A dick, a pussy, an ass, a mouth
To me these are all vanilla
Been there done that
If that is all you want, there better be an emotive component because otherwise what’s the point
But if you want to be owned, trained
Then I don’t need the emotive crutch
The process, the new, the interplay is enough
Tell me your dirtiest, darkest desires
I’ll make them come true
You have other lovers?
That’s nice, I like to watch, participate
with them, with you
switch me round, pain and pleasure
drink me, drown me
I’m good for 3 or more, then spent, fingers, toys and mouth
quiver and cum, I want your pleasure writ loud in animalistic sounds
whimper, tied up, ball gag, breathe play, the lash, the flog, the paddle
flechettes if you go to the edge
don’t believe that my ongoing quest for emotional relationships preclude the physical
I’ve immersed myself, lost myself in rut
I like going down so much that I do daily tongue exercises to build endurance
I’m a fat guy, losing the weight but still I can see why you’d go for the skinny guy,
But 3 things (always at least 3), I am an accomplished and practiced lover, many consider me to be attractive despite the fat, and I get off on you getting off. and if you are into kink or BDSM, we have plenty to talk about or explore.
I just need you to ask, to be interested. Unless we are dating, I require a smack to the face to show consent, open palm and smile if you like rough, we’ll discuss how far you want to go
Come on, come out
I’m feeling too emotional right now and need to lose myself in skin and pleasure
Month: February 2016
Thoughts on Death
Death walks beside us all. Death is our lover. Our mistress. Our brother. Our hope.
When all the pain of life weighs heavy on our decaying form, death lifts us from the pain. Death is a gift.
Death’s finality makes the minutes of life that much sweeter. The knowledge that this ends is both bittersweet and hopeful.
Death is the final refuge, the last doorway we take. And whatever your beliefs are, the last step in this life to the unknown beyond.
The world ends and begins again
I must come to the conclusion that I am the only constant in my tales of woe. I twist and change month by month but will that ever be enough? I stretch.
My thoughts and beliefs change. But am I judged by them and not my actions? Or are past actions, told and retold. A spectre haunting my future as surely as it stalks my present. Should I stop acting from the heart? Much as doing so would pain me, is it the correct action? Should I be less open, less honest?
I feel like I’ve been traveling this road awhile and each time find myself back at these same crossroads. Marked by discarded bits of myself. Left mouldering on this lonely moon drenched road. Should I pick up one of those pieces? Become what I was and vowed to never be again. Or discard another layer and step forth again?
I wait and dither, hoping I’ll see something that will make the choice evident. Or failing that someone will show me a new path. But I’ve taken so many, maybe the same path can be made new by traveling it with someone? But who would that person be?
One bleeds into another
And I wherein a candle make
In shadow,
shrift down
drift and dive
The split, the fain
Dagger dance
Twist and drink
The dragon road burns
A song drifts in sleeps melody
Waking the dreamers
Rain falls upward
Defiance and fealty
Sink low in bog
In tavern creel
Bound traveler
Bound sorrow
Wings unfurled
Rain
I’d like to share nights listening to the rain pounding down
I’d like to share soft mornings
Slowly waking beside you
I’ve lost and I’ve found
Why does no one stay?
