Here is a draft diary entry...recounting something two days earlier...
There are times I wonder how this happened. I might wonder if it had happened, though I have pictures to remind me that I was there and that it happened to me. These extended and grounded my memories -- a cinemascape of nakedness, reflections and facial expressions. These in turn mixed with a story of the three of us gradually dropping our layers, our masks, our independence.
A couple approached me, via the female partner, and asked whether I was interested in having them visit.
They arrived on a Friday. They were the "in love" types -- inseparable and usually insufferable, but these two had something they wanted or maybe needed to do, with and for their coupledom.
I don't know how soon we had our clothes off. They had to fuck. I had to get naked when they did. He fucked her something special, on the plush floor of Blue Studio. Throwing open their emotions before me, they fucked like they needed to be seen doing it.
He slipped his big cock into her and played her from the inside. She in turn pulled up her knees, moaned and allowed her face to burst into expressions of receiving.
She never grew sated and he pumped her deeper into that. I breathed in the vision of what I'd so long been craving -- in the presence of their fucking, I was within sight of a mirror. This I was, they knew it because they looked at me there, and at themselves and one another. Something unusual, a feeling or a shift of the light, occurred the moment we all made eye contact with one another, through our reflections. That space opened and it didn't close. We understood then that we could be more honest with one another.
They were more comfortable with their reflections than I felt. So easygoing, they felt to one another…I felt my slight tension of ease, then I grabbed my eyes with my gaze, determined to show myself facing myself.
He fucked his cock into her as I slowly flooded with heat and relief. My cock sprung out from my body though I didn't touch myself; my palms were pressed into the futon and I gazed at them and ten myself, slackjawed and breathing deeply. The sequence of events from then happened swiftly and in suspended movement - both.
She plunged into a new orgasmic depth that seemed to draw him with her, and he let go. I could see his balls and the base of his cock in her and he moaned in time with the throbs of his body. She received him. Then with his cock still spurting slightly he withdrew from her, revealing her vulva flooded with semen that was spilling out from her. I saw one cord of fresh milk spurt out of him and onto the bedding. Then I was confronted with the sight of her flooded cunt and from there gazed as she looked toward and then at me with her brown eyes expanded and her face free. Knees apart revealing this delightful spill and her eyes meeting mine.
I knew I needed to orgasm. I knew I was free to do so. I picked up a spattered mirror and held the glass toward them, so they could see what I had in my hands.
"Is that your semen?" he asked, just as I reached my tongue to the glass and licked a tan and yellowing crust, sucked off my tongue and with a mouth wet from saliva, leaned in and licked again.
"Mm hmm," I said, tasting myself as animal salt, and I swallowed to make the sounds.
I felt something distinctly loving, which is I understood I was about to receive what I want. She lay there with her knees apart and her matted cunt dripping and soaked with her vulva water and full of his semen. Her hole, her crack, and the successive layers of lips that made up her full genitalia. Glancing at this I licked my own dried semen off thicker, moaning a little more than I might otherwise, that is, if alone.
Suddenly I was thirsty and she was water. This is something I'd never done - lick another man's semen from the vagina of his lover. I could now if I wanted, and she could see the thirst on my face. He looked at me calmly, bemused, his prick starting to firm up again. I sucked off my tongue once more, and licked myself again; I placed the mirror on the floor and spread myself open and licked realizing I was not looking, then opening my eyes.
I knew what I eventually wanted. That's why I could choose it; choose myself and my thirst for their elixir turned hot in my throat, and dry, and that was thirst. I am thirsting for them and I'm going to get myself.
At that my orgasm burst out of me. The first spurt of my semen splashed onto a mirror I had picked up, and then I was taken by a second, deeper pulse of orgasm as I looked at them in disbelief. He lay reclined not far from the mirror, and this utterly free release of my emotions and my semen splashed in one hot gush all over his face.
He was not expecting this and he had no interest whatever in its occurrence. He was on his feet and running into the bathroom so fast I was stunned a second time in a short moment. Then we laughed spontaneously and tried to silence ourselves but…he had to have heard.
So this is recent? I think this is the first time I have heard you mention your homosexuality in your writing in this way. Also sense an evolution in your journey.
