I Done Sprung, Baby

I’m a sexually peaking 32-year-old woman who’s just been hit with her first full dose of spring fever. I need sex, and I want it now.
Tonight I hung out with my first sex blogger for some cool conversation, some Guinness, a stroll, and a bus ride. A nice night. I noticed then as we wandered to the waterfront that it was warmer than I’d have expected. Seasonal. Nice. A little damp, a little chilly, but there it was. Warmer than it oughta be, fresher than dawn on a mountain. A spring night. The first real one.
We hit the bus, he got off at his stop for the hotel, and I carried on my merry way. Two folks quickly sat down opposite me, in a portion of the bus where the aisle expanse is at its narrowest. They were inches from my knees and the sexual energy was just incredible. Wow. You could tell they were on the verge, and they’ve been lodged on that precipice for some time. They’ve clearly known each other for a little, and they’ve connected on a different level. Now, it’s averted gazes, bashful smiles, and too much self-touching.
(You know what I mean, you smooth out your jeans, adjust a pocket, straighten your sleeve – but it’s really just nervous tension, and you know it. These two were popping.)
She was this geeky-chic alt-edge white girlie with these naughty librarian specs, a beret, tapered velvet pants that snaked down her mile-high legs. She used to be a redhead, partially dyed black. In her lap, a wood-mounted freshly sculpted clay statuette (yet to be baked) of a nubile goddess. Her smile was that of a sexy affected intellectual.
Hell, I wanted her.
He was this sexy alternative Middle Eastern guy with chiseled features, smoky eyes, this birthmark on his forehead that looked like a smudge of ash, and this oh-so-perfect little soulpatch (mm) under his tender full lips. His jeans were loose in all the right places, but snug in the better ones. He had a nervous twitch in his left leg and kept bouncing his knee an inch or two up in a fidgety manner that said he really didn’t want to be looking at the floor as she spoke about whatever it was that was moving her then, but would rather be on the floor on top of her.
Hell, I wanted him.
Yet there was this great connection on the level of friends. These shy recognitions exchanged in glances, furtive moments of silence and awkward chuckles. So fucking sexy, so hot.
They each went home alone, to my surprise. He disembarked at my stop, and I hung back to watch those sweet half-moon cheeks swaggering up the drag. “Hate to see you leave, love to watch you go.”
And then I realized it. I’m just full of lust, morning, noon, and night these days. I find when I’m able to shut it off for a few hours for work or platonic socializing or whatever, whammo. Girl’s back to raging. God damned peaking.

The sexual peak is the age at which your frequency of sexual arousal reaches an all-time high. It has nothing to do with skill or frequency of being laid. It’s hormones ripening. Men, 16-18, women, 32-35. I’m 32. Wham. I’m on, 24-7. Bulges in jeans on the street are targeted in my sights from a two-block distance. I watch them approach. The shifting side-to-side. I watch asses, always. Shoulders, nice broad and strong ones. I feel dysfunctional. I’m a voyeur every waking moment. Raging. Sigh.

But it was also at that moment that it hit me: It’s spring.
I began to pass nearly sprung apple blossoms, exposed fluffy cherry blossoms. I smelled honeysuckle. I walked my 10 blocks home with my suede jacket dangling open and only my embroidered cotton shirt protecting me. Blissful. Stars glimmering overhead. That freshness that tells you winter’s on the outs. I breathed deeply. Stopped to stare at the stars, smell the air. Shuffled my feet in a lazy amble on home, savouring the walk as long as I could. I even paused to hang in the school playground. Leaning back on the swing, checking the stars.
God, I love the laziness of spring. The easy pace, the affable air. Mm. A very, very happy Steff.
And now, I want sex even more. Actually, no, you know what I want tonight? Intimacy.
The casual heat of just knowing someone well enough to toy endlessly with their bits and pieces as you lie stretched out, soaking in a classic movie or an intelligent foreign flick, sipping wine, candles flickering, naked, skin-on-skin, a blanket draped loosely over you both, a breast hanging out, toes protruding, legs interlocked, occasionally emitting single lines of commentary to each other, getting only a nibble or a bite in response. Just an easy night in.
That’s what I want. That says spring to me. Spring is seasonal foreplay. It’s suggestive of the heat to come. A delicate tease meant to stoke you and ready you for all to come. It’s so fitting, doing prolonged tease and toy sessions, just getting intimate with all they have to offer. Yep. Spring.
Then there’s outdoor sex, the sport of the season… fucking on the grass near the beach, but that’s another story for another time. Yes, do remind me to tackle the subject of public sex sometime. Ahh, how do I love it. Let me count the ways. Oh, my. Yes, that is also what this season says to me. “Get out and play.” Just dew it, baby.
So, my wish to you all: A fine and fair spring, with plenty of fun fucking and frolicking of all kinds. God knows I’ve got one on order. Let’s hope the season delivers.

14 thoughts on “I Done Sprung, Baby

  1. scribe called steff

    Heh. Yay! WOO!

    Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. I dig it. I just want to get me a good solid regular outlet for “the needs.” So far, the men I’ve been meeting aren’t up to stuff for me, so the hunt continues, and thus the irregular sex.

