The Future of Sex

I went to a lecture recently about the future of sex now that we have sex robots and sex dolls rapidly establishing themselves as citizens in society. It posed the contentious question of what will become of our sexual and social selves? At the same time, there was a request for submissions from an online news sources that was looking for writings of fiction around this very topic.

All this stimulation got my juices flowing and this is what poured out.

For your eyes only x

I was born into this world some eons ago or was it some into the future – it is now so very hard to tell.

A world where we are trained and moulded into the embodiment of Sex.

It begins when we are very young, too young to realise the journey we are about to embark on and perhaps that is for the best.  The only qualities sought are curiosity, precociousness and a subtle compliance, though all in digestible doses. Bonus qualities I exhibited were being highly fluid – not just in terms of gender identification but also, agelessness, timelessness and a willingness to dissolve one character for the next without a second thought.  This made things easy and eventful.

I had over the years, refined my skills to become known as the ‘Pleasure Palace’ in which erotic fantasies could be explored but with the rigid demands that in our sessions, nothing was withheld, no untruths told or corners unexplored.  I demanded absolute nakedness!  There were many other queens who had their own style, ranging from whipped vanilla to bloody debauchery which I found obligatory, deeply dull and dangerous to our humanity respectively and so at a point I deviated away from the pack and eventually even from the shores of this fine city. 

The place of my birth had become like another existence which I had no recollection of and so this place was both my home and my cage.  This Sensual City on the sea of eternity with her ancient imposing and beautiful structures, street sculptures each a hewn masterpiece from the kinkiest of artisans and a soft glowing light touching both land and infinity.  The snaking canals weaved alongside the pheromone drenched streets and alleyways, frequented by only those with the most passionate carnal tastes, deepest pockets and curious devotion to the goddesses of sex.  This place was composed of the universe itself. 

There was not a place in which sex was not found.  Upon landing into our realm, one was greeted with the smoothest of flesh, plump ripeness of ass and breast, dripping sweet spots and bathed in the glow of delight.  And these were simply the ushers.  Meandering the cobbled slick streets, the sound and smell of sex was a feast for the senses, triggering the primal urges, urging those onto the goddesses of pleasure.  Each boudoir a reflection of the nymph herself and co-created by those lucky enough to have the right mix of charm, skill, coin and shamelessness to be accepted into her den.  Suites ranged from opulent chambers filled with the most expensive and exotic items available throughout all time for those looking to luxuriate and become intoxicated with pleasure while others were cold hard dens of despair which could contain and crush a cruel callous caller to dust, which would later be swept out onto the street where it belonged.  The options were endless, limited only by the imaginations of goddess and devotee.

We were all suspended in time and space, this floating city of delight hovering in the celestial realms which allowed all manner of creation to take place.

My creations were of the more controlled variety.  My devotees consisted of those who had everything, got everything, wanted everything and were not used to being told no.  I found the brutality of some of my sisters doing similar work, a little unrefined, and so I trod the line between sweetness, compliance and absolute restraint all wrapped up in a tall, slim, elegant and culturally appropriate package.  All was well on the outside but come into my suite and the true nature of my work would strip men bear and deprive them of the very things they came for.  And in this, they found peace.


I can’t say when it happened exactly, but it seemed to be carried on the waves of the neuro-media which at first flooded our reality through tv’s, billboards, radios, newspapers and social media streams offered which moulded our minds and desires through images, content and beliefs.  These eventually became virtual realities which were cerebrally inhabited through devices and instruments of illusion which became as real to our brains and nervous systems as the analogue life we had known for centuries past.  Yet the subtly seeping, creeping losses to our humanity were not initially seen, as we were distracted with the hyper real intensity of our brains synapsing on symphonies orchestrated by syndicated corporations.  Slowly we became detached, disconnected, isolated and emotionally numb to what was really real, how much of what mattered was matter and like junkies, longed only for our next surreal dose of a jacked-up reality.

Yet, those conductors within the corporations, sold off these insights, instruments and instructions on how to wield the waves of a wayward humanity, to the highest bidders and soon we were simply at their bots.  Being assaulted with numbness, dumbness and distractions which kept us compliant and with needs and natures which were no longer our own.  Our urges, impulses, quirks, kinks and even the gimps under our stairs, had been malformed and manipulated to perform as monkeys for their malicious intent.

My previously perverse poster boys for pleasure had become dull thugs, bullish in their manner and matter.  Where once eroticism, tease, evocative language, fine textiles, sensual delights and slow burn passionate explosions were devoured with reverence now there was just a blind rabid fucking.  Fucking in the face, in the ass, in the cunt, in the eye, with more violence, depravity and disrespect for women, younger women, children, infants, the elderly, the homeless, the insane, animals, and the dead and finally all the above sacrificed to death in the name of pleasure.

