Just…what…uh…no idea

I’m in a position now where I want so much to be holding in my arms the ones that I love. But I know that is either a distant future or a impossibility and I have to deal with that.

In a way it’s like a breakup but without the constant questioning and self recriminations. In this case I know the reasons. I just lament them.

Right now, I’m sad often and I don’t want to be but I also don’t know how to stop it my self.

I’ve been incredibly lucky to meet extraordinary people through my blog and though some hurt me, I still feel incredibly fortunate to have the chance to be with people who meet my mind first rather than the crucible of a dating site or a munch or something. Because, I’m not great at those.

Let’s be clear. I’m weird. I have odd notions and hobbies. I have strange views and see things differently. What the majority find interesting, I find mostly a nuisance. I point this out, not to set myself apart, but to demonstrate that I feel as if I’m a outsider.

When you add in BDSM and a preference for strong submissives, I find I’ve narrowed my interests perhaps too narrowly.

I’d love to say that such a narrow focus means that I find my way clear but really I’m all a muddle.

I scare people away because I’m intense and always seek clarity. Not because I am meek but because I can have a effect where I bowl someone over.
But then I just melt if someone says, “Yes, Sir,” and means it.

I don’t know where forward is. Or if I need to heal first. Or if I just need someone I love to look me in the eyes and say “Yes, I choose you” and mean it down to their bones.

Mind/Heart

I lead with my heart where those I love are concerned. My mind constructs the path but my heart determines it.

For those who aren’t in my heart, I lead with my mind. My mind sets the course and my heart determines how far I am willing to go.

This is my problem with personality tests. Because my actions and choices are relative to both the situation and the people involved. And is informed by the possible outcomes, the benefits and detriments, and the well-being of those involved. Always looking to safeguard those in my heart and be truthful to my self.

I am looking for the correct action. The neccesary step. For myself and for those in my care.

I test as INTJ but depending on questions, also INTP. Am I either of those or some 3rd thing? Or, for someone changing and growing beyond the boundaries of their limits, is such a test reliable or is it merely a tool to determine a starting place for change.

Grief never fades

Splay me open
Crack my chest
There’s little enough left
A heart in tatters
Each new day cut slivers
Stuck in throat
Flowed out with tears come unbidden
Weaving a false tale of hopes realization
Fantasy without root
Just another sliver
An ache that never ends
Take what blood remains
Chest hollowed out
Filled with burnt ash
An endless well

A dream that lives the man

I want to fill my head with noise
Just a cacophony of sound so I don’t have to think
Just a minute to stop
Not know
Not be
Just static
A mask for pain
Something to keep my eyes clear
No blurry vision
No cloudy pictures
Feeling alone feels like giving up

Get to know your own company they say
But you can’t turn and share a book with yourself
Can’t listen to a particular piece of music
Can’t sing a silly song you made up on the spot
Just because

Maybe I’ll be good at this on some future tomorrow
But I doubt it
I want too much
I want all
I’ve been the possible
I’ve seen the chances
How can I go back to the alone?
I’ve come too far to accept that

I apologize

I once sent a woman roses to her place of work because it looked like she was sad and I didn’t have the words. I didn’t write anything on the card. I didn’t expect anything for them. Reading this, I hope like hell that they didn’t strike fear.

When I was 6 years old, I was on a playground at school and the boys were chasing the girls, I Chased a girl and took a kiss. She didn’t like it. I never kissed or took without consent from then on. I hope that memory that is in my head as a lesson learned doesn’t burn in her as a evil thing.

I once asked someone a question on a dating site, related to their profile, because it was interesting and I wanted to hear her elaboration. She tore into me like I’d done something wrong and I was hurt and didn’t understand why. I didn’t know at the time that it was very likely she had been raked over coals again and again for her opinion and it left her raw.
I’m paying attention and going back through my memories for any time I took an action or said something. These are what I’ve found.

I hope there are not more that I’m not seeing. I’ve asked the women and men in my life and they’ve said I haven’t. I hope that is true.

Burdens we can’t put down

The problem with being sad all the time is that your face becomes this mask of pain
A mask that people work around, see every day until it just becomes your face
But the pains not you. You are joy and sunshine and that day in the park where you held hands and looked into her eyes and felt so light you might float away
No one sees that you. It’s bound up in memories and minutes found in the present that pass by leaving only wreckage.
As a man wracked by pain, enduring, pushing the pain away takes a pain killer and for too short a time, Knows a life without his burden. Then it all comes crashing back down and what was endurable before is now unbearable. So too is joy to a sad heart.

