Category Archives: gratitude

Turkey and Misogyny

blissfullyinequal

I woke up this Thanksgiving morning to a hard cock parting my plush rounded ass cheeks.  As the length of him submerged between them, he trailed the head of his cock through my velvet flesh, parting my pink pussy lips with the thickness of him.  His cock immediately slicked with his cum trickling from inside of me where he released hours before.  Reaching around my body, he took his thick, calloused hand and wrapped it around my neck, squeezing.  His vascular forearm nestled between my ample breasts, pulling my body into his as he thrusts his solid cock inside of me.  His thrust forces the concoction of our cum to trail down his length and pool around the base of his shaft.  I feel his coarse body hair against my back and his thick beard brushing the back of my neck. His breath is heavy, and his moans are deliciously low, a primal rumble from deep inside his chest. I could swear I absorb every drop of his masculinity through all of my senses, permeating the very pores of my skin.

I get high off of his masculinity, the opposite that makes me whole.  In nearly every moment of the day, I am reminded about how grateful I am to have a man who fearlessly embraces his masculinity, and not in a way that mainstream society would find acceptable.  My man is a devout believer in patriarchy and as ironic as it sounds, a loving misogynist.  Although this may not work for many women in today’s society, I thrive off of his belief in being superior to me in most ways.  I am not his equal, a belief we both share, and that belief is in no way a threat to me or my sense of self.  Conversely, his embracing his masculinity apart and separate from the feminine is exactly what heightens my sense of femininity in myself.  You see, my personal belief is that a man that embraces feminism, or routinely touts gender equality, is simultaneously diminishing his own masculinity.  I appreciate the more traditional aspects of how relationships and marriage used to be.  Men are being demonized daily; meanwhile, many women are sitting back, spectating or even supporting such movements whilst chanting, “We don’t need a man!”

Well, I do.

I don’t just want my man. I mentally, physically, emotionally, psychologically and in every way imaginable NEED my man.  He is the counterpart to my greatest attributes, ones in which he cannot embody nor desires to embody.  I am the perfect counterpart to his greatest attributes, ones in which I cannot and do not wish to embody.  By embracing our inequality we cultivate a organic equilibrium within our bond.  Power struggles do not find life in our home.  My husband and I do not fight over who gets to wear the pants.  He does.  Give me the dress and heels.  I want absolutely nothing to do with those pants; I couldn’t possibly fill them as perfectly as he does, and thus, suit him so much better than they ever could me.

I feel the modern day woman is doing a disservice to both themselves and men that women will soon (if they are not already) live to regret.  For every time a woman chants, “I don’t need a man”, are they not also acknowledging that men don’t need THEM?  As women preoccupy themselves with raising fists in opposition of the patriarchy, how could men not begin to disassociate themselves from women?  Why would a man choose the limp embrace of a woman who (admittedly) doesn’t need him, when he could find comfort in the arms of a woman who does?  Why would a man appreciate and value a woman for her femininity if he is not validated, acknowledged, and respected for what makes him naturally different?  In modern day, heterosexual relationships*, our quests for equality is perpetuating a divide between the couple and dissolves intimacy.  Viewing themselves as “equal” does not guarantee a more fair, loving, and nurturing relationship; On the contrary, by not embracing what makes us so beautifully different and complementary, we are neglecting the validation of such admirable qualities in our partner.  Sameness is boring.  While equality may be seen as more “fair”, it certainly is not more balanced.  The balance exists when two people can accept where their partner far surpasses their capabilities, is acknowledged for those gifts, and by association, acknowledges the converse of such gifts in their partner.

This morning, as my glorious husband pushed his thick cock inside of my tight pussy, two uniquely different bodies were made whole.  His strong, masculine body pressed against the smooth, healthy, feminine shape of mine leaves me in revere of our differences.  His grasp leaves me feeling secure and safe.  He would risk his life for me and I dedicate mine to his.  I admire him, and in such admiration, I find him to be my BETTER half.  I do not see him as my equal and I am grateful for my position.  In my position I am treasured, taken care of, and admired in a way that no “strong, independent” woman could be.  Yes, I absolutely need my man.

Now, I’m going to go bake a cake in all my domestic goddess femininity and enjoy him devouring my “cake” later.

*I emphasize this because I have no knowledge or personal experience to reflect upon any other kind of relationship; thus, have no business making assumptions about them.


