can’t hold back

March 22, 2020

I love that moment when you reach the edge and can’t hold back any longer. Your mind just folds-up like an umbrella as your cock spasms with a life of its own in my hand.

Some say that the “ache for home lives in all of us.“ As I am falling deeper and deeper into onanism, a lot of spaces around me are gradually becoming home: public toilets, McDonald’s under tables, hotel rooms. The itch is then guiding me to one of these homes. It also keeps building new homes for me. Homes in which I feel safe, I feel welcomed, and in a lot of pleasure. Sounds good, but this is also the worst part of the addiction.

How can someone say no to this?! How can someone who has been refused all these things all her life can destroy them when she finally got them?! HOW?! I can easily say “No!“ to onanism, as I said to sex. But I can never say “No!“ to having a home. I think that’s the issue with most addictions: in order to get “cured“, we need to destroy that “ache for home“. We need to become homeless…

I call my toys after writers, both males and females. Today I fuck myself with Celan, with Akhmatova, or Bukowski…With one of them, or with 2, with 3. Later in the day, or tomorrow I’ll change the names, I’ll have others over. I have a few toys, but I want to get so much more. I want to organize huge literary orgies in which my body and my flesh will be at their disposal. I’m already their slave…Have been so long before I became an onanist. Falling in love with their words and their worlds saved me.

When my onanist lust starts to gradually grow inside me, I feel how every cell in my body slowly transform itself into a clit, into a nipple, another cunt, another raging leaking hole… I touch my neck, my ear, my lips, and I feel burning. My arms, my neck again… I finger my fingers, I kiss my own mouth, I whisper in my own ears. I start shacking, my vision blurs, I can’t hear well anymore, I start to droll from everywhere. No matter where I am, I start to retreat from reality, to run away, to disappear. If I cannot masturbate right where I am, I’m becoming increasingly desperate and looking for home. It’s force of attraction is unbearable. My breathing gets heavier, I’m starting to sweat, to melt, to grunt. As I walk I put the belt of my purse over one of my breasts, and start to rub my nipple with it. That doesn’t help at all, but I cannot fucking stop, it’s pleasure, pleasure, pleasure…My mouth is full of saliva, my cunt is under water, I feel my clothes rubbing against my skin and my ears are ringing. I wish I’d have a horse-sized dildo right there so I can impale myself. Maybe the itch will go away. I put my purse in front of my belly so I can finger my navel. It doesn’t bring relief, but the opposite. Bad idea, though the only idea.

I know a bookstore in the city where they have real toilets, not booths. It’s my home away from home (or one of them). I’m heading there, almost crawling, as all my energy and force gets sucked by desire. It’s hot outside, and I hate it! Between me and that toilet there is a gigantic swamp, and I have to cross it. I have to survive, somehow. I’ve done it before, I have to be able to do it this time too. But with every time it gets more difficult. When the urge hits, it hits hard. At the beginning, when I was just getting into all this. I was able to go on for days and weeks with that lusty feeling inside me, without doing anything. Now, I’m completely enslaved. It controls me, my soul belongs to it.

I want to sit on the ground, right there, rip my clothes off, spread and start fisting myself. I don’t care about anything anymore, I just want to make the itch stop, I want to get delirious with pleasure, I want I want I want I want!!!! I can’t breathe…

Keep walking!, I keep telling myself Your home is not that far anymore… Your home is not that far anymore…

I finally manage to cross the proverbial swamp, the imaginary yet equally equally real rest of the city that separated me from the home I need so desperately to get inside. My cunt leaks so much I look like a peed on junky, I am a junky, an onanist junky about to enter in a coma from prolonged lack of masturbation! I need to fuck myself more that I need to breath, more than I need to…FUCK! I’m fucking dying, but I’m finally here! The bookstore with its toilet rises in front of me…Get in, NOW!

Door opening, door closing – our lives, everybody’s lives in two minimal moves. Then we die. The door closes for the last time. In between, hell with pockets of paradise. I want to die impaled in toys, still spasming with orgasms hours after I’m declared clinically gone-for-good, on the morgue’s table, under the mortician’s knife. He cannot cut me, I’m moving too much, I’m cumming to violently, I squirt everywhere yet I’m dead dead dead where the fuck am I?! Oh yes the bookstore. I’m in so much lust, I need to masturbate so badly I forgot I’m here to masturbate. The toilet is near, I can smell it with my cunt. This is how I feel a home is close, my cunt sense it, my flesh, my whole body, my skin, all my holes start dancing and I cannot say “no“, I cannot say “stop!“, I cannot say “ENOUGH!“. These are things people with brains say, but I have none. The little that’s left swims in alcohol, and is used to type the pin code at the sex store while buying yet another toy. You need some brain for that too, not much, just enough.

