I’ve been exploring with the limits of my womb. In its held life, it’s created one precious life and in its held the wounds of too many men stealing away pleasure they couldn’t find for themselves before I even knew what pleasure was.
In this precious place, I’ve gone discovering in my own hands what it means to touch infinity.
Some day’s she slow and wants only tenderness, but mostly she wants what is quick firm, and strong. I lavish her, and I ask my partner to keep going even through my laughter that is the exclamation point. Nothing ends here there is more and more and more. And we’ve reached an endless number, and the bed now turned to the ocean where each of us is reminded of our infancy on this earth.
I press my cum onto my fingers and lavish my lips with its moisture knowing this too is sacred for me to ingest. It’s there in the touching of pleasure I’m reminded we don’t have to fit into anything that’s known.
We don’t need permission to wonder if anyone else has touched this for it to be true.
We can just float on the edge of those organismic giggles and say yes this is exactly what I deserve, this was the life we were all made to drink. And it’s each of our own journeys to go discover exactly how to stand at the edge of the cliff, jump in, and know you aren’t being made to drown but learning how to float, to ride, and enjoy this wild journey we’ve agreed to call life.
But I think I want to start calling it heaven because when you really begin to experience it all, every ounce, you realize
it’s right here in
all the unknown.