An Odyssey of Flesh

I am thinking of soft skin and hard fingers.

A tight grip digging into flesh that gives way under protest. The gasp of pain as those points of pressure solidify.

A hand to throat now, almost gentle in its application of force, inexorable in its insistence, and the subsequent denial of breath. Lips on skin, the taste of excitement writ in hormone and pheromone, the scent of desire a heady aroma that wafts from soft places.

Body moves with body, a dance older than language, an urge for communion beyond an urge for creation, the incessant need making itself known in damp thighs and rigid erection. The force of muscle and bone applied to willing flesh, restrained violence in the use of a need dampened hole.

The penetration a welcome violation, plunging deep with a force that can be surprising, the exploration of a private depth, a place where fingers and tongue can only tease at, not claim in a form of ownership. The pulsing rhythm as hands continue their odyssey of flesh, a ritual of movement that seems fresh and new and exciting with the introduction of a different owner, a recognizable pattern that is both unknown and yet intimately familiar.

The tempo changes with each evolution of position, the thrust hitting something else, the sliding friction again renewed in both vigor and excitement with each new angle. The grasping fingers finding painful purchase as hip shift bruisingly into hip. Again and again the denial of breath as hand finds throat, or as palm presses into the back, forcing face into the ground. Purchase found to increase the rutting pace, the plunging force grinding thought into fire and lust. Breath is labored and deep, a gasp of want that mingles with the cries and moans of mingled suffering and ecstasy.

The mind begins to float free as the flesh takes over, the price paid in sweat and exhaustion, in agony and release. And then the rise, that sickly sweet reminder that humanity comes with a most wonderful distraction. Pinpricks of light dancing like faeries behind eyelids squeezed so very tight. Muscles contracting into knots as the rush of blood and want and lust and need boils explosively towards release.

Again and again the endless thrust, the piston pounding the want out in a staccato cadence of arousal and primal carnality. A peak, then. An explosive eruption deep within, that lewdly expressive splash of material desire, filling that hidden place, that depth now sodden with the mingled release, the mind afire with the force of union, the ecstasy of the exchange.

After, the body tingles with the fading glow, sated only for these precious few moments, limbs and hair tangled in a jumble of sweat soaked lassitude. The heart beat so rapid fire slowly returning to something normal, the mind floating back to nestle in its mortal coil.

Goodbye, now.

All I have left are memories and photographs.

I’ve long since washed the sheets that lingered with your scent. You never wore a particular perfume, but the smell of you has long since wafted from my room. The romantic in me says that I will always remember the way you smelled, the sweat of a long day, the soap that you used, that particular mingling of scent that was us, after. But the reality is that I only remember the pleasure of your smell, my nose has long since forgotten that particular taste.

It took me a while to remove all traces of you, the few items you left behind stayed mostly where you left them. The space I set for you stayed clear for months, but now holds small things I use from day to day. You came and got most of your things, but you forgot one or two things behind. Nothing important, things only precious to me in the connection to you. But even those things are gone now, returned or stashed away. Perhaps in a few years I’ll find them again, digging through my boxes, and I wonder how they’ll make me feel then?

I kept your phone number in my favorites, I kept the ringtone that was just for you, hoping that I’d hear it go off, praying that it wouldn’t just be a mistake. Even that’s gone now, the space allotted for something else, probably something banal. But you’re number still remains, for the occasional text on birthdays and special occasions.

Yesterday was your birthday, that was a special occasion. I sent you a well wishing, and you thanked me for it, but I know the wishes of someone else mean far more to you now than mine. That’s ok, really. I hope you have found happiness, I hope that you’ve found joy. That’s all I ever wanted for you, to help you grow, to help you to see the wonder that I saw whenever I got to look at you. I know that you’ll go far, that you’ll continue to grow, that you will succeed in your dreams, that you’ll achieve your goals. At least, that’s what I believe, even though I know I won’t be there to share in your triumph.

I don’t know how much of an impact I’ve had in your life. The way things ended scream at me like a wound, a violent display of how little importance you held us in. Part of me says that the only way you know how to end things is through a severing, a cold and merciless cutting out of the past. That the greater the impact, the more severe the disconnect. This is what I tell myself, that somehow I meant more to you than what appearances would seem to suggest. But, that doesn’t really matter now, my impact on your life is over, and you have walked away.

