seoulbrotherno1
Apr 26th, 2006, 11:56 AM
For some reason, my sex life seems to be irrevocably linked to cooking.
My first sexual experience revolved around a rather elaborate meal. I told my girlfriend at the time that we were going to an expensive restaurant so I made her get dressed up. I picked her up at her place and showed up in a suit. We drove toward "the restaurant" and I told her that I needed to pick something up at a friend's place. The friend was elsewhere, and once we got inside there was an impressive spread waiting for us. There was a table, candlelight, flowers and a wine glass. I had prepared most of the food earlier in the day, so it was no trouble for me to put on the finishing touches. We had fresh fetticini (not the dried stuff), a cream sauce (hella fattening, but hella good!), shrimp, asparagus (I was still a sexual amatuer at the time -I didn't know!), and an ornate flambe for desert. Our fantastic meal was followed by a lot of awkward fumbling on the floor of my buddy's place, but they are all good memories.
Afterwards, all of my relationships seemed to combine excessive eating and excessive sex. Interestingly enough, the lines between eating and sex were never blurred. There was no food-play or even food-foreplay going on in the kitchen or bedroom. Eating was always about eating, and sex was always about sex. It seemed like mixing the two would somehow diminish the other.
In my next relationship, I was more sexually experienced than my partner, and this was also reflected in the kitchen as well -I was the one cooking all the time. We ate well and had lots of sex and life was good. Afterwards she was overcome by an incredible amount of guilt because of our amorous habits, however, she didn't have a shred of regret about the meals we ate together!
The following woman I met was sexually experienced and assertive. She was also formidable in the kitchen. She introduced me to the pleasures of Pho, Vietnamese cuisine and even some Mexican food. We had a long-distance relationship, so the meals she would prepare often bordered on the elaborate: seared ahi steaks with a cream herb sauce, chicken in tomatilo sauce, oysters with a spicy, salty salsa, and big vats of jie (Vietnamese tapioca desserts with sweet potato, coconut milk, and all other kinds of good stuff!)
My longest relationship wasn't even a true romantic relationship -we just fucked and ate. But the food and the sex were both off the hook. We practically co-habitated for about a year, and our food habits were very domestic. There was lots of simple home cooking (and bodily fluids) that passed between us. During the summer we both had our lunch breaks at the same time and we would somehow manage to cook, eat, and have sex all within an hour! (The dishes would have to wait!) Evenings were reserved for more elaborate meals (we had this great Weber grill) as well as a more relaxed pace for our sex life. Even if there was no food-sex play going on between us, grilled vegetables have an unshakeable association with summer, crickets, fireflies, slow sex, and languid living.
Alas, these days I have no one to share my meals with. The beauty of my sex life has been replaced with the vulgarities of porn, and for the longest time I lost interest in cooking. I'd just brew up a batch of food to last me all week during the weekends and I had little motivation to be in the kitchen. Meals consisted of prepared foods, or even sometimes a quick meal-replacement shake, and my dating life was just as bland.
However, these days, I find myself in the kitchen more and I find myself more enthusiastic about cooking. I have decided to spend some time exploring and experimenting with Indian cuisine (as much as you can in Corea). Perhaps these positive changes are encouraging sign of what is to come next?
Feel free to place any sex-food / food-sex ramblings or musing here.
sb1
My first sexual experience revolved around a rather elaborate meal. I told my girlfriend at the time that we were going to an expensive restaurant so I made her get dressed up. I picked her up at her place and showed up in a suit. We drove toward "the restaurant" and I told her that I needed to pick something up at a friend's place. The friend was elsewhere, and once we got inside there was an impressive spread waiting for us. There was a table, candlelight, flowers and a wine glass. I had prepared most of the food earlier in the day, so it was no trouble for me to put on the finishing touches. We had fresh fetticini (not the dried stuff), a cream sauce (hella fattening, but hella good!), shrimp, asparagus (I was still a sexual amatuer at the time -I didn't know!), and an ornate flambe for desert. Our fantastic meal was followed by a lot of awkward fumbling on the floor of my buddy's place, but they are all good memories.
Afterwards, all of my relationships seemed to combine excessive eating and excessive sex. Interestingly enough, the lines between eating and sex were never blurred. There was no food-play or even food-foreplay going on in the kitchen or bedroom. Eating was always about eating, and sex was always about sex. It seemed like mixing the two would somehow diminish the other.
In my next relationship, I was more sexually experienced than my partner, and this was also reflected in the kitchen as well -I was the one cooking all the time. We ate well and had lots of sex and life was good. Afterwards she was overcome by an incredible amount of guilt because of our amorous habits, however, she didn't have a shred of regret about the meals we ate together!
The following woman I met was sexually experienced and assertive. She was also formidable in the kitchen. She introduced me to the pleasures of Pho, Vietnamese cuisine and even some Mexican food. We had a long-distance relationship, so the meals she would prepare often bordered on the elaborate: seared ahi steaks with a cream herb sauce, chicken in tomatilo sauce, oysters with a spicy, salty salsa, and big vats of jie (Vietnamese tapioca desserts with sweet potato, coconut milk, and all other kinds of good stuff!)
My longest relationship wasn't even a true romantic relationship -we just fucked and ate. But the food and the sex were both off the hook. We practically co-habitated for about a year, and our food habits were very domestic. There was lots of simple home cooking (and bodily fluids) that passed between us. During the summer we both had our lunch breaks at the same time and we would somehow manage to cook, eat, and have sex all within an hour! (The dishes would have to wait!) Evenings were reserved for more elaborate meals (we had this great Weber grill) as well as a more relaxed pace for our sex life. Even if there was no food-sex play going on between us, grilled vegetables have an unshakeable association with summer, crickets, fireflies, slow sex, and languid living.
Alas, these days I have no one to share my meals with. The beauty of my sex life has been replaced with the vulgarities of porn, and for the longest time I lost interest in cooking. I'd just brew up a batch of food to last me all week during the weekends and I had little motivation to be in the kitchen. Meals consisted of prepared foods, or even sometimes a quick meal-replacement shake, and my dating life was just as bland.
However, these days, I find myself in the kitchen more and I find myself more enthusiastic about cooking. I have decided to spend some time exploring and experimenting with Indian cuisine (as much as you can in Corea). Perhaps these positive changes are encouraging sign of what is to come next?
Feel free to place any sex-food / food-sex ramblings or musing here.
sb1