![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moominmuppetMy little note to myself about what I wanted to write says "Shared sexual energy (telling stories, talking about turn-ons) vs im-sex and I and You language"
I've been finding it interesting to notice when certain interactions suddenly make me prickly. This is basically about online interactions, mostly semi-anonymous ones. It's something I started noticing on Babblesex, and it's continued with interactions resulting from the xtube and bbwporn/exhibitionism_2 posts.
I love sharing sexual energy; often, that isn't about a direct sexual interaction (in person or online), but just about adding general sexual energy to the environment. And I enjoy spending time in situations and with people that feed that sense of sexual energy in the atmosphere, even if I'm not at all interested in acting on anything at the event or with the person. I tend to think in terms of 'undirected sexual energy' vs 'directed sexual energy' -- one's about overall mood, and doesn't imply anything more, the other's about direct relations with someone else in pursuit of a sexual interaction. The difference between "being aroused" and "lusting after", I suppose.
"I loved your vid and got off hard", or "reading your post about anal sex led to hot times with the SO" would be sharing sexual energy, in the way I think about things. "I want to lick you clean" or "I wish it was me doing that to you" is a bit closer to exchanging fantasies, but when it's in reaction to something I put out there, it's well within context, and generally all cool. "Would you like my cock?" or "What would you do with me?" is much more proposing a direct sexual interaction, even if in a fantasy context. Instead of just being a reaction, it's a form of request, as well. It has the potential to feel more invasive and inappropriate, at least when there's no context for it (when it's coming from a lover or an establish cybersex partner that's a totally different thing!) It puts me in a somewhat uncomfortable position of trying to determine how I want to respond, without any of the context I need to answer (especially since babblesex and xtube profiles rarely tell me much of what I'd like to know). Contrariwise, when propositions are couched within actual interesting and revelatory writing (whether in a message, or in the person's journal/profile), I'm much more flexible; when I can at least see enough commonalities to have someplace to start a conversation, it's a lot easier to make a decision as to whether to.
(insert Rant 3b about obnoxious people who don't respect boundaries or refusals, or presume a libidinous woman is automatically going to be libidinous _about them_ and all that -- y'all know how that one goes, right? So I don't need to write it again, I figure. Take as granted that some people are a pain in the ass, and dealing with folks online means dealing with them, too, and that I find the trade-off/hassle to generally be worth it)
To say I'm promiscuous about cybersex would be a serious understatement; I find it a generally excellent outlet for excess sexual energy, without having to pressure any given person in my life to provide me with more than they can, and without any additional health risks or negotiations necessary. It's all part of taking care of myself so I can just enjoy my partners rather than being dependent on them sexually. So, when I'm in the mood, online sexual-flavored interaction, including cybersex, is certainly something I seek out, and enjoy immensely. In some cases I find someone I connect with well enough for cybering to become a recurrent thing, and this has led to several ongoing friendships, and in a very few, it could potentially be something more down the road. But mostly, it's just fun for me, and also interesting to get a peek into new people's brains and libidos.
There are ways to approach me that work, and ways that really bring out all my prickly spines, though, and that's what I've been thinking about. I really don't like it when folks jump straight into a cybersex dynamic without any conversation to so much as figure out what we both like and want. I really don't need a lot of other chat; we're both there for the same reason after all, and I may actually not _want_ to know enough about the other person to know why we wouldn't click in real life. But I do definitely need the _relevant_ sexual "getting to know you" elements and some general context for the person I'm interacting with. Stabbing in the dark to try to answer "what would you do to me" feels frustrating and pointless, and rather more like a demand than an invitation. Having someone jump straight into what they'd like to do to me, and inadvertently doing a half dozen things that do nothing for me at all, or actively turn me off -- also not great. Hard to pull out of that tailspin with a complete stranger, because it involves either letting it go and having lousy cybersex, or having to correct them after they've already made a substantial mistake, and even gently worded that can be awkward. Exchanging stories is fun, though -- it shares information about hot-buttons and plays with sexual energy and arousal without jumping straight to "you and me doing X", which can feel overly intimate happening to soon. The hottest cybersex has always come out of conversations about tastes and preferences; a gradual move from "talking about what we like" to "having sex". The transition point is notable for how pronoun use changes, for me. It's the difference between "I like doing x" and "I'd like to do x to/with you"; if I'm not feeling the connection, I never get to that pronoun switch. Of course, that doesn't mean I'd necessarily do that person if they showed up at my door, but it does mean I've hit the comfort level I need for fun online play. Rushing too much doesn't work for me, and tends to lead to substandard experiences. And I'd rather have a fun and hot conversation about tastes and preferences than actual cybersex that's mediocre, if I only get to choose one.
