Sensuality Has Fallen From the Sy

What else but the wind changes so?

When we had first met it had not been physical but rather our rendezvous had been scheduled without our knowledge. You see, life has a certain way of weaving its threads and one cannot have certainty when the leaves, after all, do not stay green all year.

Her tall figure could put many men off, and it may turn others on because perhaps they connect physical stature with some dominance and they may enjoy that. I, however, was indifferent when that fateful night came and I found her kneeling down before me in a dream.

Or was it I who was kneeling?

You see, I don't recall the 'power dynamic' because that's not even remotely something that I ponder. How strong can 'strong' be if it requires its opposite 'weak' to exist?

And how weak is 'weak' really if it holds up its partner 'strong'?

You see, a funny little thing happened that first night. We both seemed to possess the light and the dark, not because we were switching positions or playing a game, but because when you see a lightbulb what you really see is the waves pulsing. The peak and trough are one. Her moans are both sound and the lack of sound.

I really did meet her though, months ago, and since then distance had been made between our worldly locations and in that space a line had been drawn.

Now, like a guitar string plucked between two points, my late nights played her moan in my ear and I found myself aroused and ejaculating completely without intention and without resorting to touching myself.

I'm sure you'd agree that takes a lot of training and practice, right?

Wrong.

Now I know the opposite to be true.

When she comes to me and I let go, when I relax against the innate tension of an erection and let the stream flow without any outward force, I find myself more sexually liberated than ever and no shame may come to greet me.

I once told her that I was having trouble finding men's clothes in any charity shops around my area, saying something about the fact that only ladies seem to refresh their wardrobe and donate.

She replied simply with "wear a skirt".

Now, usually my feminine side and fetishization of crossdressing etc would surface and I'd be sent into a spiral, but for some reason I replied with

"you wear a skirt."

Now, I'd happily wear one for her. But now i feel that I would have the power, imagine fucking a tall gorgeous artist until she goes droopy and groans your name all whilst wearing a skirt. What a real power move that is, precisely because it's not done in the pursuit of power...

One day I think I'd like to tell her to wear only her gold rings, and we could play like a Roman or Greek power couple and fuck in the moonlight. Maybe a skinny twink could watch us and I'd fuck him in front of her until she couldn't deal with it and tell him to fuck off so that I could do the same to her. To live with a vocabulary rich in theatre and grace is to live in a life with those very things, for a mirror in a garden may only reflect the garden. The kingdom would sleep as I put myself in a position of giving. You see, what gets me off more than anything is being able to feel where she needs her pleasure given. Like a good chiropractic doctor who can see, literally see, and feel where an adjustment is needed, I can hold her hips whilst deep inside her and feel where she lacks attention. To be an open channel is no weakness my brothers.

Since when did sensuality fall from our grasp?

To go to war with all of our vigor, great, why not? Go for it.

But go down on your lady as you would go down in battle.

Not to treat her as a battlefield however... but the metaphor still holds water I feel.

Some dream of fame, others dream of fortune.

This evening I dream of holding such a vibration in my body that upon contact with my hands, a woman may feel her toes curl and her bliss flow through her loins.

The gentleman holds open the door for her. But the sensual sage sends out a wish that she may orgasm well and have clear skin in the morning.

One loves not to get a response or a reckless kiss, but because it is a lover's way.

No pornography can touch the feeling one may get from simply relaxing into the sensuality of life.

To orgasm spiritually.

To know that she is thinking of you and is happily calling your name to the skies as she drips countries away at night alone in her bed.

And to do the same for her.

Again we meet, this time we somehow know of a synchronicity.

The golden goddess, fingers soaked and breath heavy.

The sage, sweating and pouring light out into the room.

And in the air a sensual energy bathes us.