Capacity for Pleasure

My morning thoughts today: Sooo tired, bone achingly so, but happy and calm. My skin feels less and less like my own as I grow older, even as my body’s shape and weight fluctuations, firmness, and space-taking strength becomes more comfortable. It’s taken me decades to look in a mirror and not see an enemy staring back…

I love the struggle of my day: a head that wants, and a spirit who sits still to listen for what the self is actually saying. My brain is too tired to write for the lack of sleep I am currently enduring, and my body wants all of the things, experiences and connections, too quickly for digestion. I volley back and forth in my head about fantasies I am too afraid to ask for in person, yet I turn around and enact these very things in a room full of strangers who come by at the agreed upon time, sit and wait to see and hear what I’ve been keeping so quiet and protected…

I am my own safety, infrequently lent to singles except in moments of inspiration or the random rare chemical desire… Oh, to fall into a of cozy and careful touch, as I do those painful and challenging tests of my endurance. I might fall pieces to pieces for a sweet kindness on my skin, a spirit bigger than my own carving out time for my release. It is easier, my feral self says, to fight, bite, trust in pressure against my body than succumb to the potential trap of a caress.

My ex would throw their back out every time they got a massage. I feel that instability in my heart. To love the everything which I am made of, embodied in you and you and you is righteous and divine! To spend an elongated moment focused specifically on my pleasure for pleasure’s sake is galling, insipid, a fear with teeth and walls, a shadow I cannot find the end of. I know these things are one and the same, a microcosm and a macrocosm spiraling in and out, the never-changing parts of what makes life for the living… Still though, I find pleasure terrifying. I find it insurmountable, untrustable, a thing I want to rage at, an end. Losing myself in something I won’t need to heal from? I think implosion might be self love. I’m not so afraid of death being pain, I am afeared that unfolding into pleasure might take me first.

Play On My Friends,
~ Karin

If you like my blog, please check out my Patreon Page and support me. For one time donations click here: Support the Artist

~Thank you.

Kink Dreams Are Made of These: Truth or Dare

Come out, come out wherever you are! Check out my Truth or Dare blog and fill out your own game card. I love reading people’s entries…

TRUTH: What is the kinkiest fantasy you haven’t fulfilled yet? This was the first Truth or Dare game card I received from a reader, and there’s something so beautifully ice breaking about it, so here goes… Thank you Playful Reader!

Photo by Jonathan Beckley

First off I am horrible at designating “est”s… I tend to be pretty in-the-moment about stuff, and what I desire one minute may be far from my interests the next. Fickle? Yes I am, absolutely. I am also present and connecting to what is happening right here right now as deeply as I can manage most of the time, so it pays off in the long run… Upon considering my answer, I stumble on the questions: “what is super kinky?” and “what is kinky at all?”… There are a lot of different directions I could go with in my answer, so I’m going to start out with an exploration of these ideas, and narrow in as we go.

I’ll start here: the things I haven’t done are the kinkiest things. Once an activity has been experienced, I have a relationship with it and it becomes a pet of mine; something I know about. It ceases to be as kinky and starts to be an activity I enjoy, or not. Yet another way to look at this pandora-like box we’re opening is: what is “not kinky”? I remember when I was in high school and my partner wanted to tie my hands up with silk scarves during sex. I didn’t understand why. I didn’t know it was a thing yet, and I was willing to try — sure, why not? But the idea didn’t turn me on. I didn’t know what it was for, and it didn’t end up doing anything for me. I simply couldn’t use my hands during sex, and I really like using my hands, so it felt like more of a weird hindrance than a sexy new challenge to get my juices flowing. It was a fun idea nevertheless, and I like trying new things, so we did it a couple times; it just didn’t really ever develop into a thing between us… Skip to years later, and I had a partner with whom I enjoyed a lot of kinky fun with; the idea of being tied up and fucked or having clothespins put on me, or any number of other creative games was super hot to me at that point… So something got processed for me between these two moments in time. I had been introduced to an idea as a naive person; in the time since then I had the experience of being employed in a sex store and gained lots of creative knowledge about what sex could look like; and in time my brain figured out what to do with the idea of being tied up — I found lots of ways to make the experience both desired and pleasurable.

