Category Archives: animal

Roots

 

005

Wolfman by Boris Vallejo

Human (adj): Having or showing those positive aspects of nature and character regarded as distinguishing humans from other animals.

I don’t need love to be delicate touches from the tips of your fingers.  Barely grazing the skin, careful not to bruise.  I don’t need palms upon my breast to cup delicately and massage tenderly.  I don’t need soft lips to lightly kiss my flesh; pressing down onto my skin and departing swiftly without a trace.  I don’t need love to physically manifest itself as society sees it – soft sheets and similar thrusts between the parted legs of a lover.  Whispers of “I love you” waltz though the temperate air.  I don’t need love to be lax stroking of hair and fingers tracing the outline of my face.  I don’t want a mindful body atop, aside, behind or below mine.  Instead, I want you to be inside of and connected to your nature, your true identity; your primal animal.

I want love to manifest itself physically the way I understand it; you and me, dedicated to one another through a mutual understanding of our animal natures.  You are my alpha, the dominant leader of which I obey and allow limitless access to my body.  I am your beta, the one you own, protect and cherish vehemently.  I feel your love through your ownership.  I feel your love through you taking what is yours, and in doing so, love takes a different approach.

I’ve always been drawn to the way you sniff my hair and skin.  The way you’d breathe me in.  You’ve always noticed the slightest different between smells from one day to the next; a change in perfume, a change in body chemistry.  I feel literal heat inside me as you bury your face aggressively into my neck without a care for how your rough whiskers left behind red irritation.  Your lack of delicateness, to me, is a direct translation of your need for me.  Love looks different between us, King, doesn’t it?  Love is the bite to the back of my neck or shoulders sending a fiery streak through my able body.  You sink your teeth deeper into my flesh as your cock sinks deeper within my cunt.  The pressure from your heavy sac against the delicate skin of my sex makes me feel at the mercy of your masculinity.  Your purposeful thrusts indicate a deep need for penetration.  Each thrust into me is another symbol of your power and control over my body.  The harder the thrust, the more I feel your need.  The more you restrict my body movements with your hands or under the weight of your mass, the more I feel loved.  I’ve given you permission to take, at will, and you do.  You take with your hands as the pads of your fingers leave bruising upon my hips.  You take with your lips as they wrap around my hardened nipples.  You take with your tongue as you lick my flesh, leaving the mark of your saliva upon my skin.  You take as you allow your body to manipulate mine, with little regard for my comfort. You take as you don’t allow my choice.

I feel love more passionately as your words transform into unintelligible guttural moans or throaty growls.  I feel love the more you fill me up with your cum.  You push yourself inside of me, causing what you’ve previously left behind to seep beyond the seam of where you and I meet.  I feel love the more I am used; I feel love the more I am marked by you. I feel your love as I lay upon the puddle of our fluids that spilled out of me and collected itself upon the sheets.  I feel our love as some of my hair breaks way from the pull of being interlaced between your fingers for leverage.  I feel love as you press my upper body and face down into the ground or upon the bitter frigid wall.  I feel love as I’m bent to the lengths my flexibility can handle.  Feel love as I ache from your repeated entries.   Feel love as you release yourself inside of me, feeling each kick of your cock against the sides of my plush inner flesh.  I feel love the more my sent transforms into the smell of you.  I feel your love as you stay inside of me, allowing the weight of your body to be supported by mine.  You don’t remove yourself from me, instead allowing your body to decide when your cock departs from within me.  As the heaviness of your now flaccid cock falls from my pussy, a stream of our love trickles out from within.  I feel love the more you make a mess of me.  I feel your love the more you are selfish with me, possess me.

I feel your love with the loss of your human.


Not you, boy…

I could not be tamed. I loped with wild horses and dined with lionesses. I made beautiful work of faux feminism, teeth into the flesh of lesser men. Dinner for a hungry soul in search of the sustenance of a Dominant man. Flip of the hair, curve of my hips; all the while knowing they couldn’t handle this.

