Sanity is overrated!



The Famine

Timing.  This little concept has the power to alter or define futures; the mis-played hand, the too pre-emptive strike, or a complacent attitude can either inspire a dig-in-your-heels optimism or a fatalistic pessimism.  Fortunes have been lost by a hand called too soon, or a sell made too late and the same is true of “chance” encounters.  That being said, I have lately been immersed in a sexual famine and although I know I sound a bit dramatic, the practical realities of sexual malnutrition can influence just about every aspect of life and not in a positive way. The simple prospect of going to work without the magic of those miraculous endorphins coursing through the body can be a dismal prospect; these little beauties affect everything and there is simply no consolation available when I am unable to walk into my daily place of bread-and-butter feeling like a million bucks!  I have had my co-workers comment on those days when I seem to be floating on air, as well as those days when I seem to be stuck in the sludge and the contrasts are obvious, try as I might to keep them hidden.  (In fact, if you work alongside a particular cranky-pants, I would not be surprised if he/she were in a state of sexual frustration and deprivation!)

So, back to my story.  Just when things couldn’t have looked any more bleak in this time of deprivation and famine, there he stood in the middle of the store aisle.  As he spoke, I perceived a handsome and intriguing mixture of lust, charm, intensity, and intelligence and this cocktail of the senses was powerful and impossible to ignore.  My mind began instantly to analyze, scrutinize, and strategize as I quietly thought to myself, “Opportunity is knocking and I must know more…some additional research just might be in order…better act fast!”

So, after about 30-seconds of statistically evaluating my chances of success, I asked him for his number and promptly sent him a text.  Although most men will tell you that they like it when a woman makes the first move, truthfully, they can just as easily become very intimidated.  I have found that most men fear the female who comes on more assertively because having been influenced by the advertising-inspired idealistic construct of romantic love, it is assumed that she must be either interested in having a ring on her finger or have the desire for control via a relationship.  In fact, if she is attractive and nicely put together, they can automatically (and wrongly) surmise that she has to be nuts or conniving.  The motive they almost never guess is that maybe this discerning female would like to take a test-drive before any of that even has a chance to develop…?  Therefore, I am very careful and calculating about who I invite to swim in my pond, so to speak, sexual and intellectual chemistry being mandatory water safety skills along with the requisite physical attributes (yes, shallow I know).

Back to my story.  We set a date; so far, so good.  The evening began a little later than usual which made for the perfectly clear message of there-cannot-be-any-misunderstandings-as-to-the-purpose-of-your-visit and although that may sound a bit unromantic, I can assure you it has the exact opposite effect.  Transparency in the female-male relationship is one of the sexiest and most effective forms of foreplay and allows a woman the luxury of relinquishing her anxiety to make room for anticipation (which is far more fun!).  Playing and fantasizing with the idea that there exists a strong probability of a physical connection, allows the release of energies that can better be utilized through the embodiment of mental and physical pleasure instead of nervous tension and allows this female the opportunity to connect for a brief time in my mind with the Creative Divine.  Getting naked is truly an art form and the most creative act that we humans are blessed to experience in this fleshly dimension; sex is an exhilarating adrenaline rush combined with the highest form of tactile pleasure known to man and suffice it to say that this natural form of pleasure can produce in me infinite inspiration—in fact, sex is the catalyst for much of my creative edge being translated into language!

The kissing was deep and the touch was soft and then rough…ooh, lah, lah!  Sparks flew and we both dripped with sweat as one caress lead effortlessly to another and the Queen acquiesced to lowering her drawbridge as his tongue bid entry.  And enter he did; first like the quiet knock on a door and then like a battering ram and it was sensational!  I soon discovered that he is a master of language as well and said the nastiest, most delicious things that could have burned down the entire castle if it were not for an unexpected flash flood from the Queen herself!  The smell of him still lingers like a current in the ocean, perceptible and strong, the natural groove of our bodies and the pleasures of sensuous skin-on-skin will likely keep me smiling for a long time to come (no pun intended)!  The despair of famine has been lifted and let me just say that the Queen was very pleased to have her faith in her instincts—and her timing– once again confirmed!