You meant the world to me, even though I always knew that allowing you to get so close was a really poor decision. I was warned, you see. “She’s too young for you. She’ll grow and move on, but you are through with your changing.” I knew it going in, and in the end, that was a convenient excuse for you to use. Perhaps it wasn’t an excuse, perhaps it truly was the way of it, but this also no longer matters.

Even so, you taught me more about myself than I thought was possible. You reminded me that there can be a light out there, that I am not ever alone. It’s hard for me to see the love and support that others give to me, it’s hard for me to accept their love as anything more than platitudes. I wish it was easier, but that’s the way of it. You saw through all of that, and somehow you always knew exactly what to do or say that made me see that you meant it. I never doubted you. Not then. Perhaps the doubt I have now is a self defense mechanism, a way for my lizard brain to somehow shift some of the blame more onto you, give me a reason for anger instead of all this pain. But I don’t want to believe that. I don’t want to doubt. I don’t want to see any blame placed anywhere, because sometimes things just end.

I always said that you could walk away, knowing that you probably would, hoping that you wouldn’t. It’s time that I accepted that, that I grow, that I let the memories fade, the wounds to heal, the fires to burn out, the embers to grow cold. But I am afraid. I am afraid that when those memories go, it’ll take the fire from the lessons that you taught me. I worry that once again, I’ll return to the emotionless machine, where the thin veneer of humanity is nothing more than a facade.

Things are better now, and I do have hope that some of that will stick. When I think of some of the people in my life, I know that my smile is genuine. I know that the warmth in my heart comes from them, and I know that it is real. Perhaps the fear of losing that is just another crutch, an excuse I give to rationalize continuing to hold on to something that has passed.

Either way, it is time to move on. I have my own path to follow, my own growth to find. I’ll do it, I know that I will, and I know these memories will help me to remember, will become another step along my path.

Thank you, for teaching me so much. You still mean the world to me, but that is gratitude for what was, and no longer for what is.

Goodbye, ka. May you truly find the happiness you seek.

WinterFire and Looking Forward

It never ceases to amaze me how important these events can be. I look forward to them every time, and the kick in the ass they can be is totally worth it for the incredible and intense rejuvenation they offer. Time with friends, the evolution of relationships, the creation of new ones, all serve to help remind us what is actually important. In these times, these events become ever more essential to helping us remember that we are a part of something greater, that the community we belong to is alive and thriving, and there are brothers, sisters, and others that are out there to help and support us.

I was asked quite a few times on this trip why the hell I drove up to DC all the way from Florida. Sure, I could have flown, but I had reasons. Yeah, the one I mentioned more often than any other was because I was able to spend some time with a new but dear friend, (getting to spend that time was very special to me, and I’ll go into that more later) but the reason I didn’t mention all that often was that driving initially afforded me the opportunity to visit my uncle. A few weeks ago he collapsed and was rushed to the hospital with congestive heart failure. No one expected him to survive the night, but he did. This wonderful and incredible man held on for almost two weeks, giving him an opportunity to say goodbye to his brothers and his sister (my mother), as well as his wife and children.

But he did not survive long enough for me to see him. He died just days before I drove through, and I missed my window of opportunity.

At first, I was struck deeply by grief, full of recriminations about how I should have just gone, to hell with scheduling. But then, it settled upon me that it is not given unto us to know the hour of our passing, nor the passing of anyone else. If the universe had deemed it right for me to see him before he moved on, then I would have had the chance. So, it fell to me to contemplate and reflect upon what he had left me with, the legacy of love without reservation, the wisdom and strength of a man that literally gave everything he had to those he loved. He worked ceaselessly for those he loved, he cared for them, he watched over them, and he did what he could to help guide them and nurture them, regardless of whether or not he agreed with who and what they were. Of all my family, he was the only one that ever supported me, even when he neither believed in nor supported the choices I’ve made in my life. A staunch conservative and devout Christian, he and I stood on polar opposites of the socio-political spectrum, and yet he never once let that get in the way of his love for me.