They would seep weakness, and I couldn’t be bothered to clean up messes, not for long, not for very long. They tried, they cried, and I thought of nothing but You. 

They said, “I thought I could change you” while smelling Your cologne on my breast. They said, “I can love you better”, while Your love was slipping out of me.

I was told to feel bad about my sins, taught to atone; but, my religion is Him and my God had anointed me. I’d been baptized in His water. I’ve knelt at His feet to receive my confirmation. 

Oh, and they’d seethe because they knew I only worshipped One. I’d only kneel for One. Only submit to One. Only to be tamed by One. You’d have me a tigress on a leash, never having to pull tight. Never having to tug me in, and never having to cry “heal!”  But, they tried; a boisterous laugh escaped my mouth with each attempt to rein. You? Better off someone new; go find someone new, boy…

I cannot settle for a cub whilst craving a lion. I cannot mount a pony when I’ve been atop a stallion. Go ahead and wear any mask you choose, any cloak you deem comfortable; all of your disguises transparent, boy. You have proved entertaining, a jester for a time…

Only one Lord, you see, and He is mine. 


Rain Dominance

Rain

Order me to my knees.  I am sturdy upon my bent legs, finding my greatest strength in my submission before You.  My gaze tracks upwards. I admire Your muscular thighs, mouth agape as my eyes travel to revere Your weighty balls, watching Your cock pulse as blood begins to lengthen You.  The muscular “V” of Your hips forms a beautiful foundation for a ladder of abdominal muscles.  I scan them, one by one.  My eyes play hopscotch as they skip across the ridges of Your stomach.  Eyelashes pressed against my eyelids, dusting just below the arch of my brows.  Your swollen chest heaves with the intoxication of Your will over me.  Your pulse beats a drum in your neck.  I wait patiently for the mark I crave.

I close my eyes and transcend into a mental space far more comfortable than the one I’m forced to exist within during the vast majority of my conscious hours.  A place where You can smell my sex from Your place of superiority over me.  My sweet smell emitting from between my thighs spread wide.  My scent ignites You, as if embers attached to my essence in the air, drifting with purpose toward Your flared nostrils.  Our primal instincts attune to one another’s body with such intensity, we eclipse humanity.  We are our primal best. In this place, we are far superior to the limitations of our human bodies.

You omit dominance as sweat from Your pores, and I find myself in need of more.  I want to feel Your ownership, temperate and tumbling over the curves of my body.  Yours, as I’m splashily painted from the brush of Your body.  Beads meld together atop my shoulders, summersault down my back, and disappear into the crease of my ass.  Your liquid strokes cascade down my breasts and congregate into drops suicidal off the tips of my erect nipples.  You tag my stomach in Your organic mark, a river trailing between the lips of my sex, through my delicate folds, and coming to rest upon the ground below. Tributaries trickle down the front of my thighs, resting in puddles at bended knees.  The smell of You omitting from the tendrils of dampened hair, gathered to sharp points at the sides of my breasts.  I breathe in Your savage animal and exhale Your captive pet.  I kneel, marked as the beasts grace the bush.  Territory.  The fragrance of possession rising off of my ivory skin as steam from a warmed Earth.  The tickle of Your dew grasping momentarily to my folds in a last desperate attempt to resonate upon my flesh.  Owned.

My eyes still cast upward toward You, my King.  You are the Earth, the Sun and the Moon.  I worship You.  I am cloaked in your liquid essence as if wearing a shawl of luminous candlelight glow.  Mirrored upon the amber reflection of my skin, You, My King.  My body and everything encapsulated within it belongs to You.

