Fear

The addictive elixir of submission.

My “quarantine buddy.”

It is a safe bet that if you are exciting me, turning me on, making my cock hard, you are not alone.

Come with me on a flight to safety. It will make your cunt ache, and my cock, too.

I feel anger. Which means I’m avoiding my sadness and my fear.

Trump has no tolerance for disrespect of him, high tolerance for hatred in his name. Steve Bannon threatens fifty years of Trump, and enthuses “it will be as exciting as the 1930s.” I’m scared.

What’s a bigger threat to the US? Donald Trump? Or the tactics of the anti-Trump movement? I’m genuinely uncertain.

Why peek-a-boo, and blindfolds, are, or can be, fun. But also why they can be over-stimulating.

Upon examination, my anger almost always dissolves into fear.

I’m in pain, with little hope of relief. Ever. And it seems to be producing some intense emotions in me.