Sacred Semen

I started masturbating in eighth grade, and I immediately felt both intense pleasure and intense shame from it. By the time I graduated high school, I'd filled a large drawer in my bedroom with journals, and all the entries dealt with one thing: my self-hatred and over my masturbation habit.

Let's Talk Filthy

When I was younger, I put a lot of my focus and belief on the idea that filthy was shameful.

Clean was sacred. Filthy was sinful.

Clean was worthy. Filthy was worthless.

Clean was wholeness, divinity, light. Filthy was broken, damnation, darkness.

And because of these beliefs, I felt torn in two.

It's Your Puššy.

It's your pussy. What do you want to do with it?

What does she want? 

What does she need?

To be hidden away? Protected? Safe from harm? 

Or to be paraded through busy streets? Naked? Unashamed?

God Loves Slµ†s

God loves sluts.

I know it in the depths of my soul.

Not in spite of who they are or what they do.

No.

Who they are and what they do is the sweetest music in divine ears.

His Hand On Her Throat

His hand on her throat. 

What does it mean?

When he's plunging into her. When their eyes lock, and the flames in his pupils ignite a flame in hers. When his strong hand holds her neck firmly against the mattress. When his powerful, muscular body hovers over her naked. Both their skin glowing with the warmth of a coming sweat.

What does it mean?

One context for this calls to me in particular. 

That of a woman caught in infidelity.

My Most Epic Orgasm

Oh, dear God, my penis. I just knew I had broken it.

Lying there in the dark. Under the sheets.

Mortified.

Because it wouldn't stop.