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What is sex?

Today in a facebook group, someone posted this topic.  What is sex, what is virginity?

Of course, for an adult, this is on the surface an absurd, juvenile question.  It reminds me of my teenage years, when us young folks would practice cunni and fellatio and call ourselves ‘technical virgins’.  ha.

However, perhaps as we grow older and mature sexually, the question changes, and as ever, challenges our self-image.  The questions change, and become more complex.

What is sex?  What is love?  What is fucking?  Where is the line?

What sex do I like?  Do I want to brutally take her?  Do I caress her softly?  Do I kiss her on the lips before a sharp whipping?

One of my most valuable lessons came after asking myself the question:  how do I know, when to make love to her tenderly, and when to fuck her brains out?

Time passed, and the answers, I found, came out of only one source.

Intuition.

And instinct.

To trust myself, and back myself.  What to say, what to do, how to act.  Action in the presence of a woman.  Hardness and softness.  All of it.  Intuition and instinct.

I think this is something born within every man, but it takes longer to cultivate.  When I think about it, I disparage every piece of “relationship advice” for men I read.  It’s rubbish.  It misses the point.  We should not be giving them answers to trivial relationship problems, we should be cultivating masculine power.

Forget all you read.  Throw out all the “6 steps to looking sexy” articles.

Listen to your body.

Feel it in your cock and balls.

Watch what her body is telling you.

This is sex.

It is the moment when she opens in your presence.  And then you strike.  And you penetrate.

After a while, physical sex is a joyful play.  Orgasms become trivial.

Deep penetration… ah now.  That’s what I am looking for.

Cumming so hard your back breaks in half.  Do you yearn for your body to stretch to shreds?

Piercing her mind with words.  Do you yearn to be driven mad with invading thoughts?

Shattering her heart with songs.  Do you want your chest to burst?

Melting into her soirit with endless cum.  Do you want your soul to be pierced with light?

This is sex.  It is not a random set of ideas, definitions, orgasms.  It is penetration that shatters all that once was, what made you who you were.  It leaves your body limp and lifeless, gasping for breath.  Your body emerging, sweating heat, blood filled with cum.  Yes, sex that destroys you and forces your world to change.  That is sex.

It’s interesting to me to witness the awareness of the masculine-feminine dynamics.  It has almost become a catchphrase that has come into use, a kind of fallback to explain the travesties that we experience as men and women.

The first time I saw these expressions in a contemporary setting was at a business/self-development conference.  I opened the provided workbook and saw it in the relationships section.  Written in cold hard ink, printed onto the page.  It almost made me sick to my stomach.

What bothered me was not the content itself, but how painful it had to be to learn it so cerebrally.  It reminded me how far away from out naturally selves we had come as a species, to had forgotten something so basic and fundamental.  As though we had forgotten how to breathe.

I for one, had to struggle deeply and look deep into my soul.  It was a strenuous experience, reaching in to grasp my dormant power, shredding my own skin to tear out the vesicles of artificial living.  It is a process of necessary pain, to birth that beast inside.  We are shrieking in the silence, the darkness, to find that space for ourselves.

And yet, to my own knowledge, I believe that we are going about it the wrong way.  For one, writing it onto a piece of paper, thinking about it, talking about it.  It is a path to ultimate wankhood.  It bothers me when I see men and women discuss it so openly, talking about it constantly.  I can see the work they are lacking, the pain that they are yet to endure, to feel, writhing within.

Feeling the dynamics of our masculine-feminine is a painful process.  It lies deep under layers and layers of subconsciousness.  In those depths, there are levels of horror and agony that cannot be expressed in words, at its centre a feeling of bliss that cannot be expressed in consciousness.  It is absurd to even put it on a piece of paper.

The way forward, I believe, lies in meditation.  Not meditation in the traditional sense.  Rather a meditation in which something is conceived so deeply, with so much penetration, it becomes it opposite.  When my masculine aura becomes distinctly feminine.  It is a place where I look into myself, pierce myself, use my sexual forces to implode myself.  Then I find who I am, the dynamics within, and from that place, I feel my power force outwards.

That moment when the beast awakens.

It all comes to focus.  Yes.

I am talking about that magic moment when everything becomes clear, simple, and elegant.  It is hunger, and it is bloodlust.

It is that moment when the sexual power implodes into itself.  A moment, roughly 20-30 days into a period of sexual cultivation.  This is what we were meant to feel as men.

Keep it simple, and stay silent.  No more need to speak of it.  You will see.  It will raise you.  Things won’t be able to touch you, to harm you.  But oh, how you will go out for it.  With passion.  With love.  With power.  With vigour.

What if arousal was a state of being?

Not just a moment of fleeting carnal desire.  Rather, a slow, brooding consciousness.