Buck-Naked in Bryce

     What is it about nature that just makes you want to take your clothes off?  Somehow it seems unkind to allow the pristine beauty of fresh air, majestic mountains, hellacious hoodoos, and perfumed pine, to bare their all unaccompanied!  Bryce Canyon, Utah, has some of the most magnificent views and breath-taking beauty that has ever been viewed by this human and it seemed wrong somehow to not join in the spectacle of naked nature…so I did!

     Hiking on one of the marked trails, a companion and I discovered the loveliest little river that when followed, led us to its more hidden beauties: a waterfall!  At the bottom of the falls was a rather large pool that eddied up and over and around the surrounding rocks and within the pool was the most striking jade-blue water; it seemed only a matter of time before clothes were off and we were in!  The pool’s location was somewhat isolated and the fear of others coming upon us was minimal, so we frolicked like children in our birthday suits and it was glorious!  The freedom of splashing around, buck-naked in nature, is one of modern life’s remaining simple pleasures and the experience is not to be missed.  The only thing that would have topped the experience would have been to culminate our swim in doing-the-deed, but alas, the water was too cold and … need I say more?!

The satisfaction of completely un-plugging for a few days, leaving all technology behind, was a salve for the soul that every human should allow themselves to experience on a regular basis.  To know that the outside world cannot intrude upon such a serene and peaceful back-drop was very comforting (and ironic!) and that does not even take into account sleeping under the stars, naked, in the unimpeded blackness of the warm night.  The sounds of birds, cicadas, and chipmunks as they rustled about was the perfect cure for my over-stimulated soul and I reveled in the benefits of its healing powers.  I contemplated the paradoxes of life as I realized that 100-years ago humans were divining ways to enhance their comforts and the contrasting modern culture’s need  to step away from those very same luxuries.  To experience the miraculous effects of healing nature by living outdoors for a few days was glorious!  The sex was awesome, the sleep was sound, and I didn’t even mention how much better the food tasted…!

Did I hear someone say “Road-trip”?

Existential Exhibitionism: Part V

Her last encounter was hot, she thought to herself.  It was going to be challenging to top it but she knew she would, of that there was no doubt.  The insatiable cravings of a highly-sexed nature kept her constantly on the look-out for opportunities to satisfy her inner adrenaline junkie and the sweet release that only a good pounding can deliver.

Nevertheless, despite her demanding urges she was very selective.  The object of her affections had to have a slightly arrogant demeanor, the kind that spoke very little in words but whose eyes spoke volumes.  In addition, his covert pride would be combined with a sort of boyish shyness that made him irresistible, no matter his appearance.  Quite often, she imagined that these delectable types were hungry for a “take charge” type of female and that their overbearing attempts at confidence belied a desire to be dominated and seduced.  Oftentimes, she would look a potential candidate up and down until she was certain that his dick was aching!

She noticed just such a specimen, yesterday.  In the neighborhood very near her house, was a construction crew.  One of the group was an unshaven and ruggedly handsome sample and she had made brief eye contact with him.  Noticing that his shirt hugged the muscles in his arms and that his jeans fit nicely around his small, firm butt, she had let him know that she appreciated the scenery and this had resulted in smiles having been exchanged. To make the cocktail (ahem…!) even more appealing, he glistened with a light layer of sweat that could only be described as delectable.  Her hunger having been whetted, she would have had no qualms in licking the sweat right off of him!

Going out to her car the next morning, she noticed that the crew was still at work.  How could she entice him into her house to make a plan for later… when she would be free to ravish every inch of his delicious body?  She thought quickly, perhaps she could ask him if he knew anything about plumbing…?  Catching his eye, she motioned toward him giving the impression of needing to ask a general question; while the crew looked on, he came shyly over to her and she proceeded to ask him if he could take a look at something in her house.  Cautiously, he entered in through the front door and she led him directly into the master bedroom where an annoyingly leaky faucet announced its presence.  Relieved that he seemed to have the situation in hand, he approached the sink with confidence and focus.  Standing closely behind him, she could smell his musky and tantalizing natural sex-his aroma of man-and she wanted to jump him right then and there!  However, decorum decreed that she not get the man fired so she told him to come to her place at 5:30 a.m. the next morning and she would feed him a breakfast of Champions!  She knew she would not be able to sleep a wink that night but the loss of sleep would be worth it!

