I  had a conversation with a member of my leather house who is as dark can be. People not in the know would never suspect, that the matronly loIoking woman before them was a painslut with a level of depravity that rivals my own. And so it is in my house. We were talking about people and how their own perceptions keep them from the very things they so desperately seek.

We were having this conversation because its one of the things I must solve in my own journey to reclaim my sense of kink. Never in a million nightmares had I ever seen me as losing my kinky sense of direction. Much less my sex drive. But that's exactly what happened. I've heard a lot from my doctor, my lover, friends and relatives on the subject. But it is only in the previous mentioned conversation that I realized the truth of it. The problem with finding that part of me... is me.

If you've ever suffered pain in the name of pleasure, or pain simply for its own sake, you understand that the difference between good pain and bad pain is how you manage the pain. That is, whether or not you let it pass through you, or you get in its way. All things are ethereal in fields of hunger, lust, and desire. Pain is but an echo of these. And so is pleasure. As Kinkymon (that's Pokemon for mature adults), we change one to the other as a means of satisfaction. Whereas our vanilla counterparts mostly only travel the surface of this ethereal landscape.

Sex, lust, whatever you want to call it, is a located somewhere between the physical/chemical and the spiritual aspects of our selves. Yes we think up these scenarios that make us twittle our ditties and sweat panting in the dark. Are bodies we use as vehicles to transport us to that place. We spend lots of mental energy crossing our t's and dotting our i's to achieve the utmost satisfaction. But at the moment we engage and seek the fulfillment that lust so pleasantly brings, we must disengage our minds to way the anchor and set sail upon that etheric sea. To get to that point where we 'fly', bust a nut, get the good feeling, go farther than we thought we could and push our limits, we must stop thinking and become a total sensory organ composed of spirit and flesh. To think is to lose the ethereal quality and move into realm of the solid.

This is where I've gotten into trouble.

 As kinkymon, this is a double edged sword. To 'let go' one must trust in the kinky kingdom. Think about it? I'll use skull-fucking as an example. If I just let go and let my body handle the mechanics, someone I trust can piston fuck my face with abandon. The gag reflex doesn't come in because the muscle is never engaged. Like swallowing crushed ice. Think about it and the muscle reacts. Can I take it? Can I match or keep up this rhythm? Can I breathe? Do I trust this guy not to take it too far? See, you get what I mean.

The path of hunger, lust and desire is no path at all. Liquid as water and vaporous as a cloud it is a place we seek to immerse ourselves in with abandon. This is only achieved by quietly shutting down our minds and letting our hunger and flesh become all consuming. There is no room there for the concreteness of thought. The 'edge' of kinky sex comes from release that is achieved through total trust and abandon. It why you can enter a scene or simply watch one and lose hours. I've done things that are well and above my physical capabilities for hours on end. I know it was past my limit by the repercussions from my flesh in the days that came afterward. But in those moments, hours, and sometimes drug induced days, there was no thought only action and reaction.

Loosing site of this in how you lose you sense of kinky direction. And if your not careful the fuel to your sex drive. Whether you consider yourself a monster as I do, or a pervert or just someone with an extremely healthy sex drive with a bent to it, you cannot get to your 'special place if you think about it too hard or can't stop thinking about it when its time to be 'doing'. If you don't relax and get you head out of it, your asshole will never relax and let that fist, monster cock or dildo or elbow get to its destination. And we all know the bitterness of a trip taken only to return home empty and unfulfilled. This has become my food for though as I take my lashes wondering through the thicket to find my way back to wonderland. I know that goddamn rabbit hole is around here some where. I'll remember as soon as I stop thinking about it.