I just had a guy who I just met on a cruise who live a country away from me get upset because I would not have sex with him because 1 he’s drunk and 2 I don’t know him well enough…. What is up with that crap? Please comment because I really want to know.
Okay, I have to do this simply because I am extremely depressed, have no internet access here, and needed a happy goat. Mostly because happy goats make everyone feel better. So I went in search of one and this is what I found. To my surprise not one happy goat but TWO.
To my surprise I also found one seriously pissed off alpaca.
Yes this is a redlined post. Not for kiddies in more ways than one. It is important to remember that there is an age of consent and anything breaking that age can be very very very harmful. That being said all activities should be safe, sane, consensual, and not harmful to you or others.
Most people who know me, have read my writing, or seen any of my lectures understand that I am open about enjoying all forms of sex, adult entertainment, and all things that feel wonderful. My motto has always been if it feels good then enjoy it while you can. There is too much in this life that is damaging or hurtful to not take advantage of something that feels wonderful.
Why am I stating this again when everyone knows my stand on all things pleasurable?
Simply because there are far too many people who judge and maybe after reading this they might be a bit less likely to condemn.
I had a conversation with some friends not long ago that turned from a lighthearted discussion about blow jobs to something much darker. Dark is nothing new to me and depending on my mood I might like very very dark things done to my body and doing very very dark things in return. There were several of us talking from a variety of different backgrounds with a variety of different ideals. We had both ends of the spectrum. One of the subjects was a time honored taboo in our culture and to respect my friends I won’t get detailed. The fact was they engaged but were unsettled by what they were doing. They were wracked by guilt.
It turned out that although they felt very strong feelings of love, desire, and attraction they were hurt by the fact that the feelings existed. How many of us can control what we feel for another person? Can we simply turn off attraction, sexual desire, love?
If you ask any of my ex-boyfriends, girlfriends, or even friends they will certainly tell you that I have one hell of a time with it, hence mistakes I have made by getting back together with them. After the statement was made one person left and another I asked to leave. No matter what I can’t deal with someone who judges a person without knowing the whole story. The two that left, left because sometimes society cannot tolerate a new concept even if it doesn’t harm anyone.
Society judges that harshly.
My point is this…
If two people want to engage in something that does not harm anyone else, doesn’t harm them, and they enjoy it what is the problem? I don’t see one. What two people do in their bedroom is really seriously none of my or anyone elses business. I might not choose it for me but then again I am not in their circumstance. If I were perhaps I would.
If you look at the taboo subjects we have when it comes to sex which ones should truly be immoral or illegal. Which ones really do harm? In the case of my friends and me on occasion it is not the act that hurts it is society’s reaction to the act. There are things about me that I keep private because people look at me different when they find out. Is it just me that thinks society shouldn’t have any say in what I do privately?
If you enjoy something then enjoy it. It can be very hard when society frowns on what you are doing but you do far more damage to yourself because of it when you deny something that you enjoy. The fact that something deviant is enjoyable doesn’t hurt you, caring how people judge you will. The guilt is what destroys you not the act. Guilt is a very very powerful construct but it is a construct. It is very rarely real. I know I feel guilty over things that are not my fault all of the time.
Feeling guilty about something that hurt someone else is a good thing. Feeling guilty about something that you enjoy that doesn’t hurt anyone or feeling guilty about feeling a certain way is useless. It is a waste of energy and emotion. Feeling guilty because society, the church, or other people tell you to is just plain silly. There is nothing about sexual desire that is safe, sane, consensual, and doesn’t hurt anyone else to feel guilty about.
As long as the desire, activity, or feeling doesn’t hurt you, hurt others, and you enjoy it then why not enjoy it without worrying about what other people think. You shouldn’t feel guilty about something that is natural for you just because someone else says you should feel guilty. Guilt can kill.
A hate has been rising up in me. It started as a slow burn that only twinged a little bit. You know the feeling when you see, do, or have done to you something that is only slightly unjust. It can be pried out of you with a kind word or happy thought. If it is not excised it continues to grow into a burning, a torturous heat with hard edge. It can still be cut from your heart by pure unadulterated lust and the wonderfully rough sex that comes with it. The kind of physical contact that leaves you sore and aching in the morning because you both have taken the hate out on each other and are better for it. This is the kind of fucking that most people only engage in once or twice and think that it is adventurous. The kind where the participants have no idea how close they’ve come to tearing each other apart.
It wandered into the territory of a bright flame as it grew. The hard edge to it becoming a bludgeon working further into my soul. Twisting into it like something wrong and painful. Although much harder to do because the edges of the heart are torn and bruised it can still be torn from the body, but only by using another as you are used in a visceral meeting of the two sexes. The kind of fucking that not many know and others think they’ve gone insane to engage in. The kind where you rip into the other person taking pain and pleasure instead of just giving it.
Then it turned to a roaring fire as it continued to grow. The edge to it is no longer hard but sharp as it shreds the heart piercing the soul before pulling out again only to ram back in. The only way to extinguish it is bloody and painful and kept quiet in the dark.
