Blood, Sweat, Tears... and Cum

Before there is peace, blood will spill blood, and the lake will run red. ~ Erin Hunter

The body's own river, why is blood so bound up with emotion? The act of spilling my blood always increased the intensity of any play, tenfold. It has such power, is imbued with so much symbolism. The moment of being born, the imagined moment of our death, the very core of how we know we're alive - all these things are carried in our veins.

For women, blood spilt does not always mean an injury, or pain. We are comfortable with blood, in a way men are not, and can never be - just as we are comfortable with penetration.

But for blood to be taken in violence - that is taking away our power over our own bodies, something that should belong to us, and only us.

Don't feel entitled to anything you didn't sweat and struggle for. ~ Marian Wright Edelman

It's only in the last few months, I've become aware of what a visceral person I am. I've always known I'm a sensual, earthy person - I love to touch and be touched, to run my hands along the garden walls as I walk down the street, to feel the texture of leaves, bring my fingers close and breathe in the scent of rosemary, lavender, or rose. I want and need beautiful things around me, and I adore running my eyes over the curves of my female friends, drinking in their shape, their plump dimpled elbows, or slender pointed hip bones, with equal pleasure. The sound of my partner's orgasm can bring me to climax - voice and tone are essential to good sex, for me. I love to have texture and taste in my mouth, I want to experience my lover's body, I need to drink it in, drink it down.

I sometimes find myself 'scenting' people close to me, or those I'm drawn to. Something will trigger a need, and I will just rub my head, urgently, against them. I love it when people sweat - people who I want in my life. I want to cover myself in it, rub myself in it, sleep covered in it. I want to combine my scent with theirs, to make a group scent - pack.

What higher compliment can there be that someone thinks you are worth their toil, their sweat?

If I were to die and I could come back as anything, I would want to come back as one of your tears. What girl wouldn't want to be conceived in your heart, born in your eyes, live on your cheek, and die on your lips. ~ anon

Can there be any pleasure/pain more profound than being hurt by the one you love until you cry? Why are my tears so arousing to the one who's causing them? The vulnerability, the humiliation - shedding tears is normally something done in secret, a private thing, shared only with those most intimate with us. It is an action willingly chosen - crying..sobbing...these things are normally caused by events or people outside ourselves. We are not in control, when we cry.

I confess to sometimes putting on extra mascara and eyeliner in the knowledge that my eyes will start to run, as I choke on cock, or even better, my sobs and tears from pain will prettily blacken my face. I take an erotic pleasure from crying that is rooted in the sense of being exposed...opened...and not by choice.

When my friends and loved ones let me see them cry, I am honoured. They share with me a part of themselves that few others get to see, and I treasure it, and treat it with the respect it deserves.

The measure of your life will not be in what you accumulate, but in what you give away ~ Wayne Dyer

I am a cum whore. Unashamedly. I adore cum. Fresh, scalding hot spunk surging out of a man's balls, as he empties himself onto, or into me - if I haven't already orgasmed myself, there's a very good chance that will trigger it, just by sight and feel alone.

The taste of it - my god, why would anyone waste that? Spit or swallow - are you mad?! Who wouldn't want to drink down their lover's seed, carry it around inside them, deep in their belly, for as long as possible. Especially if you have to be apart afterwards...it's a way to keep a piece of your loved one with you, for a little longer.

I've never understood women who say they can't deep throat either. What does that mean? How can you not? Do they mean that they gag? Isn't that part of the fun?

I like to sleep clothed in a loved one's cum, wrapped in their sweat and their arms - the safest place I can be. It's beautiful - it's a beautiful thing.