Awake at 4:00 a.m., she made her preparations.  This ritual was a pleasure all of its own: thinking about him, what she wanted to do to him, what his moans of pleasure would sound like, and how he would taste brought her very near to orgasm.  At last, she heard the light knock at her backdoor.  Her heart pounding and hands shaking with a cold sweat, she reclined on the sofa so as to make his first impression of her enough to render him speechless.  She didn’t want him to talk, not with his mouth, she had other plans for that aperture.  She rose slowly and grabbed him by his shirt and kissed him deeply with her tongue thrusting in and out and all around his tongue.  All the while she was smelling him, tasting him, drinking him in; placing her hands down into his pants, she felt the hardness of his cock.  Undressing him, she stroked his tastiness awhile until she couldn’t wait any longer; she put her lips and tongue on the head of his cock, and licked him all around and tickled the small, tight piece of flesh that strained with desire on the underside of his head.  Looking for the tell-tale signs of his restraint, she saw the tiny drop of white sweetness as it appeared on his tip.  She lapped it off and then proceeded to lick him like a popsickle, swirling her tongue over and around the tip of his cock while she applied suction-like pressure on the down-strokes.  She deep-throated him and cupped his balls and felt them rise up and harden inside him.  He moaned with pleasure and that was what made it all worthwhile-that, and what was to follow.  She led him to her bed and instructed him to position himself on all fours.  Nervously, but willingly, he complied.  She knelt down behind him and began to kiss and lick his beautiful ass.  Working her way over, she began to lightly lick and tickle the sensitive areas between his cheeks.  She was so turned-on by his moaning which in-turn encouraged her own uninhibited instincts causing her to lick lower and lower until she felt the small, tight circle of his butthole.  Licking up and down and all around, she gently inserted her tongue into his most sensitive of g-spots and he moaned with such pleasure that she thought she would explode.  Reaching her hand forward and gently stroking his dick, she thrust her tongue in and out of his butthole while rubbing and lightly squeezing him until he could stand it no more and erupted in glorious and exhilarating orgasm.


Part VI: Her Turn…



so you want to be a writer? by Charles Bukowski

if it doesn’t come bursting out of you

in spite of everything,

don’t do it.

unless it comes unasked out of your

heart your mind and your mouth

and your gut,

don’t do it.

if you have to sit for hours

staring at your computer screen

or hunched over your


searching for words,

don’t do it.

if you’re doing it for money or


don’t do it.

if you’re doing it because you want

women in your bed,

don’t do it.

if you have to sit there and

rewrite it again and again,

don’t do it.

if it’s hard work just thinking about doing it,

don’t do it.

if you’re trying to write like somebody


forget about it.

if you have to wait for it to roar out of


then wait patiently.

if it never does roar out of you,

do something else.

if you first have to read it to your wife

or your girlfriend or your boyfriend

or your parents or to anybody at all,

you’re not ready.

don’t be like so many writers,

don’t be like so many thousands of

people who call themselves writers,

don’t be dull and boring and

pretentious, don’t be consumed with self-love.

the libraries of the world have

yawned themselves to


over your kind.

don’t add to that.

don’t do it.

unless it comes out of

your soul like a rocket,

unless being still would

drive you to madness or

suicide or murder,

don’t do it.

unless the sun inside you is

burning your gut,

don’t do it.

when it is truly time,

and if you have been chosen,

it will do it by

itself and it will keep on doing it

until you die or it dies in you.

there is no other way.

and there never was.



* this always encourages me when I am feeling as if I don’t have what it takes or that I have nothing original or edifying to share because it often comes “bursting out of me” and “it comes unasked” and it is just like that…DWD



The Tangent

It’s so easy for me to go off on a tangent; it is in my nature to overdo everything that captures my attention.  This state of mind will prevail until I hit saturation or until I discover some flaw, or some disappointing detail about my current obsession.  Until that time, however, forget about it!  If you are anywhere close to my latitude and longitude, you are going to get an ear-full, or in this case, an eye-full.  I want to compare it to the revolutions of a hamster wheel but these tangents go somewhere; I consume the object of my affections until I have learned anything and everything about my subject.  This is not a futile undertaking and I am known to log some pretty impressive mileage!