    Ah, well. Soon. 🙂

    (Oh, and now they’re calling for snow Sunday morning. The temperature has dropped since my blissful walk home. The fun of living on the Pacific ocean.)

  2. Albion

    Pacific Coast? You want to live where I do…or rather you don’t. We’ll be lucky if we get spring by the end of May…and who the hell needs it to get warm when there’s scenes like this painted to keep me going! I’ve got to stop reading your blog for a while…I’m supposed to be writing and now I’m hot hot hot even though we have snow and draughts under the door…still, I remember blue skies and snow and a faux fur coat from a charity shop…

    …men not up to your needs? Perhaps it’s simply that you need a different one to suit your mood and your need at the time. Some guys find it hard (heh) to be tender one time and animal the next – sometimes even in the same night. Guilty as charged – though thankfully not all the time…

    …peak away, baby girl*, and watch the men melt around you! Then just pick up the one you want and crack the ice out of the freezer…



    (er…oops…hope you’re not offended…not demeaning, just something I say…)

  3. Anonymous

    Oh, I know you’re not complaining about the peaking, just the lack of suitable partners. Same problem here. Most of the time.

    But never give up hope. This past Thursday, I was on the receiving end of the first oral I’ve had in about 5 years. Hey. Yay! And WOO! indeed.

    We’ve had over 100 cms of snow over the last week or so. That’s the fun of living on the Atlantic ocean!


  4. Albion


    You said something back there that got past me until just now…


    You have the Pacific Ocean.

    You have spring in April.

    You have Guinness…

    …and beautiful green-eyed ladies that love to kiss and talk dirty…

    What the hell is wrong with your Guys? Do they put something in the water? ;-/

  5. Anonymous

    We’re a little later with Spring but we have ladies with green eyes who love to kiss and talk dirty. And we have Guinness… and yet…


  6. scribe called steff

    I’m getting action… I get probably enough or too much interest from guys, but the problem is, they’re not the ones I’m interested in–

    And I don’t like to settle. So, I just don’t really bother much, and I’m fine with that, most days.

    Actually, I’m expecting a care package with, oh, three, four, five new battery-powered sex toys to arrive any day now, and THEN I shall be a little more equipped to manage solo. 🙂

  7. April

    Ah…peaking. I’m feeling it over here, too, girl. I’ve always been one ready to jump in the sack but since I hit 32 two years ago…oh, my.

    It gets very frustrating at times as I have no one to share this peak with. But a little self-love tides me over for a bit. (Okay…a LOT of self-love.)

    Nothing like sharing it with a man who enjoys it, though.

  8. MadCoyote

    There’s lots of great guys in Vancouver- it’s just that we only work there, and actually live over here in Burnaby.

    As for the whole age-based “sexual peak” thing- I think that sucks, ’cause it means I missed out altogether (well, at least in terms of having another person in the room). The thing is I agree with D.- 18 years (oh God, now that’s depressing) later, and I still crave it like a madman (intimacy and all). Maybe it is a hormonal thing, but to me, it’s all in the mind.

    Now hopefully it’s also in the mind (and hormones) of the 33 year old I have a date with this Friday…(who coincidentally, also has green eyes…)

  9. Albion

    Yes, there are great guys everywhere – even here in little old Blighty!

    I don’t cast apertions…I know the girls here would say exactly the same things…and it would be well justified…

    but now here’s something odd…

    …I’d like to consider myself a thoughtful, intuitive, sensitive and literary kind of guy…let me know f you think differently (LOL!)…and I have wide experience of girls that are really great and fun and all that kind of thing and VERY sexy too…but they seem to want us sensitive guys as friends and find males with ameobic IQ’s to get laid with…

    …is this just my experience?…

    …is there something to the macho male continuation of the species thing?…

    …is it that sensitive types lack confidence and so don’t make the moves that let a girl know he’s interested?…

    I feel a blog coming on…

    Hey, Steff, you really get us going!

  10. madcoyote

    Now Albion has a good question there…when a woman says she wants a “sensitive” man, what exactly does she mean? What do women define as “sensitive” in terms of a desirable man?

  11. scribe called steff

    I’ll tell you what, I’ve been stumped what to write today. There’s a couple things I’m working on, but due to their personal nature, I’m having a hard time getting past the bullshit and into what counts.

    Instead of beating the hell out of myself on that count, I’ll tackle your question and perhaps something to do with tears you might remember from earlier.

    It’s an important question and one I think a lot of men are confused about.

    Yeah. That sort of slipped past me in Albion’s email, so thanks for highlighting it.

    I can’t answer for all womenkind, though, but I can answer for me, and I shall.

  12. FTN

    Hmm… very interesting. I wrote a post a week or two ago about the “myth of sex-crazed women in their 30s.” From what I’ve read, I found that there is no new rush of hormones in women 32-35. I always read that women’s “sexual peak” age is just a guess, and is a mixture of societal factors including maturity and self-confidence.

    Did you actually find a study or something about the biological/chemical factors at that age? I’m just curious since I had so recently written about it.

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