Maybe it's a failure of imagination, or maybe it's that I imagine too vividly, but I have trouble brushing past inaccurate detail during cybersex. With a very few intensely D/s explorations excepted, I don't generally suggest anything in cyber that I don't also enjoy in real life, the reactions I communicate are what/how I'd be reacting in actuality, and even my entirely imaginary sex includes appropriate use of lube and not doing things that cause BV or injury, etc. Similar things happen about "this was fun; what if I showed up at your door" sort of fantasy propositions. Even knowing it's extremely unlikely the other person is taking that seriously at all, I still can't bring myself to treat it as occuring totally in a fantasy world; partner negotiations and compatibility issues and such automatically enter my mind, and often my conversation. I can't bring myself to commit to something I'm not sure I'd do, or am sure I wouldn't do -- it feels inaccurate and dishonest and weird, even though intellectually I understand it's just part of the fantasy. All of this stuff is why my cybersex tends to be a bit odd, but also extremely detailed and accurate.
All of this is also why I'm generally more reticent about cybersex with someone I'm planning to meet in person; I've been crossing that boundary more often recently, but it's still something I consider more deeply, since there are elements of expectation and anticipation and potential implied promises embedded. And when I do, the way I write tends to include a lot more space for reality to be very different from fantasy -- a lot of prefaces of "If we click this well in person..." and more open-ended "I'd love to explore how you react when I do X or how we fit together for Y" kind of phrasing, even more so than I generally use. (that's also a pet peeve of mine -- I hate people telling me how I'd be reacting to something unless they already happen to really have that information from conversation or experience)
And in general, I tend to move most slowly and cautiously where things feel like they have the most potential in the long-run. That's true in just about every element of my life.
When I am having cybersex with someone I'm likely to meet in person, though, I find it a really useful way to get a sense of how we might click. A lot of that is psychological/intellectual, so how they write and think is key, as are the random little off-topic asides and the non-sex conversation. But I also learn some really useful stuff from how the cybersex itself goes; not just whether our tastes are compatible, but also how they communicate their own desires and tastes. When I ask what turns someone on, the most frustrating answer has to be "oh, I like everything..." Feedback, people! Really, clarity'll get you better sex! And I definitely notice whether they're learning from what I communicate to them about my own tastes, and using that information to find our points of sexual intersection; whether they're adapting to find an "us" out of the "you" and "me". I've had a few cases where that totally didn't happen, and I was eventually just sitting dumbfounded at the computer, watching the IMs diverge like two paths in a wood, trying to figure out what the hell was going on, and who on earth they were having cybersex with, because it certainly didn't seem to be me. In person, almost the exact same thing happened. I felt like a body to which some random fantasy had been attached, and every attempt to break through that and get things back on track failed miserably, even when I was absolutely direct about it. Needless to say, it wasn't an involvement that progressed beyond the coffee and conversation stage.
Anyway, none of this is particularly effectively organized or coherent; I'm an exhausted space-case today, and I really should stop writing... Only 20 more minutes, and I can go home and collapse! Yay!
I've been finding it interesting to notice when certain interactions suddenly make me prickly. This is basically about online interactions, mostly semi-anonymous ones. It's something I started noticing on Babblesex, and it's continued with interactions resulting from the xtube and bbwporn/exhibitionism_2 posts.
I love sharing sexual energy; often, that isn't about a direct sexual interaction (in person or online), but just about adding general sexual energy to the environment. And I enjoy spending time in situations and with people that feed that sense of sexual energy in the atmosphere, even if I'm not at all interested in acting on anything at the event or with the person. I tend to think in terms of 'undirected sexual energy' vs 'directed sexual energy' -- one's about overall mood, and doesn't imply anything more, the other's about direct relations with someone else in pursuit of a sexual interaction. The difference between "being aroused" and "lusting after", I suppose.
"I loved your vid and got off hard", or "reading your post about anal sex led to hot times with the SO" would be sharing sexual energy, in the way I think about things. "I want to lick you clean" or "I wish it was me doing that to you" is a bit closer to exchanging fantasies, but when it's in reaction to something I put out there, it's well within context, and generally all cool. "Would you like my cock?" or "What would you do with me?" is much more proposing a direct sexual interaction, even if in a fantasy context. Instead of just being a reaction, it's a form of request, as well. It has the potential to feel more invasive and inappropriate, at least when there's no context for it (when it's coming from a lover or an establish cybersex partner that's a totally different thing!) It puts me in a somewhat uncomfortable position of trying to determine how I want to respond, without any of the context I need to answer (especially since babblesex and xtube profiles rarely tell me much of what I'd like to know). Contrariwise, when propositions are couched within actual interesting and revelatory writing (whether in a message, or in the person's journal/profile), I'm much more flexible; when I can at least see enough commonalities to have someplace to start a conversation, it's a lot easier to make a decision as to whether to.
(insert Rant 3b about obnoxious people who don't respect boundaries or refusals, or presume a libidinous woman is automatically going to be libidinous _about them_ and all that -- y'all know how that one goes, right? So I don't need to write it again, I figure. Take as granted that some people are a pain in the ass, and dealing with folks online means dealing with them, too, and that I find the trade-off/hassle to generally be worth it)
To say I'm promiscuous about cybersex would be a serious understatement; I find it a generally excellent outlet for excess sexual energy, without having to pressure any given person in my life to provide me with more than they can, and without any additional health risks or negotiations necessary. It's all part of taking care of myself so I can just enjoy my partners rather than being dependent on them sexually. So, when I'm in the mood, online sexual-flavored interaction, including cybersex, is certainly something I seek out, and enjoy immensely. In some cases I find someone I connect with well enough for cybering to become a recurrent thing, and this has led to several ongoing friendships, and in a very few, it could potentially be something more down the road. But mostly, it's just fun for me, and also interesting to get a peek into new people's brains and libidos.