I’ve said a couple different things here: in my first experience, being tied up wasn’t sexy or kinky, it was a sensual experiment that no one really got off on (to my knowledge or memory); in the second instance being tied up was definitely kinky and fun and something I got worked up about — something so hot it became a sex act in and of itself. Add that dichotomy to my first premise that, “the things I haven’t done are the kinkiest things”, and we have data that looks pretty contradictory… So what’s happening here?

  1. When I’ve experienced something it gets less kinky to a certain degree and becomes a normalized activity.
  2. If I don’t already know about something or desire it myself, trying something new doesn’t necessarily feel kinky to me, it might feel boring or oppressive instead of fun.
  3. After I’ve processed an idea, and know enough about it to be curious, it can become kinky to me, desired, and therefore more pleasurable to try out… and we cycle back to #1…

I’m going to give power here to the idea that “knowing” is an important aspect of feeling turned on. At least for me it is. I’ll add in there “chemistry” is too. I get turned on by different people in different ways, and what might feel like the best scene/activity ever with person A, might be a completely boring or strong rejection material for playing with person B. Very few people do I get genital-sex desirous of or curious about. I am more kink-slutty with people in general. Sometimes I can do both of those things (“sex” and “kink”) with the same person; sometimes I can only do one or the other; sometimes what I want to do with someone develops after a long period of time; sometimes things are hot and heavy and really open at first, and then cool off after a few experiences…

Why is it important to look at all that? Well, because when I tell you some of the ideas that turn me on — the ones that I would consider the kinkiest fantasies I haven’t fulfilled yet — there’s a truth in there about the fact that some (maybe all) of those things feel kinky and sexy to me specifically because they are fantasies. These things would not be kinky or sexy in reality if they were being done with the wrong people, and some of these things might fail to be sexy or kinky if done with the right people if they’re done in a way that doesn’t feel safe to me. What I like about my fantasies is that I can use them to get off. Period. I don’t really “need” more. My psychology during fantasy time is processing edges and emotions in a way that is technically safe (’cause it’s all in my head) yet at the same time still unsafe feeling to talk about or acknowledge out loud with partners (or people in general) because I fear judgement or rejection or any other number of things I worry about on the daily. That very juxtaposition is what makes the fantasies feel kinky. Which means, in part, that the very kinkiness of them is attached to the “in my head-ness” of them.

I feel as though many people would say rape fantasies are the kinkiest or scariest or least healthy kinks to explore. I disagree with this, as I think exploring our boundaries, fears, traumas, etc. can be potentially healing and strengthening (done in the right ways at the right times). I definitely have rape fantasy scenarios in my bag of mental tricks. Maybe someday I’ll meet the right people and I’ll have some scenario enacted that will move that fantasy into a kink exploration… oh no, wait… I have actually. At kink camp I participated in an organized forced sex/physical abuse kinky gang bang as a bottom, and now that I’m thinking of it I’ve also enacted fantasy scenes that were con/non-con (consensual non-consent), and I’ve explored aspects of being forced to do something within partnerships and found it pleasurable (and not) on varying levels… Ok, scrap that one (if you want more in depth stories, make a game card of your own!). I think I jumped to that one because I don’t feel like  I’ve explored it fully or in specific ways yet.

So, I think I’ll have to go with kidnapping. There are a couple groups of people I would love to be kidnapped by… Oh, wait! I have been kidnapped before too, but it was before I ever thought about the idea as a kink — it was a really lovely and surprising gift from a group of amazing people I worked with on my last day of work — in the days before I was out to myself as kinky. Again though, I think because I wasn’t thrown in the back of a trunk, maybe I feel like it didn’t count? Hmmm…

Perhaps surprisingly to many, I’ll have to go with an AMAB/AMAB/Me threesome (or moresome) including double penetration and being used. That is something I fantasize about and have never done, and I’m rating the est part of kinkiest by how challenging the fantasy feels to me emotionally when I think of it. Other fantasies/curiosities I haven’t explored yet I have more warm-fuzzies about, but this scenario for me is interesting and scary, and that is an emotional mix (within the confines of my brain) I really get off on. If the group could be as Tom of Finland about it as possible, that would really do it for me. I fantasize about being some Master’s boy, used to serve their whim at their discretion, with their friends, to be fucked/beat/whatever as they see fit… So there you go.