So, it is with this memory at the forefront, that I sat out on this journey to DC, and a weekend of bacchanalia and depravity. A weekend I needed for so very many reasons.

Thursday

The drive up was long and grueling, but not anything I’m not used to. I love driving, and distance driving gives me a great chance to just reflect on life, as well as spend some time catching up on some good audiobooks. So, it was off to North Carolina with Robin Hobb playing through my speakers. Did I say “good” audiobooks? Well, so far the Farseer series hasn’t lived up to that particular adjective.

But, I digress. I arrived at my destination, and it was to a pleasant night of good conversation, rope, and surprisingly good cuddles. The details, I am afraid, must be left to your imagination and to my memory, but suffice it to say it was excellent company and one that I will cherish closely in the months to come.

Friday

Waking up, we got on the road. There were plans, but they were discarded for the expediency of the long road trip ahead. We filled the hours with conversation about our past, about D/s, about kink in general. The miles flew by as we did, and I grew to enjoy this friend even more than I thought was possible. It is not often that you meet an appropriately kindred spirit, and it was surprisingly refreshing to spend the morning with such a charming creature.

We got into DC and into the hotel. After a brief snafu with the hotel itself (which was very capably handled by an overly-stressed unicorn), I was IN and ready for my WF. There were some excellent greetings from some old friends, quiet moments amidst tearful reunion hugs and kisses, laughter and smiles. It was absolutely lovely to be reminded that though we are separated by miles and time zones, we are still family. I wish that I was closer, but I am desperately grateful to be able to share space with them when I can. Dinner with a friend, and I was excited to see us grow even closer. Damn, it was good to chat with you, thank you for introducing me to the Goat.

Then, the first “official” scene of my WF experience. I hadn’t expected to be given the chance to experience this person, and I was intensely flattered by their interest. I admit, I am not often nervous or anxious before scenes anymore, but I certainly was leading up to this. But hot DAMN it was a good scene. Fun rope, some tussling, and frustration over a timely moved hitatchi. It was fantastic and great fun. It was wonderful to get to explore a new person, to see them in an element that I hadn’t had a chance to before, and it was really really good. I will take what I have learned into my next scene with you, friend. Ware!

But, no matter how excellent that scene was, it was no match for getting to hold my beloved @scuddle again. Kept late by a new job and the appropriate celebrations, she did not arrive until late. Once she did, it was a moment of intense joy to be able to share space with her again. It aches so much whenever we are parted, but it is as nothing to the incandescent joy at reunion.

And I shall speak no further of my Friday.

Saturday

0945 comes damnably early. I am lucky in that I am one of those goddamn assholes that just wakes up fully conscious. I don’t need coffee or any other kind of caffeine to get me going, and when I have to teach early, I am immeasurably grateful for that. Give me a chance to smoke a cigarette and a few minutes to align my thoughts, and it’s time to hit the ground running.

I do not often get to teach outside of the wheelhouse of rope bondage and other forms of play, so when I get to share on the more philosophical side of kink, I am as giddy as a schoolboy to do so. *Slave Training 101* was a far more intense class at WF than it usually is. I had a pretty full class, and it was a fantastic way to start off my teaching experience for the weekend. We delved deep into the profound changes that come with exploring both sides of the M/s dynamic. We shared experiences, discussed programs for both in-person and distance training, and ended on the Butler Book. There were some fantastic questions, some equally good suggestions, and all in all, I think it was a fairly successful class. Thank you to everyone that attended and shared your input.

Lunch! @scuddle and I attended the Lunch With Presenters thing in the lobby, and we got to spend some time with a few really excellent humans. It was lovely!

Partials. So, this class was a fucking blast. We really didn’t know what to expect going into it, but it turned out wonderfully. We got to share a particularly challenging partial and discussed the process of taking care with each step, with each piece building off the one prior, each one making the partial more and more difficult. Sometimes it’s good to take the time and really let your partner sink into the experience before leveling up to the next.

We moved on from that into chaos rope, and it was really awesome to get to share with you what is essentially my most favorite kind of play. You guys took the idea and ran with it, turning it into a hands on exercise that was an absolute treat to get to observe. It’s always really awesome to get to see my attendees really getting into the material, and I could tell that a fair number of you guys really had a good time. Makes me feel like I’m doing my job right.

