On the topic of masturbation–I have often explained to people, (who are usually confused when I do) that my fantasies are not typically very scenario-based. Maybe it’s because I never watched porn, or maybe it’s for some other reason, but I used to only see shapes and colors when I came. It was really beautiful and surreal. Now I think about people more. Sometimes people I know. This is an actual journal entry from a little blue book next to my bed. I wrote it after I was masturbating in a sort of dream-like state remembering someone, and then it started to rain. And there was a thunderstorm while I was coming. SO I had to write it down. Because how many times in life is that going to happen? Good orgasms might be paired with lightning and thunder as strong analogies but when in life are does that that pairing come literally? To have that coordinated? The word ‘awesome’ is unfortunately overused but this was truly awesome:
You are sleeping inside me. Like smoke in some straw except the rain brings you out instead of putting you out. It pounds a fire into my abdomen. Tonight, like with many nights I thought of you – up against a tree, or that shed, but free as if without gravity, we fucked into the sky and the down pour began and my skylight rattled in my room like a million little feet across it. We were on the beach again –where you ran after me that one night, and in the sand and in the rain. Suddenly and you said- what you said that night and nothing more– back to the tree. I don’t remember. Just you. You inside me. That’s all and our bodies. I can’t imagine all of yours only the way you enter and move me. Couldn’t even really remember the consistency of your hair, because I’ve never really grasped at it that way. The one time we- we were so scared that we made ourselves drunk. I wouldn’t need to would I? The rain- the elastic of a bend, into you, through me, and a rhythm and I couldn’t hold it or ride it any longer. I start to let it go inside of me, flow through me. Now I know we are on the beach because I am the water, and above me- Here back in my room by your magic, though you may not even know or think of me now- lightning- real lightning flashes across my face, mid swell, before the crash, swell in marvel and then- with the crash- thunder. Thunder, low and rumbling. You. You make my eyes weary and my lips and my tongue sting with them. Because I am sleepless for you. One day you will. Won’t you?
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