When words are too uncertain

These cold lonely days with nothing
but time and hope
These words that bubble up and want to drip out
but lips clamp closed
These feelings that speak of desire
But already way out on a limb
Should hands let go and fall
Or does gravity and fluid dynamics dictate this uncertainty
A symptom
Of being unworthy
Held back by hands forged from my own skin
Held down by actions echoing forward
Prepared for nothing
Dreams left empty
Behind eyelids
Too painful to cry
Or speak

Valentine’s day 25

I watch the swaying roll of hips. My wife crawling to the first soft puddle. The sheen of wet on hard wood. Her mouth dips down and red full lips part. Soft pink tongue presses against the wood. She plants her knees far apart, leverage so that she can lick the wood clean. The soft hidden rose if her sex opens like the flower I have cherished and punished.

I fight myself. My cock is raw and pushes against the underwear and pants. Pain flares. There is always too much of a good thing. Still, the thought of my hardness pushing into her. Melding us together. The feel of her warmth around me. Almost, almost I give in. Though, I know it would be more pain than pleasure. Though I know, I risk damage. I still feel myself tightening. Pain and heat spreading.

I push that down. If I am not in control, this could go very badly. There is a part of me that wants to take her and hurt her and see the fear and desire war in her eyes. It’s that part that I dare not show. If we were alone, then breaking her would be a good thing. Something we both want, both need. As long as we put each other back together afterwards, as such a thing takes a toll on us both. But if Tara sees the monster…It’s too soon. Too much like her old master. It would undo everything.

It is this realization that hits me like a pitcher of ice water. It’s why it’s too soon for the handfasting. Why Tara knew that she couldn’t yet. She senses I’m holding the darkest parts of my desire back from her. She is correct. I’m an idiot. I rushed, thinking she’s seen everything that is important. But this, this part that so rarely shows. This part that wants the screams and the pain more than it wants control and pleasure. The part my Sara sees, and knows, and lusts for.

Very well. For Sara, a bit of both. But quietly. I slip out of my dress shoes and pad on naked feet to where my Sara is licking up the juices of Tara. The largest puddle before the toy chest. I kneel next to Sara. Brushing against her. Feeling the softness of her thigh, up her back to my raven, flechted into her skin. A testament to our desires.

“Make no sound,” I whisper.

She turns and looks at me, nodding her head. My good girl.

I run my fingers down her, pinching and playing. I twist her nipple until tears and the soft choke of a whimper. I pull her arm up, pushing her face against the top of the toy chest. Pulling her hand to rest on the fabric over my stiff cock. Her shoulder is at an angle that I know hurts. I unzip and put myself into her hand. I release her. From past games she knows not to let go or squirm. I slide my index finger inside her. Feeling the slick warmth suck me in.

“Only if you can make me cum do you get to orgasm,” I say, pushing another finger inside.

She grips me, trying to jack me off at this angle, but she’s unable to do much more than run her fingers over me.

I spread my fingers apart, making room for a third finger. The sounds of her whimpers making me clamp down hard. The sound of her panting and mewling. I can’t stand it. I’m weak.

I pull my fingers out of her. Reach over and pull her other arm up. I could dislocate her shoulders like this, arms held behind her wrenched back, neck muscles holding her up. Trying to maintain a balance that gives her some control. No. That won’t do. Control is mine. I pull her arms up. She’s crying and pant screaming softly but audibly. I push my cock inside of her. The rawness making me want more. I slam myself into her. The slap of flesh against flesh and her screams pulling my cum out of me. Spilling my seed into her. I keep slamming into her hoping I’ll break her. Hoping for a red. But it doesn’t come. And I’m completely spent and consumed with shame.

I let her go. I pull in great lungfuls of air. Almost hyperventilating with the violence. I see blood on my cock. Mine or hers, I can’t tell. She turns around and sucks the blood and cum and honey juices off of me. Cleaning me up, unbidden. I’m definitely the one bleeding. Her tongue probes the cut and I gasp. Her eyes meet mine. And like a jolt, the last cum in my body spills slow into her mouth. She sucks me down, her eyes never leaving mine.
Just us connected. Just us. And our foxy girl in the next room