definitions and being with an alien

When you ask someone how many people they've had sex with, it generally takes them less than a second to respond if they've been with a few...maybe a couple seconds if they have to tally the names or locations or faces on their fingers. They usually don't respond with "I don't know" unless they're not super concerned with their partners and weren't aware of the name/location/face they were engaging in intercourse with. This question can be posed a variety of different ways, all of which - to an intelligent or at least societally informed individual - mean the same thing. How many people have you slept with? Had sex with? Engaged in vaginal intercourse with? How many people have you done the things in this article to? Have played with your penis/Penises have you played with? To most people, each of these questions would have the same answer, except for the last one, because I can play with a penis without it entering vagoo land. However, for me each one of the answers is two. I do believe that you can tell a bit about someone by the number that they give and their age. Given that the average American loses their virginity at 16, and other factors you can generally tell if they've been in a lot of long term relationships, if they hold sex as something other than just raw physical interaction, etc. etc.

You as a man, have a penis either inserted into a vagina, or you have a vagina placed around the penis... Someway or another your penis is in someone else. It can be a anus also, if you like it like that, or are having sex with a man...but I don't think that's super relevant. As a female you have a penis inserted into you, or you insert the penis, or...sit on it..or I don't know but there's a penis in you. I'm not sure what the definition of sex is in lesbian relationships, but again, not relevant. That is not a hard concept...For the sake of sanity, and such, we're definitely going to say that any molestation, rape, etc. does definitely and very much so NOT count in any way although by literal definition, it does. However, willingness is a part of it as much as anything else.

As such, I've gotten multiple answers for each of these questions when asking someone, and this leaves me confused. Perhaps now we've boiled it down and I have truth. It doesn't matter the number to me. In a way, yes, like I said you can sometimes tell about a person based on the number. However, there are people that have high numbers I wouldn't consider sluts and people with low numbers that aren't in long relationships all the time. It doesn't really make a difference. It's good to know for health purposes. I mean, if you sleep with someone who's slept with 10 people, you've slept with not only those 10 people but anyone and everyone that those 10 people slept with prior to and during their interactions with the person that you've slept with.... there are people who make charts and sort of things, but I think that would hurt my head to much to count. All I know is that there are people within my particular chart I'd rather not see there, and that's with the nonclear answer.

I just want truth. Straight up honesty. If you think you can't not tell your exgirlfriend you love her because that's a lie how can you not tell me how many people you've had sex with? How can you think it's okay to lie to someone and tell them the internet dropped or all the other lies you tell daily -- but it's not okay to lie when it's not even a lie.

Now that he's plastered what he believes to be the truth on the internet for all to see... I think I have an answer. However, based on all that is included, not sure if it's to the question I asked.

I thought that being with an alien would be fun and refreshing. I don't agree with a lot of norms and thought processes put down by society myself. I ponder, I reflect, I change and adapt and mold and squeeze and bend more than my brain can come to terms with sometimes. So I thought that someone completely different and removed would be better for me, more relatable in our differences than was society and mine. I think, if nothing else, I've learned that I am very very much so human. I am on plain and level with all these people I didn't think I was. I know that I have no more in common with aliens than I do with... I don't know... Hunchback Whales or something. I am intuitive, I can sometimes read people. I do not, and cannot understand the complex workings of an alien's mind, however, and I don't know if there's any point in trying anymore. With his Human English translator completely busted, and a translator for Human to Alien conversions not yet invented -- where to we stand? Can we stand? If I want an answer and cannot get one because the question isn't understood - and on such this most basic level of questioning -- how can anything we perceive to be, be? What is love, hate, discontent, passion, apathy, jealously like to an alien? Can they even feel such emotion? Do they even feel at all? Or is it just another high tech device they use to interpret humans and try to experiment with on their own to try and relate?

I'm slightly R rated.

Here it is... four o'clock in the morning, and I cannot sleep. It's not that I'm not tired, because I am -- very much so actually. The reason I fail to find that long longed for delivery by the sandman is that tonight I will go to bed completely unsatisfied, in the most physical sense of course. It is in this time where I am stressed to the point of exploding in bits of rage at everything that I need to be loved the most I think. Not held, or hugged, or reassured. Not bent over anything and ravaged. Loved. Completely and deeply, and in a way that only he could give me. I can't tell him this, that I feel somehow everything would be better if he would only have sex with me. That's not even it. I don't want sex, or to fuck or screw or whatever term you choose to describe this fornication. (By the way...fornication is one of my least favorite words in the English language, guilt anyone?) I want only to make love with the one that I love. Instead I lay with his naked body pressed up against mine, holding me close...and me, well, I guess there's no sugar coating needed -- I'm frustrated to the point of tears damn near. In this moment I realize that I would fail at writing erotica. I'm much to much of a hopeless romantic. It's not enough to talk about quivering members, throbbing cocks, and slippery wet pussy. (Another of my least favorite words.) I'd want the characters dancing in my mind to fall in love and have a happily ever after. I guess... you can have both, right?

Which kind of brings me to a point which I've brought up with my best friend, but not with him...directly at least. The disconnect. Our usual ... sexual adventures, if you will, are full of this passion. It's raw, and it's definitely carnal. It makes me feel empowered even if I'm being 'dominated' and it gives me this amazing rush during. When it's over, it feels like the world I was just in sort of melts and there he is beside me. Like...he's not the same man that was just with me. I'm dating two people, or something. It sounds insane I'm sure. However, it's like there's this super caring and loving individual who is silly and we can laugh and joke and such together with ease. Then there's this I'm going to bend you this way grab you here and fuck your brains out guy -- who I am a fan of, for sure and definitely. It's weird though, that somehow in my reflections of the world...these two, personalities, if you will - they aren't the same person. They are in the fact that they generally look the same and feel the same and taste the same. There's something more animalistic in him than normal, a throw back to a time when we lacked higher brain function. I don't know how many tabs he has open at that moment, but I don't care. All I want his him to flip me around grab my arms and fuck me harder, deeper, faster. To pull my hair and to pinch, bite, and suck everything else he possibly can. To make me writhe in pleasure to cry out in complete and utter physical ecstasy. And in writing that I note, perhaps there is a disconnect not within him, but within myself?

Regardless... tonight... I didn't want that. I was slightly frustrated from a less than fantastic, and definitely not par for the course performance of earlier, sure. I wouldn't be lying to say it sucked...Anyway. That's not what my concern was. Rather than sit there and..compare notes and test this and that. Rather than talk about anything, well... I just wanted the night to be...I don't know. The only time that I didn't have the disconnect I mentioned is when I asked him flat out to just love me. It was then that I felt my soul reaching out and ...dancing intertwined with his. Dumb, I know, but it was something so deep and real and...nearly spiritual as blasphemous as that may be.