A New Muse

This is new for me. The writing isn't new... I have written, off and on, various things, all my life. But this kind of writing... it's a very different muse. So, I'm still figuring things out. And the fucking isn't new - I've been fucking guys since I was in college, but, I'm getting to an age where there's a lot of silver in my beard, and my place in the gay hierarchy is changing. I really had pictured myself in my fifties being more obsolescent and out of power in terms of bar and fuck party cred, but it has been a very different experience; I've leaned in to the Daddy persona, and it's really been wonderful for me. I had guys calling me "Daddy" and "Sir" before I was thirty - I've always been an intense personality, and I've often enjoyed the company of guys who wanted to follow a strong lead, but lately... it's different. Another new muse, or maybe it's just the same Hormone Monster is putting on different suits. Erotic energy is creative energy. I'm pushing buttons that I didn't even know about a while back, and I've got some kind of Daddy Power compulsion spell that makes amazingly hot guys throw themselves on my dick, and I'm NOT MAD AT IT... but again... still figuring out things. It's been less than a year. There were some mind-opening therapeutic experiences in there, and I'm still working on therapy-ing my shit because I've got a whole pile of it to go through. This blog really shows mostly things that I think about with my dick in my hand, but you'll get occasional slivers of things like family-of-origin issues, late-diagnosis autism, treatment-resistant depression and generalized anxiety disorder... I feel like being open, honest, and vulnerable with this stuff, is the only way to get past the stigma. And I feel like I can understand some of the emotional and physical things that go on with a BDSM-esque sexual experience, from having explored and analyzed so much of my own mental territory. I think working to heal my own shit makes me a better top.

 
I started an interesting way of playing, a while ago - a few hits on a (legal) THC vape when I was at a fuck party or a bath house, and it made so many things SUPER intensely pleasurable for me. Some of the tantric work that I had already been doing, was not only heightened... but it was like I could SEE and FEEL the energy moving, and I don't give a single FUCK if was just the weed, holy CRAP it's a beautiful way to play, just in terms of sensual intensity, and at the same time it somehow allows me to step more fully into this dominant Daddy role. I've always enjoyed being watched; I've always tended to take charge a little bit... but now, I find myself doing things like narrating out loud what I'm doing to a boy, so that not only does he know that everyone standing around watching us knows exactly how I'm working his asshole open with my fingers, pressing on the muscle on each side, top and bottom like a clock, to make the tight little pucker spread and open for me... but he is on display, and he's performing for them and for me. It's titillating, it's humiliating, he loves it, he looks up at me like I am made of Milkbones and he's one hungry puppy. Who am I to say no to that? We're the show; we're having the kind of sex that guys fantasize about. Hell, *I* fantasize about it. And lately.... fantasize about it, and then the next week, it's riding my cock and moaning incoherently. 

And then some nights when I was at home, sitting and chatting with friends, I would hit the same THC, and start telling one of them about one or another fuck I'd had recently - each little rambling collection of paragraphs seemed like it had a dramatic arc and a narrative through line, and they felt so hot, and it was like the telling of the story was a sexual experience itself; complete with flirtation, arousal, a strong rhythmical middle passage, and a climactic conclusion... and then thinking about another guy reading it and getting turned on was a whole different level, touching him with my words in his head. Leaving my intellectual DNA in his brain. And the thinking got deeper, too... that's kind of the double meaning behind the title - it's going deeper in organ-in-orifice terms, open that throat for me, boy, how long can you hold your breath... but also in terms of philosophical depth. It made me start thinking more about the nature of domination, the gift of pleasure, the transience of every good thing, and the ability to have an intense, crotch-centered connection with another human being, often without exchanging a single word, and still make it meaningful and beautiful. Although I almost always end up saying things, especially if it's beautiful, because I want to make sure the golden-furred boy kneeling in front of me outside by the pool KNOWS that the wind as the front comes in feels like being lightly brushed all over with fine silk scarves, and the sensation of his hands roaming light and cool up and down my thighs as he sucked my cock in his warm wet mouth was making me almost shake. People need to HEAR this stuff, because so many of them don't even think to look up and feel the wind touching them, and revel in being together with another man outdoors in front of a coming storm. So I would paste and share with a few friends, and then I decided... this ought to be a blog. And, here it is. Going Deeper (inside strange men).