Brain Sex?

I wish I had a post like Ice Queer's
something genuine and meaningful, that is not twisted in mental agony like the shit I write.
And that is not stultified by overbearing intellectualism that even I find pretentious.
I wish I could write with this personal tone that is not a shrill tone or a hysterical coloratura, that is even, controlled and almost sweet.

Sigh...

I will have to do endless rewrites of the things that I have in mind so I can bring it down from its abstract convolution and into something melodic.. the art of simplicity, if you may.

But no.

That paradise is not for me.

I live in my head, unfortunately.
It is where everything happens.
It is my G spot.
You rub it, I orgasm.

In every sense of orgasm.

People say the importance of the brain in achieving orgasm is not understood and can not be overestimated. And we all saying that fucking is totally a 'mental' process.

It is said that as a person reaches orgasm the brain centers responsible for emotions-specifically emotions that have to do with fear, anxiety or inhibitions are almost shut down.
And at the same time the overwhelming sensations of neuromuscular euphoria takes over.
Creating a state of intensity and a mental sense of "liberation".

But what if we can achieve that without actually involving sex?
Or more like: Is it possible to achieve this without actually having "traditional sex"?

Today I was walking around the university and as I walked I ran into a professor I knew and one that I had an S&Mish relationship in class with when he gave me a course years ago.
He was a muscle Mary with penchant for fascist, absolutist ideologies and I was faux-serious intellectual queen.
The combination was hilarious and disturbing on so many levels.
And it made me realize that some men "mobilized" the feminine side of me, made the inner diva come out, with a big auburn wig, red lipstick and painful high heels.
And it is completely unconscious.
I don't mean for this to develop, and I only realize its happening when the high heels start hurting my back and I feel I can't stand "straight" (pun intended)

But I enjoy it.

And I even enjoy it more when I realize that this man is not offended that he brought this inner drag queen out.
That secretly - for some twisted reason - he likes it.
Or at least pretends he is accepting it!
It becomes more of a turn on.

And it happened right as I was walking by his office.
We exchanged pleasantries, he asked what am I doing there, and the next thing I know we spend 30 minutes discussing the the post-revolution regime in Egypt and the scenarios for change.
While the excitement by such a topic of discussion can be disputed, the excitement that 'we' (me and him) felt was intense.

I realized that this stimulation was as exciting as actual intercourse.
It was an 'intercourse' of another kind.

It was an 'intercourse' of the mental kind!

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