Rolling

20/03/2015 § Leave a comment

Remembering how I used to move with skin, from body to body with myself intact. This feels foreign and impossible.

Perhaps it’s a dream only imagined in retrospect. When did these spikes arise? And this thorniness. Turned inwards, so another’s body presses it deeper.

The difficulty is in knowing what to reflect on and what to ignore. The difficulty is in knowing when to push through and when to stop.

I fantasise of receiving sexual abuse but just before I orgasm I’m overtaken with the wild energy of the reptilian brain and I become the one choking, hitting, forcing.

My friend told me of a girl who was raped as a child and wanted him to fuck her in the same way now. I couldn’t even fake shock. Maybe it’s naive to say, but I doubt a persons desires will ever be shocking to me again.

My boyfriend (and that word still freaks me out) nearly fisted me the other day and I nearly cried with joy. To be filled by someone I have strong feelings for is an indescribable feeling.

He strips my skin away. It’s not the acts, it’s myself. Lashing myself raw with my affection for him.

The hunger of submission, like worshippers to god. The similarities of D/s and religion is endless.

‘My stomach is swollen and I long to be fucked and destroyed’ I wrote high, after eating a large pizza. Losing the ability to be humourous after too much introspection.

I dream of his boot crushing me into the floor, being fucked in the ass, being growled at to squeeze his cock, to suck the cum off him.

I fantasise about him cumming deep inside me without protection. In my dreams I cling to him like a mussel on a rock, knuckles white with emotion. Even my dream self can’t deny that I’m vulnerable.

I know life is all about being open. Buddy Wakefield was the first to crack open that truth to me. Then the men I work with, their lives of lies teaching me how not to live. An instruction manual for misery, laid out step by step.

‘I refuse to fight it’ I say to myself, meaning the vulnerability. But that’s only partly true. I’m torn between cracking myself open and burrowing to safety. I do both at the same time.

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