Foreplay, preliminary games we play, working each other up, tripping each other’s clutch, pulling each other’s trigger…yeah, I love that too but,
What I Love About Penetration Is:
…I am plagued by a strange sensation of detachment. Or maybe I actively put myself in floating mode, a part of society, of life itself but somehow never really touching it. I tend to circle around human relationships like a moth around a light-bulb. I am simultaneously drawn to the glow and quite aware that getting too close will not be of any use. Penetration (of the sexual kind) always takes me by surprise. Not that I don’t see it coming. It is maybe the only physical act that really pins me down onto the map of the world. (Lovely thumb-tack BTW) I imagine a small sign above my head, “You are here.” And I am. Completely in the moment.
Through penetration, I feel like my status of driftwood is transformed. As if someone has seen what is beautiful in me, brushes me off and has chosen to take me home. Proudly displayed on the coffee table. As if, a pink balloon set free with a message inside, I have blown straight into the hands of the person chosen to receive my message. A green bottle corked containing an SOS note, I have washed up onto the shore where local authorities will soon be on their way to rescue me.
This all remains quite nebulous, all of this tethering down, anchoring, because when I actually am being hammered, pounded, whatever, the whole process is both an attachment and a release. I cannot say that I am all that active in the whole deal. I don’t know any special tricks or anything. This often worries me, that I am too sexually passive. A sort of glutton. I crave that intimacy, with someone else of course but also I long to be so close to myself.