and yeah the fear

and yeah the fear comes in every which form.





or is it fear of bliss

I walked in through the veil of embarrassment.

Into a room where I am surrounded by lovemaking and that’s what it takes for me to demonstrate my love for myself and to explore the space of aloneness

all a roundabout way of saying that I get off on others fycking and love to indulge mirror masturbating and the flirtation with submission to mirror masturbation to heal this feeling that you’re describing.

that very one…and I tease myself toward the idea that I can only get at that if I masturbate and don’t lick suck or fuck. masturbation celibacy. I love the music of those words, the nuance I reflect me, and I’m terrified too and I somethings think — this is it…

I display my indulgence and consume my dried seed and grunt where I can be heard, naked, daring every once in a while to look into my eyes in one of the many reflections – seeing my face as I fuck myself and being open to examination

milking my pleasure to the spot where I produce semen to their lovemaking and suck myself up and display my full mouth to them, and then to him. I want to show a man my mouthful of my semen after he’s just let himself go into a women I love. I want to show every man.

I understand.

I feel within this I am searching to heal my precipitous abyss of self

that you described –

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