Also, a big thank you for my favorite Sadist showing up. Goddamnit, man. You really are the sadist I want to be when I grow up.

Then, anxiety. SOOOOOOOO, the plan that @scuddle and I originally had for the Wild Things show was simply not working out as planned. The positions were only partially working, and the transitions were just not smooth enough to make a good performance. A good scene, maybe, but they were just too hard on both of us to be able to make them flow in a way that would both work with the music we had selected, or to showcase the kinds of rope we both love and have fun with. STRESSSSSSSSSSSSS

But, the time came, and @scuddle helped me to center and prepare. A big deep breath, and FUCKING YEAH. She made me look far better than I am, and her ability to sell a fucking tough as balls transition sequence was just awesome to be able to share with you. My second takeaway from that performance? I talk ALL THE TIME about how important tension is to good rope bondage, and that performance should show all of you that with good tension, you can make some fucking MAGIC.

There was more from the night, but once again, this is all I shall say about Saturday.

Sunday

I love the frantic pace that comes with Sundays. GET EVERYTHING DONE! DO ALL THE PEOPLE! GET ALL THOSE LAST SCENES IN! Everyone is running around with barely contained excitement, and the exhaustion of the last few days really begins to show in absolutely lovely ways. Bruises are really starting to show in lovely shades of blue and purple, tired eyes are aflame with the intensity of the last few things, and the expectation of scenes where one doesn’t have to hold back to be able to survive even more days of play and fun.

The energy on Sunday was high and intense. It was a great day to share on the Sacred and to walk with the Divine. A lot happened on this day that I’d really like to keep as a lovely memory, but it was really really good. Photo shoots, OH WOW bootblacking, impromptu lessons, and an unforeseen scene with a really wonderful human. Cuddles, tears, and finally sleep.

Monday

Saying goodbye is always always hard. I miss everyone immediately, and the promises of seeing each other again soon is always really wonderful, even if it is agony. But this day I got a chance to spend taking a break. I reunited with my driving companion, and we were invited to spend the day at friend’s house, then RopeLab. I needed that day like I cannot tell you.

@scuddle you remind me what it means to be alive. You were the only light I could see when all else had faded into the darkness within my own mind, and for that I cannot ever truly thank you enough. Spending time with you this weekend reminded me of all that was, and gave me a glimpse into what can be. You give me the strength I needed to break through, and for that I will be forever grateful. I love you with everything I can.

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All things said, this was one of the best events I’ve ever been given the pleasure of attending. Thank you to all the staff at Dark Odyssey for having me, and for trusting me with a few slots to share with your attendees a little bit of my journey. Your faith in me means the world, and I am grateful. Thank you.

To my play partners, your trust is always deeply humbling and immeasurably wonderful. Why you would choose to play with a broken old asshole like me will always be beyond my understanding, but dear gods, am I grateful. Thank you.

To my students and class attendees, I always appreciate the chance to share something, however small, with you. Getting the chance to see how I have had the chance to impact your life is my reason for doing what I do. I really am here only because of you, and for that I am grateful. Thank you.

To my friends and companions that continue to provide incredible amounts of love and support, I could not do this without you. Your strength and patience is also intensely humbling, and having you in my life is a joy that I can never repay. You all bring light to my darkness, and for that I am grateful. Thank you.

Dark Odyssey, it truly was a journey, once again. I cannot wait for the next chapter, and if Winter Fire was any indicator, it’s gonna be one wild fucking ride.

Daddy without a baby.

“I can’t match your intensity right now and I don’t think I can ever match it.”

This is not a surprise.

"I've been wondering about my low sex drive. You see, the things we do turns me on to the point that I just want to fuck, and you happen to be the only cock available.”

Again, not a surprise. 

“You have to be in control all the time, and I do not like being controlled. You don’t have to give up control, just share it.”

Not a surprise either.

“You were right. As I got older, I just… changed. I will always love you, but that is not enough.”

Heartbreaking, but nothing really surprises me anymore.