They wanted more of everything but with an almost robotic cadence. A dead drone in their eyes revealed what had been taken and their voracious quest simply a desire to satiate this longing.  These urges had been imposed upon them and they were simply playing their part.

One night after the green fairy had landed into the party of the century, a grotesque fantasy we now called reality was played out and I knew I had to go.  My mind still convulses with that moment and the echoes of dissent just prior.  In one corner, people were teasing this beautiful powerful beast.  A prized stallion, erect, riled snorting and dripping with anticipated delight while in the darker shadows beyond, the child’s skin, now bloodied, welted and raw from the thrashings which overcame her futile resistance.  This world of sex, which I had so highly valued, prized and first encountered as high culture, had become baseless depravity.  As both the child and horse lay lifeless after having been slain at their precise moment of enforced mutual climax, whatever life that was left in these onlookers seeking the crème of cruelty, they were now copulating in the life juices of these sacrifices.  I could see those involved were in some universe of pleasure, but I was not.  My time was finished and so as I stood on the edge of the city, feeling the texture of memories at my back with the cool crisp fear of the future on my face – I jumped. 

I jumped into space and fell through infinity for what felt like an eternity until suddenly I was somewhere.

This somewhere was much older from the place I had come and yet what I found was a radical renaissance of existence which slowly seeped into my inner fabric.  I don’t know if I fell up or down or into the past or the future but with substance came a new chapter.  Gone were the gilded glamorous groves of a city built for refined sensuality and now I was in a place which assaulted my senses.  The sounds of horns, calls to prayer, bustling trade; the atmosphere plump with smog, a cacophony of scent and decay and unending streams of broken and bent bodies cloaked in rags walking along earthen paths littered with trash and death.

So foreign and scared, I sheltered myself in the confines of a room I had acquired from a previous patron who provided me a lavish landing pad.  Yet, the view outside my window was Armageddon.  I knew I was out of my depth and dead to my old self.  For a brief moment, fear claimed my heart, and I wondered if I had made a mistake.  I didn’t belong here, but I knew for certain I didn’t belong there anymore either….

I was who I was, but I had seen too much, lost too much and felt too much.  But how does a seeker of sexuality, used to finery within an incubated reality make her way in new unfamiliar, and brutal lands?  She blends, bends and moulds her way to find her place and her people.

I tried to copy what was ‘done’, though my comportment exposed my foreign awkwardness. I didn’t speak the language or understand the rituals or rhythms of life.  As a result, I decided to move out into the country, seeking a simple, quiet life – where my presence wouldn’t disturb others or attract so much attention.  This place in the middle of nowhere was infused with ancient tribal traditions, customs honouring nature and deep goodness pouring from every smile and glint within endlessly wise eyes.  Here I was clearly different – I couldn’t try or pretend to fit in and so they simply made space and let me live amongst them – learning, listening and loving with them through life.

This place seemed to be sex less with no overt expressions of love, passion or desire.  And yet, the women from a very young age were like beautifully fashioned wildflowers, in the harshest of rugged lands.  Where they sourced their colours, delicate fabrics, gilded embroidery and gem laden jewels was an absolute mystery and yet everyday life was a celebration of their beautiful femininity.  The mundane actions of life addressed to with the modesty of their femininity shrouded yet simultaneously adorned, exposed this cultures, deep roots towards beauty, eroticism and sensuality.  A revelation dawned that feminine beauty can be heightened with coverings and layers and requires, a nuanced attention to perceive the lilt of a shoulder, the tilt of a hip, the delicate placement of a foot suddenly exposed from behind voluminous plumage of silk and the caress of plait on the nape of a neck.

This beauty was in stark contrast to the men who seemed hard, privileged and while appreciative of the beauty around them never overtly revered or sought it out.  They were dark in skin and nature, hair course, wild and tumbled with the efforts of life.  An air of brutality and entitlement filled these groups when amassed which seemed to dismiss the opulence and effort offered by their opposites.  They were too casual, too careless and a little callous in their daily exchanges with each other to think that as lovers they would be able to appropriately worship these divine consorts sitting so delicately next to them.

Yet, I knew this wasn’t the whole story.  Being a woman, it was difficult to gain insight or access to a man’s world and so I was limited only to what I could see and was told.  I heard that this culture had deep roots of and reverence for sexuality, which had previously been governed by women, but in daily life this was hidden.  So how could I access it?  How could this lover of sex find her place and explore herself within this new place in which I was so foreign?

