Ecstasy is Achieved Through the Body Itself

3dc0dc1099d0af710dc4614c57cfe344When you are not given any information or knowledge about a thing, you cannot be expected to know or learn it.

This is indeed what happened to my body, my very own biology.
I was not told how it works, what to expect, how to utilize it to its full capacity & potential… so, I was and am unaware of a great deal about my Self & body.

Enter Mr. Scorpio.
I don’t think I have ever mentioned how compatible I am with Scorpio men.
In my life, I have been with two Scorpion-Men, and both have been absolutely revolutionary to me.

This leads us to our current blog post’s main topic – Ecstasy.


Read the word.
It’s shape is awkward & foreign, yet ripe with unlocked juices.

The taste of it on the lip hints of pink gum, bright yellow lemon… the color red.
Seeing in the mind bodies flexing wet-electric, arching in wordless emotion & collapsing, fully rent upon silken sheets in dim rooms.
The definition likening it closer to agony than transcendence.

I am wholeheartedly & thoroughly convinced that I have experienced true ecstasy at the hands of Mr. Scorpio.
It is not the first night we have been together…and I hate to admit, but I’ve personally developed enough of an emotional connection to him that I will not be writing too much about him in this blog… When I care for men, I tend to become protective of their privacy & space, and prefer they kept both in ample amounts.

However, this particular occasion is noteworthy.
I have been exploring the concept of stretching my vaginal muscles & opening recently.
He has been helping.
Last night, we managed to induce the most profound, most mind-altering state I have ever experienced, via the stretching and filling of my body.

The contrasted dance between life-changing pleasure & brain-bending pain was exquisite. I honestly felt like while we were stretching my vagina, we were also stretching the boundaries of the mind & reality as I comprehend them.

I was paralyzed as much by the limits of my muscles being tested, as the waves of new sensation & stimulated nerve rocking me with every gentle thrust of the tools used for my expansion.


It was the truest form of ecstasy, it was nothing like reading the word in books, seeing upturned eyes in movies, nothing. This is one word you must experience in order to comprehend, to learn, to know what it truly means.

It was marvelous, delightful, playful, and deeply personal to me.
I will never forget this man, with his tempered command of the female form… his intuitive, decisive ways of coaxing pleasure from the body…  His165b28ed831eafe12cf77ae5ecf8d3d8 languorous manner, taking time to savor, to relish every bite of the experience…absolutely, a God among men.
Its worth noting as well that I have another layer of appreciation for my inherent sexual nature now, in regards to the idea that I should be unashamed, and in fact, greedy for my own pleasures… that experiencing, exploring, testing the limits & capabilities of my Vessel, my own flesh and bone cage, is not something I should be ashamed of doing.

I am a wild forest, a full harvest with much fruit! Why allow that to go to waste when I can feed thousands from my tables?

Why deny myself the wines of life, why should I not experience a life-altering event, a beautiful, fulfilling moment in time, such as the one I have just had the honor of receiving?

Fuck that, cake & eat it too!
I’m proud of myself for being open enough to have had that experience, and I am forever grateful to Him for creating a safe, comfortable space for it to happen.

I am definitely addicted to this.

Meet me at the Crossroads

“How many men of mine could have been killers?
How much further did i lead them down the sticky honeyed path of death?
Those moments….those beautiful moments…you sitting against a wall in an old house
Victorian, and crumbling..the wallpaper cracking…
Youth & pale flesh acting like glue, new cobwebs creating new boxes of memory
I’m comparing my level of 1-10″ as when I was on the floor in that bathroom….you could have stabbed me. Quite literally.”

-Excerpt, My Journals

a311a19b98932401fd882f45bc1a9c2bHis name was M.
Let’s call it Markus.
Markus Toowell.

I recently had a bit of a mental health hiccup & landed myself quite suddenly in the lap of professional care… Who would have thought being tired of the basic Act of Living could be a source of confusion or derision among the common…

There was a day in there that I had been changed from ‘committed’ to ‘voluntary’ basically, and my fabulous dissociative coping mechanisms weren’t having it. I railed, screamed ugly and frantic against my tin-foil bathroom mirror & dull-gun-steel sink.
I told them that given my intelligence, putting ‘leaving’ on the table as an option was basically laughing at my illness…taunting me & my inability to cope with Society and Humans as they are.