Not tearing a hole in your mind’s eye, wrought with passion.  Rather, a slow, controlled brooding, peeling back the layers, a process of meticulous penetration.

This is arousal as a state of being.

After days of practice, this is the beginnings of transmutation.  Focus and presence.  That is what it turns into.

Joice Esotica

It’s been 30 day since I left the beautiful Joice Joker, back to the other side of the world.  I miss her dreadfully.

I gave myself a few weeks to grieve her loss, and to feel the reality of her absence.  It still hurts, but it is nigh time to push forward towards that horizon.  Firstly, a bit of clarity.  We decided that my departure was best, considering the options on the table.  It was to either stay, or unite our names in matrimony.  It was on the table for a very long time.  In the end, we realised that autonomy and independence are our most precious values.  It was not an option for us.  A crushingly painful decision to have to make, but the correct one.

I will not lie, it has been dreadfully difficult for the pair of us.  Churning emotions, leaden melancholy, and many fearful thoughts have popped up.  It has been a challenge confronting this with utmost honesty, but I believe we are doing this with a certain beauty and integrity.

First time for everything, right?

Indeed, as I sit here writing this, I can only reflect on the many lessons of the past few weeks.  Indeed, the past year has been a period of stupendous growth.  What makes this piece different is it focuses on the end, the breakdown of a relationship.  It is a difficult topic indeed, because we tend to run away from the pain of loss.

Don’t.

Our greatest lessons emerge from times like these.

Here are 7:

  1. Everything has an end.  A relationship ends because someone is driven away by one of two basic impulses.  The first is fear, the second is dread.  Break through the former, but yield to the latter.  Fear is your response to challenge, that there is something beyond that you do not understand.  Do not run from fear, or you are a coward.Dread, on the other hand, is a sense that you are pressing onto a path that is not your life’s purpose.  Alarm bells will begin whispering into your soul, telling you that this is not what you are meant to be doing.  Listen to this.  Suppressing this warming will only lead to torture.
  2. Presence is everything.  We all have a fear of abandonment, that someone will leave us because we are not good enough.  I have discovered that it is particularly acute in women.  When a relationship ends, do everything in your power to remain present.  Never run, even when it becomes difficult. 
  3. Listen, and take care of your partner’s heart.  When someone’s path in life tells them that a breakup is needed, sometimes our crazy heart does a few flips.  That’s okay, it’s part of living.  Learn to seep into your partner’s body here.  This is essential.  Even at the end, show that the relationship was based on trust and understanding.
  4. Pain is another form of love.  If the love was immense, so will be the grief.*sigh…*
  5. Be prepared to confront your dark side.  It always happens when we have emotions writhing away in our bodies.  It tends to push the messed up parts to the surface.  Take this from a man who has spent a few weeks suddenly struck by waves of self-loathing.Most breakups end badly because we are not taught how to deal with this.  We become overcome, and we blame ourselves or our ex-partners.  A breakup is the ultimate test to your emotions, and you will need to be at your best to confront it.
  6. If the love is real, then the connection  will never die.
    A moment for me to sneak in a little message to my girl.My dearest Diana, what a devastating force you were.  Your eyes, your lips, and your flesh.
    My body is heavy, yearning to sink into your skin once more.
    It will happen again.  It is inevitable.
    Always, us, poised; for you to fall and for me to crumble.
    My love, I will see you again.
  7. You are always, always, deserving of love
    Always.
    Forever always.
    As you read this, remember this.
    Your heart expands.
    Your sex enraptures.
    Breath and life will always be cherished.

Grief is the doorway to a man’s feelings — Robert Bly

Grief is the place from which this piece is written.  What is important is the idea that every man reaches rock bottom, every man reaches breaking point.  This is essential for who we are as men.

Grief then, is essential to connection, to touch who we really are.

It guides us on a path of deeper understanding, showing us the nuances of ourselves that we run away from.  In grief, we connect with our pain, fear, sadness, joy and love.  From the ashes of grief we rise, we blossom, we stand tall and we expand.  From there we take action, and we build.  We move, we nurture, we conquer and we grow.  We stride forward from the thunder in our chest.  This is what makes a man powerful.

But all of this, only if he crumbles into his own grief.  A man’s true power lies in his weakness.

And what a bottomless chasm of despair.  Loss, loneliness and mortality.  Lessons, all, in humility.  Until we as men connect to this pain, we are trapped in a space of arrogance and disconnection.  The slings and arrows of a painful life teaches us to be humble.

And this is where this piece is written.  Merely the first few steps out of grief.  Watch and observe the energy change.

Hot for my girl.

What drives me there?  As a man.  To reach out, eager to strike?  To breathe, groan, my eyes bewitched by her presence.  What is it?