Take for example the time that I became enamored with Oscar Wilde (truthfully, I still love him!).  Everything that entered into my little world was sifted through the sieve of Wildean philosophy.  You see, Oscar had a keen perspective on the laughably serious condition of humanity: he knew that we could never be what we wanted others to think that we were.  That insight, in and of itself, is an irony because in the attempt to fool others with our fictitious persona, the only one being fooled is ourselves.  Oscar knew that people rarely revealed their flaws and that fact alone was their greatest character deficiency.  At the same time, Wilde knew what it was like to be different and to embrace his unique characteristics by embracing them through his art and he prudently hid those which he knew society would never accept (his homosexuality).  The Portrait of Dorian Gray was a masterpiece of psychological insight into the temptations of life that keep us on edge, and therefore make us feel more alive, and at the same time slowly erode our innocence and purity which are the very things that make us truly beautiful.  Most would never dare to engage in the activities that our fantasy worlds encompass and for those who do, the consequences will reveal themselves in time.  There are no exceptions.

Another obsession I have saturated myself with is that of D.H. Lawrence.  I had to know everything about him.  What an inconspicuous-looking man to embody such a sensuous and passionately erotic nature!  I wanted to know what his life was like and how a young man from a relatively poor working class family became such a courageous and skillful narrator of erotica during the last breaths of the Victorian Era.  He obviously knew women and this knowledge appears to have been an instinctual, almost innate, frame of reference.  When reading Lawrence, I can feel my heart pounding and my hands shaking…I tingle in my girlie parts as he sets the stage for sex; the spark that is ignited from the combination of literary licentiousness and my imagination knows no bounds!  I love that Lawrence!

Lately, I have become enamored with Charles Bukowski (surprise, surprise!).  I can’t seem to get enough of his raw and edgy prose.  Bukowski challenges me to remove my high-heeled slippers and to take a walk across the path strewn with broken glass and to feel the pain and its consequent relief that defines so much of the human experience.  The pretensions of culture were a slow-death to Bukowski’s art and the temptation to suffocate pure and uncensored humanity with the addition of literary  mechanics and proper grammar were an insult.  Reading Buk, I experience the swirling and ceaseless meanderings of a littered mind that exists within the ugliness of the human experience.  And in its beauty.  Despite Bukowski’s vulgar and crass language (women are “cunts” and men are “cocksuckers”), he had no lack of female companionship and accumulated a loyal following of admirers and friends.  Ripping the chest open to reveal the heart that beats within is what Bukowski did best and my thirst will never be quenched!

So I live among these Walter Mitty paradigms of fantasy and as I dissect and digest the larger-than-life bits of humanity, the words of these authors pierce my mind and soul.  Within their uncompromising arrangements with life, I find my existence through each word and my validation through each emotion that is cajoled and caressed out of hiding.  Yes, I do go off on a tangent now and then and although I enjoy the trip, it’s always good to come home!


Cunnilinguine: The Art of Al Dente

Al dente.  The perfect state of completion.  The trick to its attainment is to view the process as an art: subjective, emotional, profound, and above all else, an experience of pure pleasure.  If performed skillfully, there is absolutely nothing else like it in this human existence.  Unlike the mastery of other forms of pleasure, the one who pursues this option will be rewarded with demands for more and a solid place in the halls of skillful lovers.

Nothing is worse than attempting to consume a repast that is not properly prepared, or has been served prematurely. The foreplay of successful appetite preparation is extremely important and should not be rushed.  Oftentimes, before I make ready to enjoy this epicurean delight, I have played scenarios over in my mind and eagerly looked forward to its pleasures long before I have been given the opportunity to experience its delights. Therefore, the time-consuming act of adequate preparation cannot be over-stated.  When the object of desire has reached its boiling point, the addition of a lubricant (very important) will guarantee that each individual portion of the repast will not cling together but will instead separate and yield quite easily to allow insertion of the culinary instrument.  Once each section has been properly examined, circulated, and agitated, the boil will resume and an appropriate cooking time will need to be set, say…10-11 minutes..?  Once each section is accorded the appropriate attention and is ascertained to be cooked to perfection, you may then proceed to serve up the main course by the folding-in and rolling over and over of the coup d’etat  which will result in immediate capitulation and blissful surrender of the cunnilinguine and the ecstasies of the ultimate dining experience.

Anyone for seconds?!

