Musing

Fourteen years since climbing out of the wreckage, and I’ve never felt more alive—despite the limp, the pain, the aging. Death is a constant companion, sure, but so is desire, vitality, absurd good fortune, and the bittersweet weight of knowing I’m right at the peak.

A momentary lapse of reason about Serena.

Rumi knew something about desire.

More porn thoughts: MetArtX, SexArt and the portrayal of masturbation and sex. More thoughts to follow. Soon.

My porn tastes, and what they do and don’t say about me.

I promise not to overwhelm you with slop. I will, though, try to use AI to help me write better, more creatively, with better reference to what I’ve written previously. If I can figure this shit out…. it should be more better.

After years of D/s relationships, my presumptuous and demanding habits are causing missteps as I start dating older, more experienced women.

I want/need a sub/slave/assistant to help manage the increasing volume of my work and writing. And, my cock.

For years, my dating life was defined by dominance and submission. Now, I’m experimenting with dating women who aren’t arriving with that expectation—this has not been my world, really, ever. I’ve already had a couple of missteps. With these grown-ass women? I’ve been presumptuous, demanding, and narcissistic.

Dreams, dreams, dreams…. They tell a lot about me. But nothing I (you?) don’t already know.