When I look over at her, her figure swaying, lips full, eyes piercing.  Dancing in living, skin glowing in the sunlight.  What is it that catches my eye?  The curve of her hips, the way she moves?  I have seen it much, very often.  Lingering scent in my nostrils.  Familiar.  Her gorgeous legs in a perfect outfit, capturing the shape of her body.

I have seen off of this before.

What is it then, that slays me.  Each time.  What drives me back?

It is not her beauty, though she is most lovely.  It is not her sweetness, her voice, her fire, her body.  Not the way she seduces the air she walks in.

It is all of this, and none of this.

The essence of her womanhood, flashing and slashing, a chaotic rainbow of strobing lights.  The woman I love, swirling through the fires of daily renewal.

Seductress, siren, sorceress.

A whirlwind of carnal vapours, shimmering in her skin.  Changing her every day.  That she can fall into it, surrender into herself.  Her blood beating new blood.  Never alike, always reborn.  Explosive, piercing, sorrowful, loving, motherlike, nurturing.  Never a day alike.  Always, my teeth on edge, my chest gripped with longing, excitement.

A woman’s sex is all mental.  Everything lies in her experience.  In her immersion.  When her body, her soul, her spirit is engulfed in a wave of crashing ecstasy.  Warm, warped, heated, burnt.  Sear her skin with a burning fire and all things change.  Everything changes.

Do not focus on the physical, the technique.  All of your actions are whispers.  What is essential is the sharpness of intent.  Raw, brooding action.  And reaction.  A man’s movement is to be an expression of compassionate, as well as passionate, force.

7 ways to fuck a woman’s mind, in no particular order

  1. Softly, sweetly.  Almost serene.  For all her thorns and daggers, every woman holds a fragile part.  She hides it, for fear of finding herself vulnerable.  Caress her, whisper into her ear.  Softer than the faintest, gentlest touch.  Tender words whispered in her ear.  More than just words.  A sweet song, embers; roaring heat drifting from a fire into her ear.
  2. Assertive.  A delicate, yet crude dance.  A hand wrapping around her hips and turning her front towards you.  A softness and a firmness.  Care taken whilst taking what you want.
  3. Swiftly.  A firm grip that pulls her backwards and penetrates her in a whirlwind of motion.  Footholds lost, hips a swinging fulcrum.  Vapours of a gasp disappearing in a flash of movement.  A jolt, a shake.  Sharp, sudden. piercing.
  4. Slowly, strongly.  Firm hands digging into limbs.  A tight grip pinning down wrists.  Slow, forceful movements.  Contemplative.  Deliberate.  Thumbs pressing into soft thighs.  Hips open like hinges.  Complete presence in the stillness.
  5. Painfully.  Cruel nails grinding down the sides of her ribs.  Gripping onto the bone of her hips.  Digging into the soft flesh of her waist.
  6. Animalistic.  A deep, unconscious rhythm from deep in the spine.  Rising to the surface.
  7. Lovingly.  Penetrating, a thunder of emotion crunching through the eyes.

My girl.

I look for my inspiration as I write this.  And she is right next to me.  Nude, cuddling up under thin sheets, she lies next to me.  The fabric sits atop her frame, gently betraying the light curvature of her body.  Curled up under those blankets, she seems to me a sweet, innocent angel.

Until she erupts in waves of ecstasy.

Still in the midst of her dreams, a deep aching rises to the surface.  A gasp, a hum, and her limbs dance in the grip of erotic slumber.  Her eyes shifting rapidly in her sleep.  Whispers of silent conversation.  She is fantasizing.  She is dreaming.

This is my girl.  Good god, Am I crazy about her.

What is the most beautiful part of a woman’s body?

I am a man.  Apparently this means that I am visual.  Yes, I suppose I am.  And I suppose I am meant to come up with the typical answers.

Tits.

Ass.

Legs.

But I can only come up with one answer:

To me, the most beautiful part of a woman’s body is the small of her back.

Yes, that’s right.

The small of her back.

The curve above her hips, and around her waist.

At first, you may think that this is strange.  And I wouldn’t blame you.  After all, what’s there to really play with?  It’s just a curve.  But that’s the point.  There is much more about the small of a woman’s back than simply sliding my hand around her side.  You see, that place tells me the way her body moves.  It is hard to describe.  But once I noticed it, it was impossible to ignore.

The way she moves tells me how free she is.

How free she is tells me how open she is.

The more open she is, the more likely she is to bend her spine backwards and cum.

This is something I found from experience.  It is a beautiful thing to behold.  Observing the way she walks.  Sensing her body melt with touch.  Watching her hips dance playfully against my jeans.  And finally, explosively, feeling the grip of her orgasm on my body.

All from the small of her back.

To Be Continued