Finally the flames of the fire turned dark as it consumed me until it wasn’t a fire at all anymore just a burning hatred that echoes up from my eviscerated soul. A wealth of it pours off of me causing even the most oblivious of people to shy away. A darkness so deep and black that to rip it from me would tear apart what little is left. So entwined in what is me it would pull out my very soul. Still it burns deep inside leaving bladed teeth marks wherever it touches.
I have not been myself lately or rather I have been too much myself lately locked inside my own little world begging for escape. I look around at the people with me who don’t know me at all and slip back into an alternate reality that is more real to me than anything I can touch or hold but is infinitely more twisted that anything thought up on this plane.
In my world if something can think to do it, it has been done in technicolor brilliance that can only be accomplished in the mind. Things so twisted that they can only exist inside someone and they can only feast on the light and love in your soul. And feast they do. I am losing it.
I look at others, listen to them, and realize that no one has it worse or better than me because their mind might be doing it to them too. If I can hide it away from everyone but my readers they can hide it from me. Which sparks the thought, as I look at each person in turn, what horrible things is their mind doing to me as we talk. Are they similar things to what my mind is doing to them. Would they cringe away from me in horror if I told them or would they just smile at me knowingly.
Is that the same hunger or darkness I see behind their eyes? Is it the same blackness that is behind your eyes? I don’t know why you suddenly shift away only that you do. My mind instantly goes to the questions is the darkness showing, radiating off me like some twisted negative lighthouse. Or is it the blankness, the utter soulless look that is in my eyes. Does it make you think “she’s checked out?” Do you even notice? No one else does…
It once again is one of those nights where I remember what I used to be. The waves of sadness and regret crash over the chitinous bars of the living cage. A storm rages just outside those bars its icy rain a cold echo of what once was. I lay my hand against the bars feeling their insectile movement and softness. The clicking grows louder at my touch and the segments writhe and twitch.
I close my eyes desperate to clear the site of the living bars from my mind only to have my mind come up with a worse picture. Shaking my head I open them again to watch the worm like carapaces of the bars twist as they snap to life shuddering with new found freedom. Just beyond them something is shaking free of the desert sand. Rising and stretching towards the oil slick sky it struggles up from the mud with a preternatural shriek.
This is a quoted conversation from my ex who I am going to actually have to evict – I am WAY too nice.
It is important to note that I never once cried over this break up. I never once felt sorry that I no longer wanted a life with him. Most of all I was as nice as possible, let him live in my home, and tried to be his friend. He moved out for a long while lived with two other people and a condition of letting him come back and stay for a while so he wouldn’t be homeless was that he get a job (he hasn’t for 5 or 6 years now) and he leave when I asked him among other things.
I am redlining this for a reason. To all of my friends and family that may or may not be reading if you don’t like really strange and you don’t want to know things about me that are otherwise kept quiet. Come to think of it they should be kept quiet but I am going to put them here anyway. For anyone who reads this I have a question – is this too strange. Also I am on pretty much on a large amount of drugs that are supposed to make me sleep… Its quarter to four am here. Lot of good the sleep medication. All it did is make me thing about this and of course after the thought the crazy leaks out onto the page – well in this case the website.
Ok time for random strangeness.
I am a sexual creature by nature. I enjoy a vast variety of ways to play. Truth is despite my good catholic upbringing I love sex. Not just orgasm or the act itself but the sheer pleasure of being that close to someone. I will get there in a bit. First because this is rather odd – I enjoy watching gay men have sex specifically cumming and cumming hard. I don’t enjoy actually watching it. The part that I enjoy is hearing it. I am really not sure why. But it turns me on to no end which in the situation I am in is a very very bad thing. Not really bad just no viable release. Remember earlier when I said I love sex I meant to say I love sex with another person or a bunch of people. I love the type of sex where you have to count the feet and divide by two to see how many are participating. So I remain on edge and more than a little horny.
There is a bond that forms during sex. It isn’t permanent and may or may not exist after the act is completed. If that bond is there then good for you. If not move on, one night stands are not necessarily a bad thing and I have found myself saying goodbye right afterwards because I don’t want to see them in the morning… is this bad of me. Of course not I am a healthy adult with healthy desires or at least I hope they are.
As for me. I am searching for the one person who is willing to open their chest up for me and let me crawl in so that I never doubt that I am treasured. Not just loved but treasured. I want to lean up against his heart and feel it beating against my back while I count his ribs or the spots on his lungs to pass the time. I want to feel every bit of air stolen from me so that he can breath. I want to trace the lines of blood and bone with my fingers dipping it to it and hearing him gasp. I would be content in my cage made from flesh, bone, and muscle. Waiting. I want to be next to his heart so that I can run my hand along its ruby surface. Memorizing it.
A unique look at what wanders around in the darkness that is my mind. All of the slithering, slick things that twist and curl their way around important parts, beautiful memories. Corrupting them making them into something as dark and twisted as themselves. Making the pain seem real and the hope nothing but desperation.
The darkness caresses anything that is good and beautiful in my life, wrapping around it like a rapist. Moving against it, sliding, and slipping into the crevices. Its liquid cold pulsing, growing to fit and push against the boundaries of the memory before filling it up and stretching its walls. Soaking it in slippery black before pulling back out again leaving the beauty tainted and dripping with viscous liquid.