Purveyor of Pleasure

Pleasure is my business, my life, my joy, my purpose.

Tag: posting this well after it was written

Not Yet Three Years

I don’t track it anymore, not in months, and often not even in years. It’s part of me now in a way I don’t have to think about. If I’m pressed to think about it, as I am requesting of myself now, it’s been 2 years and 8 1/2 months that I’ve been on T. Not yet three years, but that is getting closer and closer.

I’ve had many changes to my body and self in that time. The new way that clothes hang on me is just as comfortable as it was before, but now feels more aligned with right. I got so good at faking before because that was also right for me, but also wrong.

Tuesday night I took my testosterone at the turning of the new moon, as I do every month (weekly on the new, full, and half moons), and I called to Virgo and my highest self. This month, this year, this life has been so full of doing and avoiding, and in my most recent ceremony I requested clarity from source, and that clarity keeps on coming.

I have been stuck in perfectionism for so long it has often been hard to be. Challenging to exist as I am, because of that endless striving drive for the supposed perfect. It has also kept me from appreciating what actually is. Fear of failure and fear of success have run me into paralysis for too long. Indecision was never fearful.

In addition to clarity, I requested to open more to right relationship (with myself and others) and decisive action. We shall see how that goes.

Paralysis

I sunk into myself recently. Stopped remembering how to be anything but internal, to exist in any way but as a hermit.

I wrapped that supposed cocoon around me, but I did not become a butterfly. I just became caterpillar soup. I became mush. Mess. Liquid me, sinking deeper into my bed and disappearing inside of myself.

I sank and I dissolved and I didn’t know what else to do but lie in bed and stare at screens. All of my knowledge and all of the changes and all of the help I can give to others could not keep me from floating away from myself.

My whole world came crashing down on me.

Driven to Distraction

I can’t get the image of you fucking me out of my head.

This isn’t just an image in the visual sense. When I think of it I can feel the ghost of the sensations you evoke within me across my body. My cunt clenches around the lack of you. My chest aches, missing the caresses and the pain from your fingers, lips, tongue, and teeth. My fingers curl, wanting to feel your skin beneath them, to hold you closer as your hips pump your hardness into me.

Why is it that every time we fuck it just makes me want to experience your hardness inside of me again? My nipples are sore and aching today because of you, not surprisingly. I have a few bruises on my thigh and one where your teeth dug down deep into the flesh of my breast.

I want you.

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