Let's Get Loud

I vaguely remember JLo having a song of that same title, and my sister and her friends made up a dance to it when we were younger. I could never get the choreography down but I loved the song. It wasn't until later in life when my brain was a little more developed that I realized the sexual undertones that the entire song carried. I love to orgasm. Who doesn't? It's maybe the most satisfying feeling in the world. That and Kilwin's salted caramel ice cream. And if you can have both at the same time I think your universe might explode into a thousand pieces of gold glitter and sunshine and rainbows and unicorns. And because I love to orgasm, I tend to be a little loud sometimes. Okay, I'll admit it, a lot loud. There's something quite freeing about letting go like that. Your body is in the apex of ecstasy, and if you feel like you have to control your vocal level, you aren't fulling allowing yourself to give in to the bliss of the orgasm. I totally understand having to keep quiet if there are other people in the house and you want to be respectful of them, but if you have the opportunity to do it you might as well go for it. The best place for this to happen is in hotel rooms.

Please don't think that hotel sex is a regular thing for me. Okay, it kind of is, but that's just because I travel a lot. And there's something liberating-- and quite intriguing-- about letting your neighbours in on your fun time. It's also always nice to see them in the elevator the next morning and know that they're jealous. Yes I have ego issues, so what. I had wild hotel sex a few weeks ago, and it was nice to know that everyone on our floor was melting with envy. It's also one of the unspoken agreements how no one would ever dare complain in a hotel setting because, well, that's partially what hotels are for. It's an entirely different story if you have normal neighbours and/or a roommate. It's endearing over a weekend-- it's not fun to wake up to your roommate having a raging orgasm in the living room every other night. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for people having a good time, but come on. My beauty rest is a little more important than you screaming "Yes, Daddy!" at full volume. Also, maybe go see a therapist. Anyone who calls their partner Daddy clearly needs some psych help.

I've mastered the art of pillow stifling. I know it sounds weird and if it's after a night of going out you're going to cover the pillowcase in smeared makeup, but there's also a thrill of having to keep quiet because you don't want to get caught. I'm loud. I like to be loud. It's exhilarating. But everything in moderation people. No one wants the cops to show up because your neighbours think you're being tortured with a red hot poker. Not that that has ever happened to me.

xx,

Gemma