They took the option off the table, and told me I would be transferred to long-stay.
Afterwards, they gave me print-outs of DBT therapy workbooks.
I took them to the kitchen area, deliberately sitting in the view of a young fellow I had eyed before.
At some point, I had gone to the fridge to get some milk. I made a deliberate circle in front of the energy I felt sitting at the table to the right of the fridge.
I knew it then.
As I pretended to ignore everything around me to the pursuit of my room, I felt and saw out of the corner of my eye… he looked up as if in a daze… stared at me the whole way.
I knew it then.

As I sat at the kitchen tables, leaving one full table between us, I knew he would. I knew we would have a moment. It took a while. Got half a page written before the sun began to set.
“You’re from Alberta?”
“Oh, I was just wondering about these birds, they’re crazy…”
Outside the wide window that took up the entire wall, you had a full view of the airplanes coming into the city from the Othersides of the planet…. a parking garage and a shopping district to the left were about all… but he was correct… Seagulls…. hundreds, thousands of birds flocking back and forth. We tried to get scientific… watched the frequency of flight in comparison to airplanes, but we couldn’t come up with anything but wistful theory.
We talked for a long time.
Connected as much as two broken people can inside of an institution.
Told to go to bed by the nurses at one am.

He got out before me, and I knew he had gone back to the Life.
Sadly, he’s a little naive creature, hasn’t been on the Streets or bluntly Homeless before, so this is all new to him, and this city is rough.
He was sweet though.
Kept his word about calling me every day, and visiting me every day as well.
He was my only visitor.
When I got out, I got back to life as I know it…

I felt bad I wasn’t reaching out, but didn’t want to be pushy.
I got a hotel for a few days.
I wanted to Bukowski it out before a craft fair I was a part of.
I invited him to stay for a few nights to get his head and affairs in order, because I’ve been there so many times I’ve lost count.

He stayed until we got back from the craft fair, waited till I went out for smokes, and robbed me of everything I made at the fair. To be fair, it was only $35…but…

My Mister Markus Toowell.
So sweet & broken, my poor dying darling.
I never hold it against these men.
I suppose I should…
I can’t help but take mutual responsibility for the situation.
Unfortunately, I set them up to fail.
I’m not the best influence myself… I won’t change you, I will just be beside you.
It kills them every time.

I’ll remember his scratchy, wobbled head… his baby teeth… his sweet softness.
He was thirty two, but he seemed so young & innocent, the thing.
If it was a schtick, it was a fucking great one…
But I’m more apt to blame it on the Cycles.
Inanna is dying & beginning her descent.

The Sea does not like to be Restrained

36a827bc5dc37d7f7f24599b6d0246a1I love the ocean, but I don’t know how to swim.

I was put into swimming lessons by my Mother and took to it naturally, but when my parents were divorced, my father never kept them up.

I spent my childhood not more than two blocks from the Atlantic coast, but can remember on one hand the amount of times I have been to the beach there. A lot of coal plants and garbage dumping left the beaches in our area icky and unswimmable, and no one wants to swim in ice cubes anyway.

I always dreamed of the day my skin would feel warm ocean water, and when I moved to the Philippines, I had the luxury of floating and splashing in the Pacific. It was like coming home to a warm, sun-kissed, duvet-covered bed after a long survival trek in Alaska.

One night I was feeling lonely, so I took a bottle of Red Horse and my pack of smokes down to the beach. The ocean at night is one of the most majestic things to ever exist.
You can feel the breadth & depth stretch for miles, surrounding your senses and confounding your thoughts…the sound of ocean waves coupled with silence only night can bring is singular in experience…I sat on the edge of the world with myself, thinking & drinking. I slowly noticed there were lights around me but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from… until I put my hand down to stand up.fb5a4cb6522c9799b4027ababbaa81f4

Another one of my most cherished memories will always be the bright, otherworldly blue of these impossibly small, beautiful creatures.
I sat for what must have been hours, softly waving my fingers through them, splashing with my toes, and feeling connected to something much larger than myself.

Eventually, one of the workers at the resort came to check on me. It’s considered extremely strange for a person to hang out or go places alone, and so it’s not often I had the opportunity to.

Living in the mountains is lovely… old stone has it’s own respectable energy and flow, but I always find myself becoming extremely restless and frustrated with my life when I’m separated from the sea for too long.
The salt runs pure crystal through my veins, and the tides are so strong they command obedience from my body. Who can ignore the ocean?