There are ways to approach me that work, and ways that really bring out all my prickly spines, though, and that's what I've been thinking about. I really don't like it when folks jump straight into a cybersex dynamic without any conversation to so much as figure out what we both like and want. I really don't need a lot of other chat; we're both there for the same reason after all, and I may actually not _want_ to know enough about the other person to know why we wouldn't click in real life. But I do definitely need the _relevant_ sexual "getting to know you" elements and some general context for the person I'm interacting with. Stabbing in the dark to try to answer "what would you do to me" feels frustrating and pointless, and rather more like a demand than an invitation. Having someone jump straight into what they'd like to do to me, and inadvertently doing a half dozen things that do nothing for me at all, or actively turn me off -- also not great. Hard to pull out of that tailspin with a complete stranger, because it involves either letting it go and having lousy cybersex, or having to correct them after they've already made a substantial mistake, and even gently worded that can be awkward. Exchanging stories is fun, though -- it shares information about hot-buttons and plays with sexual energy and arousal without jumping straight to "you and me doing X", which can feel overly intimate happening to soon. The hottest cybersex has always come out of conversations about tastes and preferences; a gradual move from "talking about what we like" to "having sex". The transition point is notable for how pronoun use changes, for me. It's the difference between "I like doing x" and "I'd like to do x to/with you"; if I'm not feeling the connection, I never get to that pronoun switch. Of course, that doesn't mean I'd necessarily do that person if they showed up at my door, but it does mean I've hit the comfort level I need for fun online play. Rushing too much doesn't work for me, and tends to lead to substandard experiences. And I'd rather have a fun and hot conversation about tastes and preferences than actual cybersex that's mediocre, if I only get to choose one.
Maybe it's a failure of imagination, or maybe it's that I imagine too vividly, but I have trouble brushing past inaccurate detail during cybersex. With a very few intensely D/s explorations excepted, I don't generally suggest anything in cyber that I don't also enjoy in real life, the reactions I communicate are what/how I'd be reacting in actuality, and even my entirely imaginary sex includes appropriate use of lube and not doing things that cause BV or injury, etc. Similar things happen about "this was fun; what if I showed up at your door" sort of fantasy propositions. Even knowing it's extremely unlikely the other person is taking that seriously at all, I still can't bring myself to treat it as occuring totally in a fantasy world; partner negotiations and compatibility issues and such automatically enter my mind, and often my conversation. I can't bring myself to commit to something I'm not sure I'd do, or am sure I wouldn't do -- it feels inaccurate and dishonest and weird, even though intellectually I understand it's just part of the fantasy. All of this stuff is why my cybersex tends to be a bit odd, but also extremely detailed and accurate.
All of this is also why I'm generally more reticent about cybersex with someone I'm planning to meet in person; I've been crossing that boundary more often recently, but it's still something I consider more deeply, since there are elements of expectation and anticipation and potential implied promises embedded. And when I do, the way I write tends to include a lot more space for reality to be very different from fantasy -- a lot of prefaces of "If we click this well in person..." and more open-ended "I'd love to explore how you react when I do X or how we fit together for Y" kind of phrasing, even more so than I generally use. (that's also a pet peeve of mine -- I hate people telling me how I'd be reacting to something unless they already happen to really have that information from conversation or experience)
And in general, I tend to move most slowly and cautiously where things feel like they have the most potential in the long-run. That's true in just about every element of my life.
When I am having cybersex with someone I'm likely to meet in person, though, I find it a really useful way to get a sense of how we might click. A lot of that is psychological/intellectual, so how they write and think is key, as are the random little off-topic asides and the non-sex conversation. But I also learn some really useful stuff from how the cybersex itself goes; not just whether our tastes are compatible, but also how they communicate their own desires and tastes. When I ask what turns someone on, the most frustrating answer has to be "oh, I like everything..." Feedback, people! Really, clarity'll get you better sex! And I definitely notice whether they're learning from what I communicate to them about my own tastes, and using that information to find our points of sexual intersection; whether they're adapting to find an "us" out of the "you" and "me". I've had a few cases where that totally didn't happen, and I was eventually just sitting dumbfounded at the computer, watching the IMs diverge like two paths in a wood, trying to figure out what the hell was going on, and who on earth they were having cybersex with, because it certainly didn't seem to be me. In person, almost the exact same thing happened. I felt like a body to which some random fantasy had been attached, and every attempt to break through that and get things back on track failed miserably, even when I was absolutely direct about it. Needless to say, it wasn't an involvement that progressed beyond the coffee and conversation stage.
Anyway, none of this is particularly effectively organized or coherent; I'm an exhausted space-case today, and I really should stop writing... Only 20 more minutes, and I can go home and collapse! Yay!
