The inherent contradiction
Or is it a contraction? Doesn't feel like one.
« I decided to indulge myself in the delight of being denied pussy. I understood the inherent contraction. I learned that given the opportunity, women enjoy and take pleasure in withholding themselves, guilt free. »
I get off on women’s pleasure. All women read this from me. Gradually I deduced the delight that women may take in denying a man sex. The problem is guilt: about saying no, much less taking pleasure from it. I’m not talking about sadism. I am talking about the yum of particpating in an honest and mutual sexual transaction. There can only be pleasure if he accepts her will lovingly.
From my side of the sphere, I had to offered myself permission to ask to be denied once I understood and accepted how that felt good; if not why. Understanding would come. Arriving as I accepted my cosmic self union with myself. Being denied yields a special nakedness for me, witnessed in that state. From there I’ve leanred to confess what I need the most even as I may beg for the least sniff of yoni.
She patiently waits for me to open up about my selfthirst. If we’ve got a clear understanding I’m not drinking from her pussy, there’s only one way to go.
So this scenario finnesses itself toward the space where I am thanking She in ecstasy for denying me, begging to drink myself for the fulfillment of cunt. This is the ultimate contradiction. I lick my dry cum for the Goddess. I love when she holds my cruisted mirror for me to lick and smell. I know it’s OK.
She presents me with vulva made of myself, where my own eyes appear, searching for me, not recognizing.
I love the women who know how thirsty I am for cunt, and for smelling cunt, and who help me face my orgasm face; my eyes meet my eyes as I let my overflowing emotions go, and drink my liquid life. It’s been a while since I’ve seen my face orgasm. I admit that. To you of all people, I can. Maybe I’m avoiding myself. Somtimes I feel like there’s only so much I can take and yet I know, I’m craving now.
I’ll willingly go alone, grateful for such love and friendship as I’ve discovered in receiving affirmation and love.
She says, Spurt out your attachment onto the glass or into your hand, and drink. I know, this can only be my choice.
The implied message is, I’m here for you now (and so is dani, who is taking the pictures). Next time, you’re going to do this alone.
Photo at top of page: Iris, the Celibacy Goddess, brussels, was the bOb initiate whose presence made it beautiful to surrender to myself…after she had gone…in the space where she had been. Iris became the sigil of the dangerous beauty of never fucking again, and never fucking her. I never orgasmed in her presence and she thus serves as the reminder that some day I will never be witnessed again. I understand that my sexual selflove journey ends alone before myself, with any and all of my mixed emotions. Our final orgasm will probably be self-given.
I am a mirror celibate self semen drinker. My selfthirst is my selflove.