When I was younger I was obsessed with the idea of living in a house boat.
I would still love to live in one, however I’m less obsessed with the idea of buying one tomorrow, and I would need to hire a Captain… battling with the sea is not something I consider relaxing or useful.

My grandfather was a Captain. I did not meet him, as his ship was lost at sea. His body was the only person of the crew not found. I like to imagine he faked his own death, and that he is still out in the wide world, exploring and travelling with a greedy lust for life.


I Pointed Ahead – Ahead of Myself as well as You

d6250616c2d81fd85afb60f4f3efa5c5The men that have come and gone into my life have always held lessons out to me like juicy, ripe, foreign fruit.

I learned early on in my life that what looks appealing to the eye may not be so fine beneath the surface.

In our elementary school we had a crab apple tree that the poor kids would run to at recess in lieu of the candy lines.
One day, I broke open an apple before eating it to discover earwigs pouring out of the center.

It was a lesson in lessons… Discovery is not always pleasant, however you can always transform something unpleasant into something useful… I threw it at a kid that had been bullying me.

I love the men that can teach me things. I hold the education & exercise of the mind in unbelievably high esteem, and so men that expand the mind are among my most cherished & sought-after gifts to myself.

I consider my relationship with such men to become distinctly paternal in nature, through no fault of either party.b0b60e490b678c12537970b23310be01

I have observed that when men think they are teaching, guiding or introducing a female to new experiences, sexually or otherwise, they seem to develop a sense of overt pride & care for the female they’ve poured their ‘knowledge’ into.

I suppose it would be the sense of creation in a way, the idea or belief that you’ve concretely influenced or left a mark on a person’s character or life, and subsequently, their future. This, I assume, would be where the paternal feelings develop for the male.

It can be entirely unfortunate when a man is unable to understand, face, or work through these feelings. It can lead to the breakdown of a relationship due to an unconscious feeling of having to ‘take care’ of a partner, or there can be a mental disconnect or power struggle that develops internally, creating unstable communication or chaotic dynamics in the day-to-day routine.

The men that have been transient in my life have taught me the most, and are among my more cherished memories of men.

Mr. Sweet-n-Low was a wonderfully sweet, 40-something-year-old man with a laid-back, extremely comfortable manner. He had an ‘ol retriever dog & always bought us coffee.
We would smoke weed and snuggle on the couch listening to music, tossing the wet, slobbery green tennis ball for pup. He never made me feel anything but cozy and warm.be597c3fa6b89eaf8f6c9bf494982a25

We rummaged around in his attic one night for fun. He gifted me a beautiful old vintage hand-sewn wedding dress that he pulled out of that attic. I still own it and think of him.

Mr. Chops was another man who was transient but so sweet.
I like to imagine that my Houdini-men are wonderfully broken, wild, modern-day Richard Burtons… fragmented and sharp, and that they do not stay because they fear cutting me too much. That although they are toughened, with sandpaper tongues and razorteeth, they still melt like heated honey when I touch them…that my voice is like home to these lost soldiers… that they find momentary respite in my innocent, wide, young arms.

Some Folks are Happier Not Being Saved

f6c17e59d4938efd07f2b5681b4574ccI have struggled with the idea of monogamy for a very long time.

My nature is, ironically, quite private, and rather simplistic… I prefer my own company, a thick book & strong coffee to lunchtime ‘Cocktail & Tells’ with ladies-in-waiting… however, just try to drag me away from a conversation on Mesopotamia or Physics with an educated mind… I won’t pull my claws out an inch.

The idea of becoming so enamored with someone that you need them in your life is simultaneously sweet & weak in equal measure.

In my experience,  relationships always shift and settle into routine, pattern, predictability, & rigidity. There becomes less chance or space for unpredictability, spontaneity, or excitement. ‘You always surprise me!’
quickly turns into ‘What the fuck were you thinking?’ once routines are established.

I have never fucked for pleasure.
The opportunity has never presented itself. I have never fucked for myself.

When I open my body for men to enter, I tuck away my own desires and focus on his. I do not tell men to kneel, to suck, to lick and twist and caress and push with finger, tongue & lip, like solid earth, quaking my body’s ocean storms into submission…often I say nothing at all.

I gather them into me, doing and saying everything they need to let go, to feel safe, to feel renewed.

I provide them with comfort.
They provide me with cages.

