishes get put away and your house becomes sparkling clean.

2. LAUNDERED FRESH SHEETS AND TOWELS. When it is just you and your partner, it can be easy to leave the same sheets on the bed for weeks and to avoid washing the towels in the bathroom. But when you start opening your home up to new love, watch how much your man enjoys doing the laundry. If you want your house to seem like an elegant hotel with clean sheets and fresh towels every night, fill up your calendar with dates and see how much joy it brings him to do another load of wash....

Returning Creation (from the High Couch of Silistria series), by Janet Morris.
If you like to see ladies brought low, and then raised up to be worshipped, and then brought low again, then the "High Couch of Silistra" series is for you. Set on a planet of psychically-gifted people who embrace sexual diversity and peace, the series is focused mainly on sexual slavery and war. Our heroine is a prostitute (a noble calling on her world) who holds the "high couch" of her town - basically, she's the sex duchess. Unfortunately she's always being kidnapped or taken to other worlds where she's tied up, forced to have degrading sex, and (of course) has lots of tearful, shame-faced orgasms. Silly and pulpy, the first novel in the series is basically a swashbuckler with kinky bondage thrown in between sword fights. Also, there is a giant flying cat.
Kinks: Sexual slavery, bondage.

That portion of a woman that appeals to man’s depravity
Is constructed with considerable care,
And what appears to you to be a simple little cavity
Is really an elaborate affair.

And doctors of distinction who’ve examined these phenomena
In numbers of experimental dames,
Have made a list of all the things in feminine abdomena,
And given them delightful Latin names.

There’s the vulva, the vagina, and the jolly perinium;
The hymen (which is found in many brides),
And lots of little gadgets you would love if you could see ‘em:
The clitoris and lord knows what besides.

What a pity then it is, that when we common people chatter
Of the mysteries to which I have referred,
We should use for such a delicate and complicated matter
Such a very short and unattractive word.

…sex can evolve beyond orgasms. Sex can be transformed to become an individual vocabulary of erotic gestures, combining bodies to reach high states of arousal and desire, beyond a quest for orgasms by either woman or man. Sex can become something new, something we have not yet seen, something that we all now create by taking private, very courageous, steps.

COME, madam, come, all rest my powers defy ;
Until I labour, I in labour lie.
The foe ofttimes, having the foe in sight,
Is tired with standing, though he never fight.
Off with that girdle, like heaven's zone glittering,
But a far fairer world encompassing.
Unpin that spangled breast-plate, which you wear,
That th' eyes of busy fools may be stopp'd there.
Unlace yourself, for that harmonious chime
Tells me from you that now it is bed-time.
Off with that happy busk, which I envy,
That still can be, and still can stand so nigh.
Your gown going off such beauteous state reveals,
As when from flowery meads th' hill's shadow steals.
Off with your wiry coronet, and show
The hairy diadems which on you do grow.
Off with your hose and shoes ; then softly tread
In this love's hallow'd temple, this soft bed.
In such white robes heaven's angels used to be
Revealed to men ; thou, angel, bring'st with thee
A heaven-like Mahomet's paradise ; and though
Ill spirits walk in white, we easily know
By this these angels from an evil sprite ;
Those set our hairs, but these our flesh upright.
Licence my roving hands, and let them go
Before, behind, between, above, below.
O, my America, my Newfoundland,
My kingdom, safest when with one man mann'd,
My mine of precious stones, my empery ;
How am I blest in thus discovering thee !
To enter in these bonds, is to be free ;
Then, where my hand is set, my soul shall be.
Full nakedness ! All joys are due to thee...

Sex, as they harshly call it,
I fell into this morning
at ten o'clock, a drizzling hour
of traffic and wet newspapers.
I thought of him who yesterday
clearly didn't
turn me to a hot field
ready for plowing,
and longing for that young man
pierced me to the roots
bathing every vein, etc.
All day he appears to me
touchingly desirable,
a prize one could wreck one's peace for.
I'd call it love if love
didn't take so many years
but lust too is a jewel
a sweet flower and what
pure happiness to know
all our high-toned questions
breed in a lively animal...

"I'm the sort of girl
you must first tell you love."
"I love you," I said.
She gave herself to me then
and I enjoyed her on her perfumed bed.

By the gods, the pleasure in her small
wriggling body was so great,
I had spoken no lecherous falsehood.
Now not I nor my beloved,
such is our heat,
can wait for either words or scented sheet
but on her or my raincoat go roughly to it.

Sarki was a huge mountain gorilla, and usually not very
amicable. But he had seemed to take to Kate
immediately, usually hanging over her shoulder or
something whenever she was in his cage. Today was no
exception, as she climbed up toward the ceiling to get
at the lights. There was a large platform near the
ceiling and she climbed up to that in order to inspect
the lights better.

Sarki pulled his bulk right up next to her, but there
was plenty of room up there. She stood up and craned
her neck, trying to look straight up while keeping her
balance. Suddenly, she felt a large hand on her ass,
slowly stroking it, She turned around quickly, and
found Sarki staring at her as his hand caressed her.
She stood frozen, afraid that he might push her off the
ledge or something. But what he actually did was bring
his other hand up and began to feel her breasts through
her t-shirt.

Standing very still, Kate slowly reached out, to push
Sarki's hand away from her breast, she gripped his
thumb, and twisted his hand back away from her. The
animal became mad at this action, and shoved Kate
roughly back, she fell over trying to stop her forward
motion, not wanting to fall over the edge of the
platform. Kate landed hard, on her stomach, and had the
wind knocked out of her. She lay there for a moment
struggling for breath, then to her shock she felt her
shorts being ripped from her body. Sarki just tore the
material apart like it was paper. Kate was frozen with
fear by the beast's exhibition of shear strength. She
wanted nothing more than to get out of this situation
as fast as she could...