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Alice & OZ – the female ejaculation or simply: squirting

February 25, 2015 - whoneedslove -

this is the reflection between two characters about the blurry fantasy we paint with alcohol and other mind altering substances around our world – around us.

let it rain . . .

during the 19th century the female ejaculation (colloquial: squirting or gushing) was described as sexual perversion and part of the study ‘Psychopathia Sexualis’ (1886) by Krafft-Ebing. also Freud included this very particular event in his studies, relating it to hysteria, anxieties and basically: disgust

“The pride taken by women in the appearance of their genitals is quite a special feature of their vanity; and disorders of genitals which they think calculated to inspire feelings of repugnance or even disgust have an incredible power of humiliating them, of lowering their self-esteem, and of making them irritable, sensitive, and distrustful. An abnormal secretion of the mucous membrane of the vagina is looked upon as source of disgust.”


Alice Squirted

I didn’t think I could do it, I didn’t think it was possible. It never happened and I gave up ever expecting it to happen, stopped expecting myself to fully relax into someone because all these someone’s flopped me around like a rag doll. We weren’t playing house. We were racing, racing to the end, racing to who could cum faster, who could releave them-self before the other because no one cares for each other. But in a world where women can have multiple orgasms, it really only ends when the guy cums his sad little load and he rolls his sweat soaked body onto his back and pants like a fucking dog. It doesn’t matter if the woman never cam because the penis is done, he’s a shrivelled wet mushroom growing out of a sleeping, relaxed, slightly aching pelvis. The woman is wide eyed and wild. She’ll wait after the walk of shame to her apartment to masturbate to soft core porn.

I faked a lot of orgasms. I did it to be kind to their little egos even though they didn’t deserve it. It took me by surprise when I found someone who did return my kindness. He caressed my skin, he looked at me, we wanted the lights on, we wanted to see each other, every inch of each other. He asked me what I wanted, he wanted to pleasure me, I relaxed into his arms, I trusted him, every vein in my body flooded, the blood rushed up my groin, butterflies in my belly, everything grew warmer, I contracted, relaxed, contracted, I dug my nails into the bed, I dug my nails into his skin and then it happened. Every little fleshy muscle let go, my body and mind gave up, it released itself and we were flooded, bathing in my juices. My insides swollen and wet, dripping. I was in shock and in pleasure and in bliss. It happened again and again and again. We cam together, eyes fixed, bodies contracting in unison. Exhausted and spent we drifted to sleep in each other’s arms in a pool of our love.


I feel like a stallion in a prairie on wide, open land that surrounds us with space to run, I run.
I run for her, to carry her through the desert, over to that mountain we can see far away, to finally drop her to rest and sleep .
there’s no wind, nothing to cool me down, my muscles keep contracting, her pussy keeps contracting.

she’s riding me like a wild horse. I try to lift my head, but she presses her fists on my shoulders, pushing me down,  she’s trying to fuck me into the mattress – resistance useless.

I am the horse, she is the savage, savaging me. she’s biting me, scratching and whipping me.

is she using me to go over that mountain we can see? it doesn’t matter, we are off the world chasing each other up to the peak.

we’re like the wind, breathing, heavy, full of steaming air, but with the height the pressure drops as the temperature. our bodies tighten, they can’t hold their sweat, their juice and other liquids no more.

looking up to her almost reveals slight feelings of embarrassment or guilt. did we go too far? did we push borders or even crossed them. signs of endless suffer and wonderful terror flit over her beauty and I want to release her. I can see her breaking down under the weight of the love she has.

we reach the peak and burst. an avalanche of pleasure and relief gushing down on me is the price she had to pay for the ride. she waters my fur and the soil on the ground we chose to rest on for the night. an ocean of  flowers will grow here, on the ground, on me.

she finds rest and peace, on a bed of flowers she initially found the seeds for, earlier when the light was coming up in the beginning of the day – silence now and awaiting for the sun and her – the tamed phoenix – to rise again from fire and from darkness.

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