I enter the toilet, drooling, grunting, dying. I let the purse fell on the floor, I pull down my skirt and my soaked pants and finally touch the cunt. I almost scream, that first touch is the most insane thing that can happen, my life has no purpose other that, I have nothing to live for anymore, nothing, 0. I rub few times with drool falling in my blouse, I don’t care, I’m crying with pleasure, frustration, lust, hate, all at once. I’m home!! There’s no world left outside that toilet.

Bukowski was right (how could he not?! He was a home-seeker too): “Find what you love and let it kill you. Let it drain you of your all. Let it cling onto your back and weigh you down into eventual nothingness. Let it kill you and let it devour your remains.”

Some years ago I found what I love. Now, it’s already ruining my life, my body and my mind. It drains me, it clings into me, and it’s gradually annihilating me. Stages of disappearance.

One day, it will kill me…

Goonette
Ghost with Bones

Meanwhile the sky had turned quite thundery, and, with nightfall, huge raindrops began plopping down, bringing relief from the harshness of a torrid, airless day. The sea was loudly raging, out roared by long rumbles of thunder, while flashes of lightning, bright as day, kept brusquely revealing the two pleasured cunts of the now silent girls. A brutal frenzy drove our three bodies. Two young mouths fought over my ass, my balls, and my cock, but I still kept pushing apart female legs wet with saliva and come, splaying them as if writhing out of a monster’s grip, and yet that monster was nothing but the utter violence of my movements. The hot rain was finally pouring down and streaming over our fully exposed bodies. Huge booms of thunder shook us, heightening our fury, wresting forth our cries of rage, which each flash accompanied with a glimpse of our sexual parts. Simone had found a mud puddle, and was smearing herself wildly: she was jerking off with the earth and coming violently, whipped by the downpour, my head locked in her soil-covered legs, her face wallowing in the puddle, where she was brutally churning Marcelle’s cunt, one arm around Marcelle’s hips, the hand yanking the thigh, forcing it open.

Georges Bataille
Story of the Eye

Strip Poker

March 31, 2019

My cousin, me and a girl were playing strip poker truth or dare. Basically you play a hand of strip poker and the two losers take off a piece of clothing, then the loser with the worst hand has to take a truth or dare challenge from the winner. We had been playing a while and I was down to just my tshirt, my cousin was down to just his socks and she was down to her panties and t-shirt. She won and we lost, so I tossed the shirt and was totally naked with a throbbing hard-on and he lost a sock. My hand was lowest so I had to choose truth or dare. Some of the truth questions before had been really personal so I chose dare. I was stunned when she dared me to suck my cousin’s cock while they finished playing until either he lost his last sock or she lost her panties and t-shirt. Everyone had fulfilled their truth or dare up to that point, so I felt like I had to. He turned towards me and spread his legs and I leaned over and went down on him. I sucked his dick for several minutes while she watched, then they started playing cards again. After a few minutes I heard her say she folded and then said she was doing it so she wouldn’t win and I would have to keep sucking him longer. Another long wait while she watched me suck. Then she asked him if he was close to cumming and he said he was. Then she pulled her tshirt off and showed him her tits and suddenly he shot a huge load in my mouth. I gagged but swallowed most of it. When I raised up she had already put her tshirt back on so I didn’t even get to see her tits.

Anonymous

Raw Confessions

dream of vampires

February 9, 2019

The secret a close friend confided to me about her 59 year old grandmother:

“This is something gross for you to cherish. Me at age twelve staying at my gran’s in Portsmouth for the weekend. I’d gone to bed about eleven on Saturday night. Gran was downstairs with this neighbour, a guy from two doors down. He was younger than her. Maybe twenty years younger.

“Anyhow. I got up towards midnight and tiptoed downstairs for a glass of water. Through the partly open living room door I see gran and the neighbour on the sofa playing cards. All of a sudden, gran peels off her blouse exposing her breasts; she wasn’t wearing a bra. It happened so quickly too. It seemed surreal.

“He smiles at her and says, ‘Nice.’ Then he says, ‘Your pick-up.’ Gran takes a card; he takes a card. Gran stands and unzips her skirt.

“I realise they’re playing somekind of strip poker.

“I slip into the kitchen quiet as a mouse and get the water. Then it’s back to bed for me. But I can’t relax. I keep thinking about the game downstairs.

“Unable to overcome my curiosity, I go back downstairs. Gran and the neighbour were both nude. He sits on the sofa, she kneels between his spread legs. He has a hand resting on her bobbing head. And I can’t believe what she’s got in her mouth!