The bouquet of Your dominance radiates into the air as You drive yourself deep within Your prey.  Your strong hands press into my slick flesh as Your heaving sack slaps aggressively against the folds of my cunt, dispelling the condensation upon the petals of my pussy.  A drizzle from my flesh to the ground below, hands and knees in a puddle of carnal claiming.  My utter submission in every savored drop that once traveled my skin.  Your mark upon my body, I am both for You and made of You.  Baptized in Your dominance, I find sweet submission.

 

*Image courtesy of Pinterest. Photographer unknown.


Fair Play

Warning:  This post is likely to offend you.

I have been absent for a while dealing with the holidays and other work related business.  As I can finally take a breath, I find myself moved to write.  I felt like a zombie there for a while, simply going through the motions and obligations that the holidays bestow upon us.  My creativity was stifled under all the responsibility, but I had time to think about things that I wanted to write about.

I attended a bridal shower yesterday for a close friend of mine.  On her invitation it read, “…is registered at Lowe’s, Home Depot and Target.”  I stared down at the invitation in my hands and thought to myself, “Dear God…How long can you expect a marriage to last if your bridal shower invitation resembles that of a housewarming party?”  I refused to get her a gift of anything she requested, and instead got her a giftcard to a local sex shop complemented by a card that read, “The key to a lasting and happy marriage is an open and mutually thrilling sex life, not a new toaster or 5 horsepower blender.”

I am not a believer in marriage; at least, I should say that I am not a believer in marriage in the traditional sense.  I don’t believe that marriage is the answer for lifelong happiness, family security, and a guarantee for monogamy.  I believe that marriage makes little sense, as it essentially forces individuals into patterns of predictability for the survival of family; meanwhile, society perpetuates a notion of lasting passion and fulfillment.  Passion and fulfillment can certainly be achieved while married, but usually that involves a high level of disclosure and intimacy.  Further, I am not a believer in marriage as our present society would see fit.  I believe that now, more than ever, men are emasculated within the bounds of marriage.  We have begun at young ages to emasculate our boys into behavior akin to females.  We are expecting of men to act as women, boys to act as girls:  Sit still, behave, be polite, don’t dominate, don’t show signs of aggression, and do not be overtly sexual.

We women are highly sexual creatures as well, despite what our society would have you believe.  The most dishonest of behaviors I have seen were displayed from women.  Women can easily secure a reliable man, whilst trolling for a thrilling and short lived tryst between the sheets.  He would be none the wiser, as men often assume that women are happy as long as they are provided for.  Another nod for society on that misconception.  Men typically do not feign well, as they are not as accustomed to operating from a place of dual existence: The “me” I will show the world, and the “me” that I relish within my mind.

You may not like reading this, but I don’t believe that people who cheat are necessarily guilty of anything aside from searching, and in some cases, attaining personal happiness.  The quest for personal happiness is our “right” as we are told; however, we are also told the quest should look a certain way.  Now would be an excellent time to stress honesty, but alas, I will not.  I can completely understand an inherent need for secrecy with the amount of responsibility and stress we have placed upon marriage, monogamy and the necessity to deny our inner desires.  Those who often cry “liar” toward the cheater were the ones most likely to cast judgment upon that person’s sexual desires; or withhold sexual gratification for personal motives; close doors for intimacy and communication that should remain open; and abuse their lover for the same qualities they initially found appealing.  Shame…

My opinion, as it applies to most cases of infidelity that I have experienced or been informed of, stem from a place of rejection.  In my experience, the people most guilty of these slights are the “fairer sex”.  Women are conditioned to believe that sexuality should be used as a means for gain and attainment.  Women are usually guilty of using sex for securing a man, reproduction, financial security, or material possessions.  If she happens to secure the responsible man AND a child – Jackpot!  She has significantly upped her chances of being taken care of for the majority of her life, with minimal effort on her part.  I firmly believe that once those essentials are provided for such women, they proceed to quickly pull the plug on devoting excessive energy to sexual fulfillment and emotional intimacy with their spouse.  Women who express their sexuality freely, for a personal fulfillment void of motive, are often labeled unkindly.  Why?  Because our society is threatened by sexual liberation.  Instead of embracing the fact that we are extremely sexual creatures and monogamy is highly unlikely under “normal” conditions; we buy into the farce that civilization has created for control: Religion.  But, that we will safe for another post…