Funny, but I think this scenario may be way less kinky to a lot of people, than a lot of activities I actually regularly enjoy on a successful Saturday night. However, genital sex is a boundary of mine that I have a ton of controls around. It is something I feel really unsafe about with most people, even though as a sexual animal I desire it regularly. So for me, breaking out of that controlled mentality and playing with those boundaries feels really kinky. Maybe someday I’ll meet the right group of people to unlock that one with…

Thanks for asking, who’s up next?!

Play On My Friends,
~ Karin

If you like my blog, please check out my Patreon Page and consider supporting me, or just click here: Support the Artist

~Thank you.

Enjoy the Whips, Yet Some Days are Soft

If you’re in the mood for playing, fill out a card for my Truth or Dare game, and then please, read on…

Happy Solstice my Friends,

Today is the shortest day, the Winter’s begin, yet we’re deep in cold times already. Now begins the lengthening of days. Our world rebirths hard and grows millimeter by millimeter until the Sun, high in its sky, origin of our dancing feet comes slowly unwound again. Mid-summer was that time, and today we are bottoming.

A good reminder I think, that we cycle.

I’m out of focus, and it’s right to be.

I’ve been dreaming lately, every night. Of magic and blood, of old friends coming back to me, and symbols I’ve not understood become clear. I’ve dreamed about the things I’m afraid of and the things I think I want. The dark has been in my bones for months; I’m curious and wanting to see the shifting of my desires, like the changing of season, lean this way instead of that.

I’ve been creating rituals daily: Push-ups, stretching, floss, toothbrushing, shower, practices, meditation, clear the desk and let my hands move over the ingredients in my cabinet. Sage, san paulo, feathers of various variety, a squirrel tail, horn, my bowl, my blood, a piece of wood, paper and pen, string, pouches, art pieces, rocks, insects, seeds, and flowers. They are the gatherings of my meditations on trails, in shops, from gifts, or because they reminded me of a moment and I picked them up. Candles and wax on my skin. Fire. Moon water. Breathing. Animal smells. Releasing ideas. Letting new ones come.

Today I let myself go for a moment, it was what I needed to do. I come to this writing full-up with emotion, tired mind behind aching eyes, heavy fingers, yet the desire specifically to write to you.

You sustain me, Reader. I receive thanks from friends, from fans, and other artists. Each letter like a cool palm against my back so soothing to the hideous animals rocking and screaming inside. Moments I fear I will die are calmed. This world of money instead of touch. My talents are appreciated but won’t pay the rent. This struggle I’ve played through, over and over my whole damn life. Sometimes the cycles are short, sometimes put off for a time, but always the highs and the lows cycle back.

  • What value are the pictures people create that give you knowledge?
  • The words that move you?
  • The musical notes which wear you out on the dancefloor?
  • The people playing on a stage who have your breath?

All these are feelings you feel because someone reached into their own heart — a heart so much like yours — and told you like it is deep inside… The honesty of art.

We need more of that today. I know it, you know it, nothing more to say.

Fear though. How do we divorce from the seductive and silencing distress of fear? A polarizing spell that keeps us separated and safe from all those “others”… How do we open then, laugh at ourselves unabashed, listen artfully, strip naked for one another?

I naked quite a bit.

There are people who value it, people who shy away, those who marvel at the mechanics of how it’s done, some who would shame me if I had any shame — but that’s the secret of being naked: there can be no shame in what you are. Born naked. Die naked. In between fuck and stare at the sky naked when you can. Feel your skin in the dirt, your heart beat against the earth, breath on the wind, water from all your moist parts, and heated flames moving you about. How quickly we forget the days of rotting under soil, our ash scattered, what it was like feeding birds and beasts and eventually the bees until we became nothing again. Broken down. Until we became now; who we are; what we be. I believe in our cycle, trapped in a forever world, energy applied as it is needed… This world now is in critical need.

Listen to our bloodstreams.

Time to stop.

Dream.

To find ourselves, we have to breathe.

Both comfort and pain are our birthrights. We learn from each direction.

Play On My Friends,
~ Karin

If you like my blog, please check out my Patreon Page and consider supporting me, or just click here: Support the Artist

~Thank you.

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