I want to relax into telling you this.
Colorado is now a non-prohibition state, and I can tell you that's where I am.
I love sex. I thirst for cunt, and I drink from her when I can. There are some women I want and who want me. What gets me hot is women I love with other men. That is, direct fantasy of them sharing, making love, surrendering; hearing about it directly when I can, witnessing if ever invited.
I lure myself with their fucking, with the idea and the scene, sometimes as has been described in detail. Her sex with him may include rejection, that is, she's with her next lover or someone she chooses to be with, but not myself. I must do something with my sexual attachment and attraction to her. She knows I masturbate to her, doing what she chooses, loving who she chooses.
Her love becomes my reflection of selflove. They give me permission to make love to myself, and that self-love giving I make more honest intentionally, in part spurred by the knowledge and beauty of her surrender, to which I let go of, as it is her's.
Then I slip into a spot where I need that, I need to encounter or confront the beauty of Woman fucking whom she chooses, though not me. Not me because...I slip deeper into that soaking hot sensation of being in one's personal truth...because this is what I choose.
I know it.
They know it. She knows I face the mirror.
Her choice to fuck is a gift to me, even in its sense of loss and jealousy and envy of her beautiful exchange. And we all know, we all understand, I need to masturbate to the truth of her lovemaking, and then...surrender to the truth of my own. I choose this, a gift to myself, the gift of a mouth full of myself.