I don’t blame them…if I found a toy to take away the pain of being human, I would probably cling to it as well…but it’s so unfortunate when I forget myself in order to assuage them…unfortunate when they fall in love with a mask and I forget to take it off, allowing it to fuse to my face.

It could be argued that One can still be monogamous while also being wild, passionate & thirsty for life in all it’s experience…perhaps so, but it would mean a pairing of two humans, perfectly balanced within themselves, with no reservations in allowing the other to explore all of life’s tastes…and it’s not often you find that delicate recipe.

The Great Affair is To Move

“I am awfully greedy; I want everything from life. I want to be a woman and to be a man, to have many friends and to have loneliness, to work much and write good books, to travel and enjoy myself, to be selfish and to be unselfish…”
–Simone de Beauvoir26aa27d2458f16f428ad2cd80c6fb901

I have been travelling due to love for a very long time. My parents were divorced when I was two years of age, however I did not have regular visits with my mother until I was an older child, due to unfortunately having a less-than-stellar father.

Once I was finally visiting my mother and her girlfriend regularly, when the time came to drive me back to my father’s home, I would rail & storm, scream, cry my guts out, beg them to kidnap me, and generally, quite understandably, cause anxiety & misery for the entire five hour drive.
It was hellish, and I can only imagine what my poor mother went through during those heartbreakingly tragic times.

The first time a man traveled to see me was when I was not yet twenty years of age.
Mr. Frenchheart came from Montreal with a tent, simply to visit me. He was some kind of accountant, or studying for hotshot-math-something, and due to our long, drawn out philosophical conversations and lovely rapport, he decided on a whim to change his life entirely, quit what he was doing and follow his passions instead. We lost contact, and I don’t know how he truly is now, but social media checkups tell me he’s doing wonderfully and is making films that have already been showcased in a few festivals.

The First time I genuinely traveled for love, I was in my twenties, he was twenty years my senior. I trusted this man because we had a mutual friend whom I also adore.

Mr. Savage, as I will call him, is absolutely trustworthy. Unfortunately, I found out a little late that his character judgement is a mite skewed in the ‘optimistic’ direction.

Mr. Scootercat, when not imbued in cheap island rum, was admittedly a genius. His skill at all aspects of art & music, literature & gastronomic delight were impeccable.
I will never cook another marinara recipe again, and I will always hold our talks of culture & philosophy in my heart. Unfortunately, quite soon it got to the point that I was no longer living with the same man. I left before further damage could be done once I realized he and the household would not take responsibility for a resourceless woman in the tropics. I had to hustle, there was no time for reliance on others.

Because of that experience, I got to meet an absolutely wonderful Filipino chief of police. Mr. Chief was all-flirt, full-man, and tough as nails, but he was also absolutely the sweetest thing. He always made sure I had a coffee and a breakfast pastry. He allowed me to devour all of the novels he had stacked on a shelf. He made sure in the evenings that I had food, or had money to go to the night market to buy my own. He insisted I use his own private facilities to wash and freshen up, because it had a lock and key. He was always asking me if I had found a boyfriend, and telling me I would make someone a happy husband someday. The poor fellow didn’t know I had the sweetest crush on him, I bet he would have had a heart attack! 8415b5fd4ae4fd6c5d72ffe1ee03f27d

The most recent travel excursion was to a man I had known for almost ten years previous, but had never met in real life. A real sexy, red-blooded American. From Philly. With Italian roots, good god he was a timebomb.
Charming to the gills, absolutely hilarious, the biggest bookcase I had seen in a man’s house since an ex’s father’s in high school, talented in music, art & writing, and by god, clever. Things ended when I returned to Canada to work, in order to save for an upgraded apartment in six months with him. A deeper issue left untreated turned a small issue into a blistering mess.It got ugly, and I walked away due to feeling irreparably disrespected within our dynamic.

I miss all of the men who have came and went from my life…the ones that exert effort to make a Lady feel proper. That doesn’t necessarily always mean using your manners…we’ll talk about my love for bad boys sometime in the future…but it does mean offering her something a little bit more, while also respecting her autonomy.
It is not her job to feed you treats once you’ve successfully shown her your tricks, but impress her and she may show off tricks of her own.

I love travelling for men.
A man that takes care of your travel arrangements, so all you must do is show up, sit, then strut the floor like you own the airport, is absolutely thrilling. It’s the extension of the luxury of your own private car. It is romance, adventure, anticipation, exhilaration all at once. It makes you feel thoroughly courted. Mix that in with the heady lust that travel incites in a human, well…is there not one better combination in the world?


