Romance writer Chloe Thurlow

Literary romance

Male Desires and All The Men I Have Slept With

Male desires come in every shape, just like their penises, more shades than the rainbow, more mysterious than you can imagine. More mysterious than you can imagine.

Ramon – bless him – would wake with an erection and I gulped down a mouthful of protein before starting my hectic day. At night, after he had come, he would stay hard and fall asleep inside me as he softened. There is nothing like the male desires of a younger lover.

Male desires are often brutal. Their caveman genes demand obedience, domination, a heavy hand. I remember the stranger I met in a champagne bar in Soho where I often went with Lizzie, sometimes alone. He held my wrist all the way back to my flat as if I were a bird that might take wing and fly through the taxi window.

‘Take your clothes off,’ he said, the moment I closed the door and I did. ‘Have you been a naughty girl?’image shows girl being spanked

‘Yes,’ I replied in all honesty.

‘Then come here.’

I stretched over his knee and he gave my ass a good tanning, warming all the coils and spirals about my bottom until lines of fire stretched through me and I was wet with lust long before penetration, a casual disappointment.

Male Desires & DNA

There were others who were truly brutal. They call you a slag and a slut. They hit you and take you by force, their male desires fed by their own failings and lack of self-worth. It’s always a danger going home with strangers met randomly in bars and on dance floors, but it shakes you from the luke warm bath of our quotidian existence. A life without danger is a life that has never been lived. I had a boyfriend once who jumped with a parachute into the Amazon jungle and took twenty days to walk out. He was a considerate lover. 

Not all male desires are brutal. They can be timid, unrealised, misunderstood. They love women without knowing what a woman wants and what a woman wants is to feel their weight on top of them. They want to be filled to the rim and drilled deep as if in your core is an undiscovered seam of gold.

I remember the man who never took off his socks. The matador I met in Andalusia who dressed in his suit of lights and teased me, swirling and turning with his flesh-coloured cape as we chased about the hotel room. There was one who snored and one who got out of bed immediately to wash my salt-sea smell from his genitals. I recall the man whose cock was too big and another whose cock was so small it felt like a feather tickling my insides and I had to force away the laughter bubbling up inside me.

Male desires are a mystery to women, an enigma. They are complex, pumped up with ego, and often turn liquid. They lick, they dribble, they come over your face, they piss on you. There is some renegade gene, some kink in the DNA, that makes men both worship and want to destroy beauty. It was always the most beautiful girl in the tribe chosen for sacrifice, a virgin, the fantasy of every elder who knows he will never have her. Better to send her to the flames than watching some young stud take the prize.

Male desires grow romantic after ejaculation and they want to marry you. They want to know when you lost your virginity. They want to know how many men you have slept with. They want you to be as pure as the driven snow when you appear on their arm and a skilled courtesan between their bedsheets. 

Men may imagine they are the hunters but they are only one half of the matrix and women like magnets are hunting to connect. Men thrive on male delusions and women flourish on male desires.

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“An erotic novel that touches on a range of social and philosophical issues. Sex scenes are notoriously difficult to get right, and it’s equally difficult to avoid tedious repetition if you’re writing a succession of them. Thurlow does both and manages to integrate them in an absorbing story.” 5***** JWM – Amazon 

9 Discussions on
“Male Desires and All The Men I Have Slept With”
  • I have known many women but I only beat one, and that was because she asked me to. I once seduced a girl with my regimental sword after a wedding but the trace of my blade was slow, languorous, allowing time for the dissent that never came. I never asked a girl when she lost her virginity or how many men she’d slept with and I have never pissed on a girl.

    Are these weaknesses in your eyes; am I not alpha enough? But I also was in the jungle. I flew in by helicopter in Brunei and then Belize, just as I flew into the desert in Iraq and Afghanistan and before that, the streets of Northern Ireland. I was leading other men, over 100. I was their alpha.

    My desires are complex and enigmatic but I never sought to destroy or even degrade my lovers. I put my perspective here:

  • As always very insightful. Ultimately at a very base level it is all about control. As you say if even at a basic sharing level that a lover just wants to feel my weight on her. Or others that I have had, where I pull her hands up over her head and pinning them together while I hold her thumbs and then push deep with my fingers into her pussy with my other hand. All in an stairwell just outside the Office.

    Striking and slapping a women (consensually) for me has not been about my own low self esteem, I would disagree with that , for men I think that this world is just so PC , to have a lover who wants that from you. Its how do I say this , a throwback to the caveman genetics…? Where men feel that they must control everything we say and do so as not offend. Then strangely the woman who is a superior to you in business becomes your lover and you realise that all she wants is to be dominated by a man… When in society in business she feel she must compete and beat them all of the time?? To take the mask off and be who we are sexually… Is it who we are as true human beings??

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