If monogamy is something you choose to strive for – you had better up the ante.  My husband and I strive for monogamy, and my husband is deliciously territorial.  I permit my husband to express his territorial behavior from the recesses of his mind, because I find it primal and utterly delightful.  Blended within the fibers of our commitment to monogamy is the belief that our marriage didn’t guarantee a thing, aside from joint property ownership.  We understand that in order to beat the odds against our inner nature, we must consistently work toward sexual fulfillment and enlightenment.  We understand that communication is essential, expressing our deepest inner desires and working toward making them a reality.  This can be difficult, as you must be willing to listen despite your own personal “notions” of how things should be.  Certainly, you do not have to agree to fulfill your partner’s every whim; however, I also believe that you cannot expect to have monogamy from that person if their desire is strong.  I don’t believe this should be troubling, instead, I think it should be viewed as freeing.  Do your best and the rest will fall into place as it will.  As I’ve argued before, the more we repress the animal, the more the animal will rise within us.  To convince yourself of anything different is to ignore your evolutionary past.

I feel cheating was justified in the vast majority of situations.  Sure someone gets hurt and it can have lasting effects upon families and such.  As a collective society, we have built unrealistic expectations upon the human, and thus, marriage.  These expectations have long acted as a catalyst for crying victim and mental instability by the person being cheated on.  Aligning your expectations with these societal presumptions is setting yourself up for failure, and will neglect to serve you well, aside from an excuse for your own negligence.  You cannot expect monogamy; instead, you must cherish it within your relationship and work toward maintaining it.  That’s simply the best you can do.

I am so sick of hearing people speak of monogamy as if a guaranteed “right” in their relationships.  You can hope for it, encourage it, and cultivate the best environment possible to maintain it; however, if you don’t continuously strive to maintain it, you should not be surprised if the practice of “monogamy” fails you.  Believing monogamy is in our human nature was your first mistake; believing you are entitled to it simply because you are married or in a committed relationship is your second mistake.

If a person declines to acknowledge their own personal responsibility to cultivating an environment encouraging of monogamy, then I believe they deserve to be cheated on.  I believe that entitlement encourages laziness; the same expression can be applied toward marriage.  A person who believes that marriage guarantees them monogamy is a dangerous partner in life.  It is highly likely that their entitlement will lead to a laziness that will not only stifle your sexuality, but devour your spirit and crush your individuality.  Too often, we expect promises to last a lifetime even as we fail to maintain the environment for which those original promises were made.  I believe cheating is a right in any relationship where a person feels entitled to your loyalty without maintaining their end of the agreement.  Do I feel that you should leave the relationship entirely?  Sure, that is probably a good idea.  However, as a society we have complicated relationships (especially marriages) to aid in trapping people in lifelong commitments.  We have worked for centuries to cultivate these domestic messes and are often victims of our own misplaced assumptions and financial entanglements imposed upon our marriages.  That is our fault and failure as a society.  Blaming a person who cheated and failing to acknowledge how you may have encouraged the “discretion” is your fault.  If you are unreasonable enough to believe in monogamy as a guarantee at all costs, then you deserve to be cheated on for your laziness and unrealistic expectations.

Alas, as I watched roughly 20 women “oooh and ahhhh” at blenders, pots and pans, and a Keurig 2.0, I quietly hoped that my friend would soon realize that her perception of “happily ever after” is already skewed.  I hope that she will encourage open communication between she and her spouse, release her expectations, and begin to appreciate him on a “human” level.  I know she won’t, and I can’t help but surmise that I will hold her hand in the not too distant future as she cries on my shoulder repeating, “He promised me forever…”  I’ll remember how much importance was placed upon the house and not the man.  I’ll remember how her expectations aligned so naively with societal expectations.  I’ll remember how I wrote her a card that said, “I refuse to gift you a household appliance for your bridal shower, and instead, encourage you to tend to your sexual relationship.”