PS I suspect there is an element of freedom available in challenging sexual taboo that must make many people feel unstable and otherwise very nervous. To do this one does not need to exceed the bounds of a monogamous relationship, but it's necessary to bring one's real self into the experience...that's the point of maximum conflict, I think. Relationships are often places to hide. This is part of why so many people have to always be in one, and justify it with moral righteousness.
The moral claim of being monogamous. Ha. Monogamy goes against natural law. I am allergic to being told what is acceptable and what is not, what I can or can't do, what I should or shouldn't feel. But even then, I still have internal barriers I have built up within myself that I have to overcome to have the kind of experiences I desire that would allow me to be my true self.
By maximum conflict, do you mean the greatest amount of positive friction that would lead to explosive desire?
<< but it's necessary to bring one's real self into the experience...that's the point of maximum conflict >>
Sure you could say that; what I am implying is that the greatest resistance many people feel is being real about their desires and drive to connect. It really brings up conflict and they avoid "it" which means themselves. The true self is not always a strong signal.
One cannot say they are searching for their true self, as there is nowhere to search. It is within us but obscured from many, so yes, not a strong signal.
For me, it's a matter of gaining access. And yes, opening up to a connection without veils or pretense is frightening until you see the other side and then...
An important element of masturbation is its homosexual nature. In my long inquiry into why the masturbation taboo persists, I come up with about five major reasons, and same-sex (meaning also NOT sex with the opposite sex) is on that short list. This essential homosexuality of masturbation is rarely confronted, swept aside with the rest of what makes people uncomforable about self-sex. Nobody including "queer folk" wants to think that queer is as pervasive as masturbation and that there is nothing special about homosexuality. Part of this involves how much masturbation fantasy involves imagined same-sex desires or same-sex imagery when the ego is unrestrained by the rise of orgone. The truth of people's sexuality is told in the last three or so minutes before orgasm...maybe in the sixty seconds because that's where deepest desires rise to the surface. This total internal freedom is one of the reasons that masturbation is considered taboo, sinful and verboten. Your mind is free and you can go anywhere, and do anything, with anyone; there are no rules and there is no inappropriate.
I wasn't aware of the homosexual element in masturbation, but your reasoning explains it.
I have been self-pleasuring since I was eight years old. Lots of experiences, lots of mirrors and accessories. It was very natural and instinctive for me. Yet I still cannot talk to even my closest friends about it because of their reaction when I bring it up. They can't look me in the eye. They close down. So I have faint hope that they will ever find the sixty-second door and open it to experience the bliss of that freedom.
I think here we are looking at the crux of society's sexual problems. In my view all sex comes back to one's sexual relationship with oneself. And if that cannot be a topic of discussion, there really is no discussion at all.
For me, same sex and opposite sex experiences bring out varying depths of emotion, like from different regions of the sea. Hormonally, I am driven by my attraction to women...and something about certain female faces that is totally distinctive to my attration...and also usually prefering women's personalities...with men something else is going on; i have to go there, get there, find my way there...and when I am it's another emotional world...for me sexual pleasure is about honesty and this is another variety...something about men knowing the secrets of male feeling, erogenous and otherwise, and having that specific witness...and having that understood and exposing myself to be understood...comes with a vibrant and delightful embarassment... nakedness... exposure. If one wants that delight of nakedness than a little flare of embarrassment can be so gorgeous... as it melts inhibition. It's embarrassing to say but I will, my most exquistely pleasurable sex has involved... getting a man to maturbate into my hand, and then masturbating with his fresh semen... in front of him... cosmic and unreal... the texture and vitality of his warm cum and being witnessed... known and undersstood... then I drink the mix of both of us... revealing my wet mouth and face. And I would show this to any woman who wanted to watch ... for the sheer joy of it all.
I'm not using it in the usual sense of a "sexual orientation" or as "identity" but rather as a direction of movement or awareness. Once self enters the scene...it's a different notion...
I think the subject of the photo may be her hands.
Here is a draft diary entry...recounting something two days earlier...
There are times I wonder how this happened. I might wonder if it had happened, though I have pictures to remind me that I was there and that it happened to me. These extended and grounded my memories -- a cinemascape of nakedness, reflections and facial expressions. These in turn mixed with a story of the three of us gradually dropping our layers, our masks, our independence.
