This morning, hubby showed me yet another litany of nude photos. He was masturbating while my hand caressed his inner thighs and prostate. It was one of that mild mornings of ours, as opposed to the wild ones, when I get in the play, making it more athletic, vivid and — you guessed — sounding. But today I chose to play only the assistant, the passive presence, the living object of his pleasure — because he finished on my navel while I was “touching” myself, or pretending to…
What stuck me was a comment below one of those tumblr images. It said “Follow your instincts.” Well, yes, I agree. Often I did follow my instincts to make a good deal or give a good advice, and this logic even landed me in an excellent marriage!
What’s an instinct then?
An innate, typically fixed pattern of behavior in animals in response to certain stimuli: “predatory instincts.”
A natural or intuitive way of acting or thinking: “rely on your instincts.”
A balanced life is all about measure, or keeping up with measures, in any possible way. If we roughly consider exploring and mimicking the animal kingdom, then we may find ourselves in a typical situation like this one: male sniffs female – finds yummy; female sniffs make back — well, whatever; male mates female, then goes, possibly to come around and mate again, depends; female has puppies; male, not interested in all this mess, moves away looking for another female to mate. Pure animal instinct! If that suits the human male, I don’t know. But I’m very sure that mere instincts are THE total nightmare for a human female.
I’m feeding on my man’s affection, attention, love, romancing, little (or not so little) follies, jokes and ideas, and money. We share the same ideals and we want to be where the other is. We can’t live apart! We raise our offspring to live a faithful and separate life, to learn what value is and how to produce it, to discern true lies and walk away from them, to search for our Creator. All in all, we’re not mere animals.
But how about the cougar bunny double animalistic endearment that hubby labels me with? When I say that we’re not “mere” animals, that means that we are MORE than JUST animals. And, as it turns out, the animal in my hubby is possessed by the shy and submissive bunny in me, but also attracted by the firm cougar fireworks that hit me every now and then. I may blame the onset of “cougarism” on him, if I wish. But why should I? A cougar, with a refined predatory instinct, can face her insecurities and better deal with them.
As much as we’re torn by pure instincts, at one point we consume them — by orgasm (in mating) or by satiety (in eating) — and then we either return to sit behind our blank animal screen or we climb back to our Ivory Towers. Oh, by the way, gotta cut some lilies from the garden, put them in a basket and go early to the church, for decorating. Bye!