Seed and Swallow

swal·low1
ˈswälō
verb
 1.
  1. cause or allow (something, especially ejaculate) to pass down the throat.
    “she swallowed a mouthful slowly”
    noun
  1. 1.
    an act of swallowing something, especially ejaculate.
    “she downed his ejaculate in one swallow”

    ShowLove

    I took a long and lazy break away from writing that I am not proud of.  However, it is the nature of me to wax and wane on things that require my attention outside of my King.  A particular topic has ignited my passion to write this post, even though the clutches of laziness for writing had a grip on me with great strength.

    What topic could inspire me from such depths, you ask?

    The topic of SWALLOWING.

    I have recently come to a shocking social discovery amongst my peers.  Many of the females I know, either rather well or just by brief acquaintance, do not swallow their man’s cum.  But, this isn’t just a matter of not swallowing, no.  These women express that they don’t like his cum and find it “disgusting”. Now, this discovery bothers me on so many levels and I feel the need to address each one; not only because it does my psyche well to express things that frustrate me, but because maybe this will resonate with the very few people who will actually read this post.

    My King is a fantastic pussy eater.  He is passionate, aggressive, and will quite literally devour me.  He is very complementary of my taste, and hearing the rumblings of, “You taste so fucking good” escape his muffled (get it?) mouth generates a fire within me that ignites my femininity from the most dormant recesses of my body.  He never hesitates, never waits, and never progresses toward my pussy with caution.  I never go long without being exceptionally eaten.  My King insists upon making me cum, using his muscular strength to lock down my hips as they buck energetically in anticipation of my orgasm.  When I do cum, I flood.  He will proceed to press harder into my flesh, lapping more and more with each twitch of my body.  As his moans grow deeper, he usually thrusts a finger or two inside of me, only to lick them clean after pulling them from my body.  I feel like a goddess.  I feel beautiful, desired, owned, and utterly appreciated for being a woman.  His woman.

    I cannot imagine if, upon the first signs of my impending orgasm, my King pulled away from my pussy and proceeded to rub my clit to finish the deed.  I cannot fathom how I would feel if his mouth stayed on my cunt long enough to finish my orgasm, only to spit out whatever saliva he had in his mouth that still tasted of me.  I would be devastated if my husband asked that I cum on his chest, and after my orgasm, he took a towel and wiped me off him while making a face akin to a face one would make while wiping off a bird shit from their t-shirt.

    Yet, this appears to be commonplace behind closed doors.  I can’t understand, for the life of me, why a man would accept any of these behaviors from a woman, especially a woman you are committed to monogamously.  Why are men so tolerant of a woman viewing their seed in such a way, when a woman would never be as tolerant?  Is this another reflection of our cultures growing inequality and demasculinization of men in the name of “feminism”?  Are men starting to feel like that’s “just the way it is” and cum swallowing women are saved for viewing porn?  And what about in a marriage, where you have promised to spend the rest of your lives together in a monogamous relationship, and you have a lifetime of feeling the cold air hit your cock just prior to orgasm.  If your wife is reluctant, or downright refuses to swallow your cum, what other doors will be shut in the realm of your sexual experiences together?  How does this not frighten these men straight into the arms of a receptive woman?  Perhaps this is sometimes the reason for affairs, and if so, I don’t blame the men for wanting to put their cocks in a welcoming mouth.

    Yet, it would still be the man’s fault.  He would still be labeled a “dog” and scorned by the vast majority of those around him.  He would still go to sleep feeling the tinge of guilt on his conscious for acting on desires that went unmet…

    For wanting to be WANTED.

    I’m not saying a woman needs to love cum.  I’m not saying that she must get on her knees before her man, mouth agape, batting her eyelashes, parched and desperate for his cum.  I’m not saying a woman needs to scoop her man’s cum into her hands and devour it like a toddler does with a slice of birthday cake.  I am suggesting that a woman should swallow a man’s cum when he wants to leave his cock in her mouth to orgasm.  I am suggesting a woman should show appreciation for her man’s cum as if it’s her pleasure to please him.  I am suggesting that when sharing your bodies, there should be very few things you find distasteful about one another and cum should NOT be one of them.

    I would argue that the taste of orgasm should be seen as a reward.  Brining your loved one to orgasm should be something of an accomplishment to be cherished and valued.  Most common arguments from women for not swallowing cum can easily be resolved:  If you don’t particularly like the taste of his cum, use flavored organic lube.  If you don’t like the feeling of his cum hitting you in the back of the throat, deep throat him.  If you can’t deep throat because it makes you gag, use a product that numbs the back of your throat temporarily.  Or better yet, practice deep throating.  You can significantly improve your gag reflux by practicing, and I’m fairly confident your man would be a willing participant as you practice.  Bottom line, there is no excuse for not swallowing.  It is inexcusable to treat the product of your man’s orgasm as intolerable.  Step outside of yourself and imagine how that rejection would feel.