“He’s making these funny panting noises all the while. ‘Keep going,’ he says, ‘keep going.’ And then it’s like he’s having somekind of fit. His whole body shivering and shaking –

“I didn’t know what the hell was happening. It frightened me, I’ll tell you. I ran upstairs for the safety of my bed. Eventually I slept but I dreamt about vampires. Sucking blood from people. It was disgusting.

“Today I know the neighbour was cumming in gran’s mouth. But back then I thought he was dying, and that gran was sucking the life out of him. Gross, eh? Made me dream of vampires”

P

only half-undressed

February 3, 2019

She was there with me in that bed, my old sofa-bed, her hot breath in my ear smelling of peppermint toothpaste, as I thrust into her, stabbing her again and again with my hard body. She was only half-undressed: one tittie was exposed over the cup of her brassiere, the nipple swollen from my sucking at it. Her skirt was up round her waist; her panties wrapped round one ankle.

And when she came that first time, I couldn’t help but compare her to Averill, her daughter. When Averill came it was sudden, a lightning strike, from out of nowhere. But her mother – well, she lay under me, gripping my hips hard between her thighs. She started deep breathing, like air was in short supply, loudly inhaling and exhaling. Then she hissed my name from between clenched teeth, once, twice, before the tsunami finally hit.

It was strange cumming up her and thinking that Averill had come out of her twenty-three years earlier. Fought her way free from where I was now ejaculating. And what of the mother? She knew Averill and I had been intimate friends – possibly lovers. Did she wonder about my cock? Did she imagine it up her daughter? Was it an additional turn-on for her? Is that why she had flirted so much and so often with me? Because I had been her daughter’s closest boyfriend…

Did I make her feel young? I’m sure I did. Once her involuntary spasming muscles relaxed, she pulled off the rest of her clothes.

‘Well, now,’ she said. ‘You’re going to have to do that to me again, young man.’

So I did.

Andrew Peters
Cookbook of Clowns

like glistening eels

December 19, 2018

Sunday show:

Mutely we stare and stare at the frenzied show of two bodies entwining, like glistening eels on the thick Aubusson carpet. Then, so like a gull-cry echoing in a small sea shell, her climax arrives with his final, terrible thrusts.

The Smell of Blood

October 21, 2018

A constant hunger for the pornographic, sex crazed, conversationalists,

Then there’s the rubbing of your clit until it burns like stabbing hot fire and pissing, bursting, cumming for Jesus Christ and fuck sakes for nothing’s,

All the time thinking fill me,
Or,
Fucking kill me,

And bitching like a barking dog, with no Master and no loyalty and no allegiance and no brilliant, radiant, flame except her god damn appetite, which screams in her depths and says nothing of any importance, humping the fucking fire hydrant with no fucking idea,

There’s no physical without emotional, it’s all there, it’s all one,
They all want it,
They all have the same holes,
Point blank,

What’s your oldest memory?
How much pain have you inflicted on yourself?
How much pain have you inflicted on others?
Do you enjoy the smell of blood

Jade Dalton

teasing tongues

May 20, 2018

good friends playing nicely

The first time I had sex with a woman, just her and I, I marvelled at the pace. Sex with men always felt pressing, driven by an intensity that climbed quickly. Sometimes I liked that energy, it made me feel wanted, desired. The rush was fun, like tearing open a present. Other times I felt like we skipped over the good parts, like I could have pressed against him while he kissed my neck for hours. Sometimes I felt like I was trying to catch up, I was too young and inexperienced to say “Slow down.”

The first time I had sex with a woman, and it was just her and I, we kissed for hours. Literally hours. Slow, tender, swollen-lips, hands in our hair, teasing tongues, moans and soft sounds, our hips pressing together, in no hurry but never staying still. By the time I pressed my hand between her legs her panties were soaked right through. That little wet spot made fireworks in my head, my clit throbbed. This was divine. I didn’t pull her cotton underwear aside until she was already close to orgasm, just from my fingertips tracing over the fabric, and her eager grinding against my palm.

After she came we slowed down but never stopped touching each other until she’d had her second, third and fourth. There’s a difference between “I came” and “I’m satiated”. Fucking someone who understood that made sex an entirely new thing. We fucked until we were finished, exhausted and spent. I finally felt satisfied.

The next time a man touched me all I could feel was the energy propelled by his hard-on. The rush that rush-of-blood to his cock put him in. I felt like I wasn’t there.

Heart
Reflections
Queer Enough, 2018

Cum face…

May 21, 2016

cumming

Phaedra: I wanted to see your face when you came.

Hippolytus: Why?

Phaedra: I’d like to see you lose yourself.

Hippolytus: It’s not a pleasant sight.

Phaedra: Why, what do you look like?

Hippolytus: Every other stupid fucker.

Sarah Kane
Phaedra’s Love