Recently, I have begun to really take a look back at the experiences that I have had in my life, and I sometimes wonder at the choices that have brought me to this point. Do I regret any of them? Do I wish that I had made different choices in the direction my life was taking? If I was given the chance to go back and do some of them over again, would I do so? And then, even if took that chance, how would I change those decisions, and if I did, would it make my life any better?

These questions are pointless, you see. As much as we all would like to go back and make different choices in life, the reality is that we simply cannot, we must move forward with who we are as a product of those decisions, and hope that we can make better ones as we proceed forward with our lives. But still, we will look back and wonder. 

I can safely say that the vast majority of the choices that I have made in my life were ones that I would not change, even if given the chance. The choice to pursue art instead of computer science while in college, while it certainly has not made me any real money, has given me the opportunity to do some amazing things. I think that if I had not taken that route, I very much doubt that I would be in the position that I am in now. I would not be the photographer I am, and I certainly would not have had the opportunities to work with and take photos of some of the best people I have ever met.

Choosing to stay in Gainesville instead of getting out each time the opportunity presented itself certainly proved advantageous in some interesting ways. It forced me to work harder at some things, and be more grateful for others. It played a huge role in who I am as a person.

And really, I think that that is the rub. Throughout my life, I have made choices based on who and what I am as a person. Even when I chose a path that was counter to who I believed myself to be, I believe that I made those choices with the confidence that what I was giving up was worth what I would ultimately be receiving in the long run. For the most part, that has been true. Yes, there have been some choices in my life that were made in such a manner and proved to be ultimately unsatisfactory, but such is the way of life. 

But that is not entirely true. While I do think that a lot of my choices have been primarily made by listening to who I am, some of the biggest ones were made by listening not to who I am, but who I want. I have sacrificed huge swathes of my life, in vain attempts at happiness. After a while, I made those choices in an attempt to find peace. For the most part, I think that I have achieved a measure of peace, but at a tremendous and nearly incalculable cost.

I am a sociopath. This has moulded me in ways that I cannot even begin to describe. It has been a huge factor in just about every facet of my life, and the impact it has had on my relationships has been devastating. I am distant to even my closest of friends, no matter what I actually want. I am terrible at communicating with people, I struggle to maintain the focus necessary to remain in contact with people unless they are in my immediate sphere. In person, I am very communicative, I freely speak on even intimate subjects and I can maintain that contact easily. But if I have to maintain that contact via telephone/email/text/whatever, I find myself drifting further and further away from them quite easily. I do not want to, but it is very hard to remember that there is someone out there, waiting for me to just… talk to them.

But this is not always the case. There have been a tiny handful of people that I connect with on a level that I cannot easily describe. I call it “The Threshold.” Something happens after a while, and something inside of me just clicks into place, and suddenly I am deeply connected with someone to the point that I become shamefully dependent upon them. I develop feelings, and I finally begin to feel alive. These are the times that I cherish the most, where I can come out of my shell and just be. I find an immense amount of peace, if not actual happiness. My rational mind tells me that this is unhealthy, that I put too much weight upon the people that I attach to. My lizard mind agrees, but it screams at me that everything will fail because I burn them out, I use them up, that ultimately, I AM ALWAYS AT FAULT. I am the broken human, and everything around me breaks because of that deep and powerful truth. 

Maybe I am just innately selfish to the point where it is dangerous, but I cannot just accept that it is innately unhealthy. I tell myself that I just have to find the right balance, the right amount of energy to draw from someone without burdening them too much, to be willing to accept a duller existence in order to prolong the experience. I try to be optimistic, but in the end, my mind reverts to the safety net of “it will always end, and you will have to rebuild yet again.”

So I see this, and I try to be everything for the people that give me everything. I guide, I help, I stand by them, I support them, I give them everything I can possibly give. I sacrifice for them. I devote my entire life to them, because I know that I am slowly killing them. But that is not the only reason. As I get more and more attached to them, I find that I WANT to do this, it is no longer an obligation, no longer something I do to try and even the scales. It is a duty that I take seriously, and I begin to enjoy being all of these things. I look back over my life and I see that I always have, that even before my realization that I start these things as a way to somehow pay for the essential thing I am taking from them, I was always like this. I am a Daddy. I have always been a Daddy. 

I may be a sociopath. I may be broken. But I am also Daddy, and I deserve happiness too.