    And if, as a man, you feel guilty when holding the opinion that a woman should swallow…Don’t.  Women don’t struggle gulping down ridiculous drinks to lose 10 lbs; swallow smelly, bad tasting herbs to improve their hair and skin.  Women will eat certain foods that are disgusting to improve their beauty and health without hesitation.  If she’s unwilling to swallow your cum, you should find it insulting.  She is basically saying that your pleasure isn’t worth her discomfort, and by accepting that, you are saying that her opinion is okay.  You are rewarding her pettiness, and that is unacceptable.

    I find it tragic that so many women will treat their men in a way that would make them feel rejected.  A man who tolerates this behavior perpetuates this double standard.  Just because we have been cultured to feel that a man’s emotions and need to feel appreciated is an afterthought doesn’t make it true.  Just because we often place men into roles with a purpose meanwhile quickly dismissing their need to feel like a man, doesn’t mean they aren’t longing to feel like a man.  Just because you may not WANT to doesn’t ultimately make it unnecessary.

    If it’s true that actions speak louder than words…

    SWALLOW.


Valkyrie Queen

valkyries3

Admittedly, I don’t have ample experience with surrender.  I have not considered my current state of servitude to my Beloved as a choice that I made; rather, a feeling so natural that operating against it violated the fiber of my being; a feeling so organic that any opposition travels the extent of my nerves, paralyzing them, rendering them numb to the feeling of being truly “alive”.

I admire the delicate in people, the soft submission of their love.  I find beauty in their naked souls, laying there for the taking, laying there in vulnerable exposure.  My surrender doesn’t resemble this.  I truly don’t feel there is a delicate love within me.  My love is feverish and pursued with equal abandon.

My surrender resembles that of a battered warrior.  The sharpened arrow approaching my Love, and I place myself before it.  The sharpened tongues of those composing daggers to slice Him, ignites a warrior within me to gallant, nothing could stand barrier between me and their commencing regrets.  In my mind, I stand to defend everything that deems a threat to our peace, my Beloved.  I stand stoic at His back, glancing over His shoulder with the perseverance of an immortal.  Poised powerful upon the back of the most valiant of steeds, he is empowered by your dominance.  His steady hooves heavy with purpose at your requests.  I bestow before you another meek challenger, my Love.  I bring before you another hapless suitor, my Love.  Dare they test my loyalty to my God, my Love.  Rather die than be found tyrannical before Him.  Rather die than permit someone to see what is His for owning.  Rather die than render myself helpless at defending His temple, His kingdom, His pride.  He could call me out like a hound on a fox, a ravenous beast to the prey.  He needs me not for protection, my capable King, but I remain.  I remain his Valkyrie Queen.

My body gives passionately under the press of his palms.  I appear tattered leather transforming into lace at the touch of His fingertips.  Where the sharped edged thorn emerges a soft petal.  The impenetrable fortress of my body grants Him permissible, my Beloved.  I close no door to Him.  I leave no space reserved, no place hidden.  The cold metal of my armor melts under at the ignition of my desires, His eyes upon my body.  The raised welding of my seams, pull apart as effortlessly as sand is carried away in an ebbed wave.  My shield lay at my side, rendered useless in His presence, readily accessible for war.  In His grace I am enveloped in a veil of security.  I drop to my knees in appreciation of His strength, His presence.  I am ever low but elevated.  I am humbled and vindicated.  In serving you I am free.  My surrender belongs to you, my King.  I relinquish myself to you, my chosen divinity.

-Fervid M


My church is Him.

You are warm as the summer sun’s rays; a cashmere blanket upon naked skin fireside.  Your hands are nomadic healers to my body and soul; You caress away my scars.  My eyes search for you daily, persistent until graced with the sight of you presence.  My restlessness calms, the discontented storm ceases.  You are the refuge from the bitterness of the world.  Puzzled at how I existed in this life without my ally and my passion’s alibi.  Care not of the world when secure in your arms; care only for tomorrow if you are my companion in it.  Bloody my finger upon the thorn to simply smell the petals.  You are worth every bump in our road, temporary tear in our fabric, slight fissure in our solid foundation.  Never a regret, you are my lifetime affair and most flawless imperfect experience.  Adore your expression when you first wake up, the sheets silhouetting your solid frame, you are my waking dream.  The most beautiful sight I have ever seen.  You define “man” to me, my true love.  I invest it all in you, my worthy gamble.  You were my beginning, and with you, I will end.  I will keep you beside me, my lover, my friend.