And I’ll know without her ever needing to say that instead of giving her husband unlimited and unrestricted access to her “cake”, she decided to bake one instead.


Animal in Us

 Lion-Love-lions-12265175-858-740

Are we really so evolved?  A question I ask myself frequently as it applies directly to my sex life.

We claim to be so evolved.  In fact, some people associate a sense of pride with being highly evolved, snubbing their noses at anything that resembles simplicity or being reduced to our archaic past.  We attach social rules to instinctual drives and call ourselves civilized for not acting upon those drives.  For example, people feared sexual liberation and their own lack of control over their drives; therefore, the people found it necessary to impose religious restrictions upon sexuality.  But, did we really evolve past the need for mate selection on an instinctual level, or did we simply comply with the established social rules for how to conduct ourselves for assimilation?

And here lies my greatest question:  What’s with the stigma placed on the BDSM community?  The community fuels on a particular application of two basic concepts: Dominance and submission.  Dominance and submission is a basic primal concept: The strongest survive, survival of the fittest, and the desire to find the most suitable mate.  Animals have operated on this basic principle as the essential building block for the survival of their species.  Humans used to operate under these basic codes in ancient civilizations.  I believe the people in this sexual community are simply on a quest to restore natural selection, on the most basic of levels, sexual expression.

In our present society, we are consciously weeding out natural selection.  The natural competitive drives within our young boys are being discouraged on the basis of equality.  Plastic surgery can make those less desirable (with regard to natural selection) suddenly find a place amongst the genetically superior for mate selection.  We have conditioned our society to level the playing fields on the basis of evolutionary strength; we place the strong on a diminished level and the weak at an elevated level, essentially meeting somewhere in the middle.  Although I believe this concept is fair, I feel it has done very little to improve the condition of society as a whole.  I, quite honestly, long for a life where social order is restored.  I long to exist in a place where hierarchy social structure consists with the strongest, most “fit” leadership at the top and the weaker individuals operating a place below.  Amongst the lower levels there lies a hierarchy of power, creating many levels of organized dominance and submission.  The essential problem with this is there will be people who always question and oppose authority.  A society like this would, regrettably, remove the choice of submission for individuals.  The lack of choice promotes passive aggressive overthrow.  The choice to be submissive to a Dominant is one that makes the entire situation flow beautifully.  Of course, negative situations can arise with the intoxication of power, but that is not the point of this post.

Submission had nothing to do with race, sex or gender.  Submission was the relinquishment of power in the presence of a more dominant individual.  Unfortunately, submission was not always a choice; rather, people understood that their need for survival accompanied the servitude of a powerful individual.  In the world of BDSM, submission is a choice.  Submission is a choice that is respected by the Dominant, because the Dominant understands that a submissive’s obedience is a gift.  I know I struggled for a long time to find a man who could handle me.  I could not be tamed, could not be reined in, and could not be reasoned with.  A man would have had to be incredibly dominant, strong, stoic, confident, steady, and respectful to be able to even begin to have my submission.  My point is, I would have searched and searched until I found the most “alpha” dominant man I could to give my submission to.  Had I been with a weaker man, and he was challenged by a more aggressive and dominant man for my affection – I would have given my affection to that more dominant man.  That’s about as animal as natural selection gets, and it’s happening every day amongst us all.  It’s happening regardless of whatever your sexual preference is.  Its happening despite what your religion is, whether you admit it to yourself or not, and whether you ever truly put action to your thoughts.  It’s happening because we are all animals at our evolutionary core.  We will always want what we consider to be the “best” mate for us.  We will all assume our roles of dominance and submission within our relationships to varying degrees, and I believe that to be incredibly healthy.