Slowly but surely, I adorned myself in the garb of daily life.  The textures of practical matters draping my frame while the undergarments of my sexuality remained. This sex worker had become unemployed and unenjoyed, and so I took up the local life of washing, cooking, cleaning, gardening and the requirements to survive in such an essential place.  Through this simplicity, and meeting a different version of me, I found myself becoming naked and deeply exposed.  Not in the physical sense, but it was like my self was shedding to what was only essential and I felt seen for the first time in my existence. I moved through life, not as a role but as a whole person.  Integrated and present.  I found nature and the cycles of life and death to be achingly evocative.  The sun pricking my skin with his early light, the birds flooding my ears with sounds of celebration and the sweet scents carried on the waves of life which contained flowers, fragrances and food deeply nourished my wounds. 

As I was moving through life more myself and with nothing to hide, in walked in a new kind of sex.  At first, I didn’t recognise it, while handsome, powerful and contained, he had a sweetness, innocence and childlike quality that I had never seen before.  I had always been attracted to self-assured, dominant, complex and selfish men and so I simply assigned him to dear friendship.  But over time, his light, laughter and languid attention which would roll around my every expression, nuance and behaviour was nectar to my soul and I started to crave more.

From overt sexuality in which I was in control and presumed competent, suddenly I was like a child, vulnerable, hopeful and unsure with a simple desire to see him so he could see me. He didn’t seem to notice the things I had been traded and celebrated for – my body, my skills or my performance.  What was so radical, is that he just noticed me.  The way I became a child around children and his wonder at this capacity. The way I fiercely defended those that needed help and his celebration at my ruthless power.  He simply viewed my settling with those that couldn’t stand, and he stood in appreciation. And how he noticed as I placed each foot tenderly on the bedrock of sacred places – caressing and offering each reverent piece of me in devotion.  These aspects of me that are so subtle they go unnoticed, often even to myself, were revealed under his tender gaze.

As a result, my eyes became beggars.  I ached to catch a glimpse of him and his beauty.  His smile or the delightful expressions of his joy.  Every moment I started to think of him – drinking in that particular way he hid his smile, or his carefree wildness when he thought no one was looking, his command of a moment when it required, along with his tender compassion in suffering.  And it was in the formations of the quiet inner rivers, streaming my thoughts to him, that I was giving myself to him without ever realizing it.  With every moment, thought and hope, I was merging into him and soon there was nothing left of the person I had been but only the person I always was.  A new kind of sex was born.  One which is beyond time, space and matter. 

Sex moved from being a physical experience to a psychic one.

Yet, in daily life I avoided him, resisted him and feared what this would lead to.  So, he came in my sleep to tell me to give up my resistance, that there was nothing wrong with my unreserved desire for him within a very restrained culture.  I hesitated but he asked me to sit and told me that he felt the same and that it was perfect.  We sat, and I slowly slid my head onto his beautiful shoulder and started to bleed into him.  Form dissolved as we touched until we were rolling through cellular landscapes without boundary or form.  We melted into a bed and a single strand of hair fell from his head.  I picked it up and saw the world contained within it – I began making love to this infinite piece of him. He caught my devotion and I was afraid that I was too much or would scare him, but he cupped my head in his hands, looking at me in awe, bewilderment and love for my willingness to love all of him so fully. 

It was in that moment that we became one – my body was orgasming due to my soul being ignited by this man.  Every layer of my being was climaxing and expressing itself fully by being under the alchemical union with the universe. We exploded into a fundamental eternity on the waves of this sex – creating life itself.   I don’t know if I had a body, and if my breasts were held and nibbled as I so liked or if I was able to worship a glorious cock he may or may not have had.  What we were doing, feeling and exploring was beyond this – the body, the senses, the cells and even the self.

I woke and returned to the tasks of daily life and yet when he would draw near, my body would recall our union and begin its celebration.  I would have to run and hide as the symptoms of sex were simply seen by all.  He wanted nothing, demanded nothing, accepted and celebrated everything and we simply enjoyed each other’s existence.  Desired to love the other through the journey to fullness and elevate our self-perceptions hampered by the past and contained within the confines of matter.

We were home, seen and loved.  A feeling of belonging and complete fullness.

I had gone from a hi-fi digital existence to a lo-fi analogue one and never imagined that this is where I would find what I had been on a quest for my whole life.  Beyond the past and the future to be fully present with this sublime man before me, exploring this psychic sexual realm whose essence was divine delight.  We didn’t need tricks, props, instruments, apparatus, roles, skills or technique.  All that seemed so distracting and futile now.  I had been trained to believe that sex was a physical thing, that exposed or connected us to our inner desires, longings and yearning for fullness.

I had spent my life seeking the art of sex and yet realised in that moment, that the evolution and future of sex is returning to Love.  It has always, only ever been about Love.

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