A couple approached me, via the female partner, and asked whether I was interested in having them visit.
They arrived on a Friday. They were the "in love" types -- inseparable and usually insufferable, but these two had something they wanted or maybe needed to do, with and for their coupledom.
I don't know how soon we had our clothes off. They had to fuck. I had to get naked when they did. He fucked her something special, on the plush floor of Blue Studio. Throwing open their emotions before me, they fucked like they needed to be seen doing it.
He slipped his big cock into her and played her from the inside. She in turn pulled up her knees, moaned and allowed her face to burst into expressions of receiving.
She never grew sated and he pumped her deeper into that. I breathed in the vision of what I'd so long been craving -- in the presence of their fucking, I was within sight of a mirror. This I was, they knew it because they looked at me there, and at themselves and one another. Something unusual, a feeling or a shift of the light, occurred the moment we all made eye contact with one another, through our reflections. That space opened and it didn't close. We understood then that we could be more honest with one another.
They were more comfortable with their reflections than I felt. So easygoing, they felt to one another…I felt my slight tension of ease, then I grabbed my eyes with my gaze, determined to show myself facing myself.
He fucked his cock into her as I slowly flooded with heat and relief. My cock sprung out from my body though I didn't touch myself; my palms were pressed into the futon and I gazed at them and ten myself, slackjawed and breathing deeply. The sequence of events from then happened swiftly and in suspended movement - both.
She plunged into a new orgasmic depth that seemed to draw him with her, and he let go. I could see his balls and the base of his cock in her and he moaned in time with the throbs of his body. She received him. Then with his cock still spurting slightly he withdrew from her, revealing her vulva flooded with semen that was spilling out from her. I saw one cord of fresh milk spurt out of him and onto the bedding. Then I was confronted with the sight of her flooded cunt and from there gazed as she looked toward and then at me with her brown eyes expanded and her face free. Knees apart revealing this delightful spill and her eyes meeting mine.
I knew I needed to orgasm. I knew I was free to do so. I picked up a spattered mirror and held the glass toward them, so they could see what I had in my hands.
"Is that your semen?" he asked, just as I reached my tongue to the glass and licked a tan and yellowing crust, sucked off my tongue and with a mouth wet from saliva, leaned in and licked again.
"Mm hmm," I said, tasting myself as animal salt, and I swallowed to make the sounds.
I felt something distinctly loving, which is I understood I was about to receive what I want. She lay there with her knees apart and her matted cunt dripping and soaked with her vulva water and full of his semen. Her hole, her crack, and the successive layers of lips that made up her full genitalia. Glancing at this I licked my own dried semen off thicker, moaning a little more than I might otherwise, that is, if alone.
Suddenly I was thirsty and she was water. This is something I'd never done - lick another man's semen from the vagina of his lover. I could now if I wanted, and she could see the thirst on my face. He looked at me calmly, bemused, his prick starting to firm up again. I sucked off my tongue once more, and licked myself again; I placed the mirror on the floor and spread myself open and licked realizing I was not looking, then opening my eyes.
I knew what I eventually wanted. That's why I could choose it; choose myself and my thirst for their elixir turned hot in my throat, and dry, and that was thirst. I am thirsting for them and I'm going to get myself.
At that my orgasm burst out of me. The first spurt of my semen splashed onto a mirror I had picked up, and then I was taken by a second, deeper pulse of orgasm as I looked at them in disbelief. He lay reclined not far from the mirror, and this utterly free release of my emotions and my semen splashed in one hot gush all over his face.
He was not expecting this and he had no interest whatever in its occurrence. He was on his feet and running into the bathroom so fast I was stunned a second time in a short moment. Then we laughed spontaneously and tried to silence ourselves but…he had to have heard.
So this is recent? I think this is the first time I have heard you mention your homosexuality in your writing in this way. Also sense an evolution in your journey.
PS I suspect there is an element of freedom available in challenging sexual taboo that must make many people feel unstable and otherwise very nervous. To do this one does not need to exceed the bounds of a monogamous relationship, but it's necessary to bring one's real self into the experience...that's the point of maximum conflict, I think. Relationships are often places to hide. This is part of why so many people have to always be in one, and justify it with moral righteousness.