Lying Naked in Flannel Sheets

One more holiday to go and it’s officially 2016!  I am trudging my way through the busy-ness that assaults my life during this time of year and I am yearning for the comfort of my bed and my flannel sheets!  With the holidays comes traveling, strange beds, going here and there incessantly, and all other kinds of frenetic activity; my soul, my mind, require down- time in order to function properly and nothing but lying absolutely naked, and enveloped within the womb-like comfort of my flannel sheets, can satisfy.

I arrived home late last night and I could hear the whisper of my beloved bed calling to me; in fact, the last hour of travel was spent fantasizing about crawling into my sanctuary, my cocoon of comfort and respite.  As soon as all of the essential tasks were complete, I headed for the reward of all of my efforts: my bed.  There is nothing like the sensation of unimpeded skin, surrounded within the embrace of flannel, to stimulate the hedonistic pleasures of pure, tactile nakedness.  It just feels so good!  I can honestly think of nothing more satisfying and comforting when alone.  My senses become completely engaged as I crawl into my petal-scented, pure-cotton flannels and the thrill of soft warmth assaults every exposed area of my body.  I can hear the crinkle-crunch of my down comforter as I savor contentment in every taste bud.  Bliss.  I burrow down into the pleasure and safety of my beloved bed and all of the world, for a time, goes away…




Sunday Musings

I woke up excited this morning because it was Sunday!  This is the day that I have devoted to posting on this blog whatever crazy, silly, reflective, or creative thoughts that come into my consciousness.  Today, I woke up thinking about why I love sex so much and why I am so preoccupied with the subject.  Besides the obvious benefits, what is it specifically that drives my thoughts and desires…?  Have I merely succumbed to the mammalian instinctual drive (even though I no longer pro-create) or is there something deeper to this sensual experience?

My thoughts were swirling on this topic while I was reading a piece written by Camus on the tendency to view busyness as a prerequisite of a full and productive life.  However, the activities with which we humans often routinely engage as a part of our daily lives, are often mindless; in other words, we travel through most of our day on auto-pilot.  In fact, the majority of hours that I spend as a “paid employee” are exactly that: automatic.  I cannot begin to count the days that I have looked at the clock in surprise because of the lateness of the hour (my job is very hectic at times) and how the time seemed to have “flown-by.”  Camus challenges this phenomenon by offering the perspective that we waste the majority of our preciously fleeting moments of life with this type of out-of-body activity.

So, what does this have to do with sex?  It is true that when I am anticipating an encounter, my mind is often not in the present moment but is instead thinking about the pleasures to come; while I am preparing my body and my specifically chosen garments, I am almost always thinking about the look of pleasure and anticipation upon his face.  I also think about how I want to set the stage for his first glimpse of me in order to further provoke our appetites.  However, once all of this has come to pass, I am fully, irretrievably, and unreservedly, in the present moment.  During sexual, sensual pleasures, I am fully in the dimensional space of that sensation, that activity, that excitement, and the enjoyment that I am bringing to my partner and myself.  I purposefully take note of each of my five senses and I deliberately involve each one in the experience; I am fully cognizant of being in a continuum where time does not exist and the outside world, for a time, has disappeared.  The glorious experience of sex is escapism in its most relevant function.  To lose myself in a timeless and weightless space of sensual delight, is for me the highest form of human expression which is not permitted to exist in any other dimension than that of the present.

Primitive Rhythms

I participated in the most unusual experience last night: I went out into the middle of the desert with a group of people and beat a drum to the setting sun.  The purity and humbleness of the Native American drums when combined with the sound of the aurora drums, was magical and time-travel mysterious.  Very soothing and sensual, I became aware of the rhythms and vibrations which helped my mind and body ease into a more primitive and relaxed state.   The setting sun positioned itself against the backdrop of purple desert mountains and it was as if I could feel the awareness of an old soul in union with a former dimension of raw naked life, amidst raw naked beauty.

I wasn’t certain what kind of humans participated in this weekly gathering, maybe some old hippies or New-Agers…?  I am willing to try anything once, so I came with some friends and an open mind; turns out that the people were completely average, no hippies or witches, and they gather once per week to release the stresses of modern life and to embrace the simplicity of the musical heart beating to the rhythms of nature.  In an age when everything has become so complicated, the unencumbered and raw sounds of beauty are most welcome.  I just might try it again…?

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