Spring makes me a bitch

This pain is epic or nonexistent from one minute to the next.
Forget to be sad or happy but consciousness is a curse.
Unhappy me is a vicious tongue waiting for an opportunity to cut.
To destroy and bask in the surprised looks and startled laughter.
Waiting to take it too far or right up to the line but not over.
Waiting for you to take offense so that I can push further.
Profoundly unhappy makes me seem normal.
Like all the rest but honesty in the hands of a unhappy masochist with nothing to lose is a blade wielded with glee.
Join me in my pain and dance a blood frenzy of broken hopes.

Who are these people?

Every story I hear about how awful or boring or lackluster a sexual encounter is, I’m floored. I just can’t seem to grasp how someone could want to be less than good. How someone can be so focused on their own gratification that they don’t see to the desires of their partner. Even if it’s a one time deal.

Now, admittedly, I’m not great at vanilla aspects of love making. In a vanilla situation, what do I do with my hands? It causes me anxiety not knowing. Non vanilla and I’ll be pinching and squeezing. Hand at your throat, controlling your breathing. But vanilla? I’m lost.

Explicitly, you should always have other sensations occurring other than just my dick inside you. In vanilla that’s what? Hands running across your body? In my head, hands exploring is a sensual prelude not a main course.

With kink, there is a wide range of possibilities from light bondage, to discipline, to spanking, to pinwheels, to a wide range of toys, and on and on.

Vanilla just narrows the scope. There are likely people that excel at this narrow scope. Who provide an excellent experience. It’s not me. I’m not practiced at it. So, while I’ll be enthusiastic and attentive, I wouldn’t consider myself good.

But, I would do everything in my power to make sure you, my partner, have a good time. Just because I don’t consider myself good doesn’t mean that you will. You will probably see that some aspects weren’t great. But after two or three orgasms that leave you boneless, I hope you will at least remember me fondly.

Too honest for safety

I would rather be stripped, burned and broken than to ever wear a mask again.  The masks may keep us safe but they never keep us sane. Eventually, all walls crumble and the facades we built strangle us.  Until we stand naked before the world we are fated to be forsaken. 

My name is Anthony. My name is Pelgris. I am Cismale. I am Pansexual. I am a large, dark and intelligent man. I am strong physically and emotionally. I am a blade bared. I am a BDSM master. I am honest. I fear this, this last stripping of pretense.  And so it must occur.