The moral claim of being monogamous. Ha. Monogamy goes against natural law. I am allergic to being told what is acceptable and what is not, what I can or can't do, what I should or shouldn't feel. But even then, I still have internal barriers I have built up within myself that I have to overcome to have the kind of experiences I desire that would allow me to be my true self.
By maximum conflict, do you mean the greatest amount of positive friction that would lead to explosive desire?
<< but it's necessary to bring one's real self into the experience...that's the point of maximum conflict >>
Sure you could say that; what I am implying is that the greatest resistance many people feel is being real about their desires and drive to connect. It really brings up conflict and they avoid "it" which means themselves. The true self is not always a strong signal.
'The true self is not always a strong signal.'
One cannot say they are searching for their true self, as there is nowhere to search. It is within us but obscured from many, so yes, not a strong signal.
For me, it's a matter of gaining access. And yes, opening up to a connection without veils or pretense is frightening until you see the other side and then...
An important element of masturbation is its homosexual nature. In my long inquiry into why the masturbation taboo persists, I come up with about five major reasons, and same-sex (meaning also NOT sex with the opposite sex) is on that short list. This essential homosexuality of masturbation is rarely confronted, swept aside with the rest of what makes people uncomforable about self-sex. Nobody including "queer folk" wants to think that queer is as pervasive as masturbation and that there is nothing special about homosexuality. Part of this involves how much masturbation fantasy involves imagined same-sex desires or same-sex imagery when the ego is unrestrained by the rise of orgone. The truth of people's sexuality is told in the last three or so minutes before orgasm...maybe in the sixty seconds because that's where deepest desires rise to the surface. This total internal freedom is one of the reasons that masturbation is considered taboo, sinful and verboten. Your mind is free and you can go anywhere, and do anything, with anyone; there are no rules and there is no inappropriate.
I wasn't aware of the homosexual element in masturbation, but your reasoning explains it.
I have been self-pleasuring since I was eight years old. Lots of experiences, lots of mirrors and accessories. It was very natural and instinctive for me. Yet I still cannot talk to even my closest friends about it because of their reaction when I bring it up. They can't look me in the eye. They close down. So I have faint hope that they will ever find the sixty-second door and open it to experience the bliss of that freedom.
I think here we are looking at the crux of society's sexual problems. In my view all sex comes back to one's sexual relationship with oneself. And if that cannot be a topic of discussion, there really is no discussion at all.
Yes. Exactly.
For me, same sex and opposite sex experiences bring out varying depths of emotion, like from different regions of the sea. Hormonally, I am driven by my attraction to women...and something about certain female faces that is totally distinctive to my attration...and also usually prefering women's personalities...with men something else is going on; i have to go there, get there, find my way there...and when I am it's another emotional world...for me sexual pleasure is about honesty and this is another variety...something about men knowing the secrets of male feeling, erogenous and otherwise, and having that specific witness...and having that understood and exposing myself to be understood...comes with a vibrant and delightful embarassment... nakedness... exposure. If one wants that delight of nakedness than a little flare of embarrassment can be so gorgeous... as it melts inhibition. It's embarrassing to say but I will, my most exquistely pleasurable sex has involved... getting a man to maturbate into my hand, and then masturbating with his fresh semen... in front of him... cosmic and unreal... the texture and vitality of his warm cum and being witnessed... known and undersstood... then I drink the mix of both of us... revealing my wet mouth and face. And I would show this to any woman who wanted to watch ... for the sheer joy of it all.
What you always say about being witnessed and seen is, for me, the most intimate you can be with a partner. For me, to be seen is my ultimate.
the idea has a place...homosexuality is a mode of expression...implied many ways...this story is from about 2010.
Yes, I understand that word is not one-dimensional and has many shades and colors.
Love the picture of the three of you. Images can say more than words at times.
I'm not using it in the usual sense of a "sexual orientation" or as "identity" but rather as a direction of movement or awareness. Once self enters the scene...it's a different notion...
I think the subject of the photo may be her hands.
After I read the essay and looked at the photo a second time, my eyes immediately went to how the man is holding his clenched hand on her shoulder.
Yep that adds to the intrigue of the photo for sure...