In my opinion, my relationship with my Dom is classic, perhaps archaic, as it aligns us with that natural essence of who we are as people.  Who we are, together, as evolved animals.  We align beautifully in our assigned roles, because it ignites something innate in us both:  My deepest desire to serve, and be at the mercy of, the most worthy mate possible; and his desire to protect, control, claim and reinforce his territory though his primal (animal) power.  I honestly feel that, if practiced from a place of emotional clarity and psychological health, BDSM is one of the most beautiful representations of returning to our roots.  It’s one of the most beautiful expressions of releasing the veil of social oppression, turning our backs against modern relationships, and turning toward something more basic.

In our basic states of Dominance and submission, we are returned to the animal.  I will use my favorite animal as an example:  The aggression expressed between two male lions in the quest to assert territory over the female lionesses is akin to something you’d see if another man attempted to traipse on my Man’s territory.  He’d die to defend it.  The female lioness is a powerful unit in herself, able to hunt and provide for the pack.  She is capable of survival, but feels she cannot survive without the protection of the lion.  The lion will pick the most genetically superior and strong female to copulate with.  He will copulate with her at his will, as many times as he wants, whenever he wants.  She should not try to resist him, as he will remind her of his dominance over her.  Though she may playfully bat at him, resist his initial advances, she ultimately submits.  Is this any different than a healthy BDSM relationship?  If we are animals at heart, is there anything wrong with someone wanting to find their perfect mate?  Is there anything wrong with dominance and submission, if these principles have been the foundation for evolution as long as life has existed upon the Earth?  Is there anything unnatural about asserting power over someone during a sexual act, as long as that person willingly submits their sexual power to the other?  This seems very basic to me.  Participating in a BDSM lifestyle aligns with something so deep within me that it seems to be ingrained in the very essence of who I am.  It brings me back to my primal past.  It feels as though I evolved into an intelligent, powerful, feminine human being; but, ultimately, I am designed to serve Him.  He is designed to protect and have ultimate power over me; something that he feels is ingrained in every fiber of his being.  Being my Dom puts him in touch with his most primal, animal past.

Modern relationships strip away the element of dominance and submission, placing the couple on equal levels of power in the name of “respect”.  Ultimately, this is a farce as couples will repeatedly and relentlessly fight over maintaining the power in the relationship.  The quest for power is still there and will forever remain in the human species, as we are ultimately animals at heart.  Modern relationships are simply generic boxes containing intense power struggles.  They are externally wrapped in beautiful paper, and aesthetically pleasing to the general populace.  Inside, a kitten.  BDSM relationships are slightly misshaped packages; but, inside they hold the treasures of agreement.  They are wrapped in basic brown paper, having no desire to present something visually appealing to the general populace.  But…

Inside, a lion.


Primal

Photo by: FervidM

Photo by: FervidM

I thrive off of a dark soul.  It’s not that I don’t enjoy happiness, or those who express an elevated state of joy on a regular basis.  As I often say…I don’t think defining a complex mind is that easy.  I am not referencing a depressed person, or someone who has deep seeded pain and suffering which manifests itself in inflicting pain upon others; unfortunately, I see too many of those kinds of people in the world, the kinds of people who bring pain upon others to alleviate what resonates within them.  I’m talking about the obscure soul that clings to the darkness for its beauty, holding tightly though a metamorphosis into something beautiful. The caterpillar to a butterfly.  I understand how deliriously cliché the metaphor, but allow me to explain:  I don’t think butterflies are more beautiful after they have gone through a metamorphosis, rather they are simply more colorful with broader wings.  They still cling to their previous physique, looking rather wormy and unappealing.  They clung to their ugly and became something more beautiful, towing their darkness along with them.  That’s the kind of soul I find nourishing in this vast land of superficial happiness.

