Is it possible that a family has something rotten at its core? My family has something like a horror movie woven into the cloth. I don’t want to use the word “evil.” More like diseased. But that sounds like an ableist metaphor. Is this rotten-ness real, and if so, what do I do about it?
I’ve had chronic pain for decades. But I’m a hippie of some kind–I avoid pharmaceutical drugs if I can. Yesterday was my first time taking tylenol for sex. I’m sorry it came to that. But I was in too much pain to cum, and it had been about a week since orgasm, much longer than
I recorded impact sounds and thought you might enjoy hearing them. My spouse was hitting me on the ass, and I had emotional vocal responses. It’s been a stressful time. I need pleasure, to relax and lose myself. We hadn’t recorded anything in a year or so. But we were house sitting and had the
Lately I crave impact. My feelings get stuck in my body. When my spouse hits me, the feelings shake loose and get back in motion, where they belong. Does it work this way for other people? How do you unstick your feelings? My body needs what it needs. I don’t make up the rules. impact
My dad’s suicide has been fucking me in the head lately. I’ve been thinking about death way too much. His death–my eventual death. My mom’s death. My spouse’s eventual death. I’m terrified. It makes me panic in the night, which interferes with my sleep, so then I panic more. I hate all that. grief spiral
I went to my first bdsm sex party. I went there to learn, and I did learn–more than I expected, about myself and others. While I was there and for a day or so afterward, I felt very positive about the experience. I was elated. As the days pass, I feel less positive and less
I used to think of your room as a beautiful, almost magical place that smells so nice, and has those crystals by the door. Just passing by, I was blissed. The place where you rest, where you get vulnerable. Before you left for a trip, you would bring up that your room is available to
When I soaked black lentils on the counter at the same time you marinated tempeh on the counter, I pretended you were my friend. I hope your meal was as delicious as mine. I dodged you in the kitchen as well as I could, no longer crying about your leaving. I’d memorized your departure date,
Hello, I’ve been thinking about how I really felt when my brother said I love you. There was how I thought I should feel, how other people thought I should feel, how I wished I felt, and buried underneath years of abuse and pain, how I actually felt. Takes a long time to find that
I learned a new word: Agrexophilia. It means getting off on other people knowing your sexual activities. I came upon this word while reading a list of kinks. I’d never heard it before. The definition I read mentioned agrexophilia examples of bragging about conquests, playing a homemade sex video online, and having sex in public places.