Rambling thoughts

There is a surprising degree of romantic thought that goes into Bdsm play. As master, I construct the scene. I create the space, the framework that my submissive can step into. We’ll have had the Negotiation well ahead of time. I prefer a date somewhere public to have that discussion. It allows me to gauge the degree of exhibitionist they are, allows me to see how comfortable with the lifestyle and degree of interest in the various acts. For many, the public setting puts them off balance and allows space for honesty. That’s just the initial meeting, I use text and fantasy scenarios to see what space they want to explore. Pleasure is all well and good, but discovery of something new or a variation is often better.

I say romantic because the scenario preplay is idealized and postplay it’s often misremembered through the haze, (if it was good). I, unfortunately, can’t do that. Forget enough to fill in pieces, I mean. I have a specific type of sense memory. I remember people I have been romantically entangled with. I remember each touch, and a few minutes after touch with crystalline clarity. It is a curse.

Past is passing

Fingertips pressed
hands clasped,
sliding arm against arm
then embrace
eye to eye
tongue on tongue
melding together distinct but
intermingled
tongue on tongue
eye to eye
embrace
pulling away
hands clasped
fingertips pressed
distance
apart and alone

These days

This is one of those days when I wish I had a play partner who just wanted pure edge masochistic play.  I don’t often need that.  Usually, I’m more interested in pain/pleasure thresholds and the blending of one into the other.  But sometimes, only screams and blood will satisfy.  I worry sometimes, does that make me a monster.

Subconscious fades

Hold this sunset in your heart, you’ll need it when the darkness closes in
This night too, its calmness, its moon
When beauty is fleeting and all else is bleak

Hold these pieces of my gift to you

Watch the storm shake the sky and the rumble growls
Know strength and I’m beside you
In terror and hope, in love and despair
See truth in the world,
this is my prayer

As pendulum swings and time presses on I’ll not always be here for you, everything ends even gods, even faith

So I ask that you see, that you hear, that you know
Bind these shattered stars, these jagged memories, bind them and see the boundless unfurl
’till all comes round again

Aspects

An aspect of mining my sexual history and emotional states is I no longer have any fear of exposure for my proclivities or for how I feel.  Oh, you found out about my depressions, would you like to read some poetry about it? You found out I like leather, would you like to read a story about how far I take that?

Dream on Monday in July

I dreamed of that I, a friend, his wife (another friend) and a couple of others had created something technological and interesting, a game that tapped into sociological, psychological archetypes to immerse the player in a truly augmented reality. Not just vr, but an overlay to consciousness. We were in talks with a major investor who had decided to show us a good time. They took us to a concert at a musical conservatory but this one had a dance floor made of parquet in the shape of a nautilus shell. The steps down were steep so I was holding my hand to steady the ladies as they stepped down the extremely narrow staircases. One in particular, touched my hand and a thrill of electricity passed between us. We bantered and on seeing the dance floor, I asked her to dance. Though, at best, my dancing could be considered enthusiastic. The party started to bore so we in the company donned our AR glasses and I booted up a music program where we could interact with a bunch of different musicians. Talk or request songs. Hear stories from them. It was something new I’d put together for us.
I remember us talking about it and to artists like George Clinton and others. Then I felt a sense of profound loss and I woke up.

Musically inclined

Shadows bending down
Nights flame dwindling in cold mathematical melody
Adrift in cacophony’s sea
Reverb in verse
Rhythms rime burst asunder

Sacrilegious silence
Bask me in your notes
Fill my anticipation
Coupled couplets
Dance your memory

Huh

When I write erotica I draw from my experiences and don’t really embellish things.  Sometimes I clean it up a little.  But because of that, I sometimes feel like I’m bragging.  I’m not, I don’t think.  But it just hit me that it might.  And there are people that read my work that know me IRL, so I sometimes wonder what they make of it. 

New story

I’m writing a new story. The fantasy stories are interesting to me but I find I have a hard time connecting the scenes together.  And it’s hard to write them. Which is not to say the endeavor is not worthwhile but it feels like I’m going against the grain of my soul.  So I’m writing another erotic tale.  A continuation or an elaboration of characters introduced in Ballroom.  This one just flows.  It feels right.  Thanks for reading.

Wings

Slipping away through corridors slick
with exhaled breathe
Borne minute by minute in shadow
burning
Silence pounding staccato rhythm
through broken ribs
Heart tearing free from confined moorings
Freedoms wings, light as sin, take me home