I believe the most elevated, mind-blowing, and euphoric sexual experiences exist within the darkness of our psyche.  We hold these beautiful images in our elevated storage, locked away behind the bars of societal acceptance.  These images hide behind the cloak of assimilation.  They are fearful sorts, bashfully crouching in the corner whilst our more “pleasant” visions step forward in the light of acceptance.  If you ask me, it’s those visions I find wormy, unappealing, and void of beauty.  They are shallow, stem from minimal creativity; these visions transform themselves and show their faces proudly in open, observable world.  I fail to find sexual nirvana in a field of yellow daisies, slightly bowing their heads to a gentle breeze.  I find sexual euphoria in a perfect storm; powerful, dark, omniscient and destructive.  I want not a wall to remain, a brick to lie there, or a cobblestone of stoic composure to exist after a sexual experience.  Gives a whole new meaning to making it rain…

I thrive on his animalism.  I drink up his power as if thirsting and stumbling upon a stream.  His desires should radiate from his fingertips upon the collection of my skin, with a purpose so strong it leaves bruises upon my delicate flesh.  He shall paint the canvas of my body with his fingers, bent strongly at the knuckles, leaving red paint strokes of fervor upon my skin.  Ripples of plush breast escape through the separation of those fingers, groping with unrepressed craving.  Five finger pads dive deliriously into the lining of my sensual hips, so deep as if intended to touch finger to bone.  Capillaries merrily collapse under the force. The caterpillar to a butterfly, a mere blood vessel giving itself to the light, revealing the beauty of sensual release.  Wings to new heights.

I ask you to lose yourself in the depths so repressed, not a shred of light exists that we don’t create with the radiance of our own shared desires.  I ask that you go to the place where your “demons” lie, and allow them to find solace in my open arms.  I can taste your desire to overpower me, and I can smell your seething for release.  I know your darkness grasps upon the bars of restraint begging to reveal themselves.  I, lying there, spread myself wide in acceptance.  I will hold them close, bringing warmth upon their chilled negligence.  I will ignite them, invite them, and allow them to permeate my soul to a place of approval.  We only truly exist here; bare, stripped of the collage of expectation that becomes our face, the mask that conceals the true animal.

I will have you so removed from your evolved brain, you render yourself inhuman.  I will have you so primal that you only seek to remove your teeth from my flesh as you notice my body buckle under the pain.  I will have you utter sounds undistinguishable to those civilized.  I permit you to release the power you’ve been told to curb.  I will have your testosterone coursing so gloriously through your veins, you find yourself void of all rationale.  There is no room for thought between our compressed bodies, animal.  No accommodations for manners amongst our seeping bodily fluids, animal.  No space for judgment between the depth of your cock and my stressed vessel, animal.  No acceptance for masked sexuality in this sphere, animal.  I will have you rare, exposed.  I will have you reacquainted with the spirit you shelved.  The spirit that was pointed at, ridiculed, and accused of being dirty, ugly, sinister, strange.  I will erase the memories of desertion upon your animal within the baptismal fluids of my sex.  You will be reborn primal; your darkness turning to light, “demons” dance amongst us, acceptance encapsulates us, “strange” is welcomed here, bizarre is amongst company.

We, the dark ones, have no interest in you beautiful people.  You delicately dance atop the sheets covered with boundaries delightfully freshened with Downy.  We writhe, hand in hand with our demons and celebrating the dark recesses with sexual decadence.   You do what you believe is beautiful, afraid to release yourself into the depths of your sexuality, a foot firmly anchored to expectation.  We approach the cliff, fling ourselves off and fall freely into the fire.  You enjoy the safety of delicate hands controlled by a manipulated being, a diluted prowess, a whipped rebel.  We enjoy restraining the body, while freeing the mind, emancipating the soul.  You enjoy your human.  We plea for the animal.  You need the light to see color, and we cannot see color until we’re plunged deeply into the darkness.

Free yourselves,

Fervid M