The Fires of Experience & Freedom’s Obsession

It was never my conscious intention to be a sensual, erotic creature by nature.
From childhood until well into my teenage years, I remained ashamed of my sexuality as well as my sensual feminine nature. I denied my womanhood, and still struggle with my identity as related to emotional intimacy & female empowerment.

This is one of the main reasons I have decided to document and explore my boundaries and limits in regards to my sexual & sensual nature within a blog setting. I have a gift for words, and I find that writing has always helped me establish more organized thought.
If it succeeds in inspiring others, my journey is worth it.

5e7a505d7d0b78adeb5b6f50ce1fc2d2I have always been a sexual creature in secret.
I was made aware of my ability to arouse as a young human on this earth. My first views of human sexuality were skewed with both authority figures as well as peers. Within the moments of inappropriate behavior I was appalled, disgusted, and averse to it. However, it made me aware of my body, and I found myself attractive in an awkward, childish way.
I have in the past utilized that childlike, innocent nature in order to empower my sexual nature.

It is incorrect.
I have come to determine that the exploitation of innocence is not tolerable in any form.
I have the double blessing of being dissociative.
I have a part of my psyche squared off that is my ‘child nature’, and the rest of my ‘system’ would fight tooth and nail to protect it from harm.
Therefore, in that same sense, the exploitation of my own sensual, innocent, child-like state for ‘Gains of Power’ ((later explained)) is not allowed.

I am a highly spiritual human.
Sensuality & spirituality are closely intertwined for me, and I suppose I would explain my views personally as, Sex is to Religion what Sensuality is to Spirituality.
The physical act of sex is pleasurable to participate in, but I am certainly no fanatic.
I consider sensual contact between humans to be more rewarding overall to the systems of both parties. However, that isn’t to say sex & sexuality don’t intrigue and excite my imagination….it just takes more than skin slapping wetly together.

In regards to relationships, where this project/journey bloomed from, I will say I have a very unfortunate past. As much as I have tried to be the supportive, loving, dedicated, devoted partner, I have failed. I hold no ill will, blame, negativity, or otherwise…but I sure do miss that part of my tooth, the vintage stereo system, my sanity, and the countless hours wasted on another person who didn’t appreciate it.


Nonetheless, I have loved almost every man who has come into my life. They would not have gained access to me if I had not. I appreciate the masculine side of this world more than most imagine at first glance. I worship a fine man. I have high, yet gloriously simple ideals for the ‘Perfect Man’, and most men are able to mirror shards of this for me sufficiently enough that I have taken them in and overlooked their baggage.

I do not mind the mental exercise of debate, discourse, and self-improvement.
I support every endeavor associated. The following relationships are illustrated in order to display and educate the public to my own inclinations & intentions, past and future.

1581c91af621e90ec6da9e2df4639dfaMy most recent, Mr. Advertising, was a perfect example of masculinity. Six foot something, fuzzy in all the right places, gloriously sexy in a teddy-beast kind of way. We were compatible. He was perfect. Unfortunately, his vice came in a little bag and six cans. He could go for days, and I stayed by his side the whole time. For six months, to be precise. I had no visa and spent the days in his apartment. On the days he went to work, I cleaned, surfed the internet, tentatively explored the neighborhood, and generally puttered. Our plan was to send me back to Canada to work & save some money for the following next six month stint. Three months in, everything fell apart in a blaze. Our last chance to repair things resulted in him deliberately missing his flight.

And so it goes.

The one previous, Mr. Scootercat, had a love for cheap tropical rum that superseded all reason or Will.
I ended up losing a tooth with a well-placed drunken snog to the face with his fist.
I also spent six months with him, trying to reason out his issues, but lordt, be they many and I was indeed overcome.

And so it goes.

There’s so many more, but the outcome is that I will be ceasing the care of others in relationships in favor of a more structured ‘court’. I belong to no one, and my body is my own sovereign property. I fancy the idea that I may be in the company of well-educated, literate, exciting, passionate, thrilling men, and not have to answer to any of them individually. There is something romantic in the idea of social discourse with like minds with no underlying insinuation or intent…one’s cards on the table, if you will, where the relationship and it’s boundaries are concerned. I appreciate and assert being in control of my sensuality, my erotic capability, and my sexuality as well as all of its expressions.

Until Later,

– Queen of Kings