Desultory and Impulsive

[JustAnotherFlower]

All the possibilities of this place for photo shoots are almost endless. If only there were someone other than myself to shoot

*volunteers services*

 

[y=mx+b]

*volunteers services*

Such provides a nice thought to think.

 

[JustAnotherFlower]

Such provides a nice thought to think.

But...who will be in charge of the artistic direction?

 

[y=mx+b]

But...who will be in charge of the artistic direction?

See and that's the thing.

You do a great job on your own.

 

[y=mx+b]

I drempt the wife of our neighbor
--who by marriage is also our neighbor
Wanted nude pictures taken

Or... she talked about it.


In my dream I went over to visit
She got naked and said "I was thinking of something like this..."

All I had to take pics was my cellphone

So I took pics.

In my dream
I saw her completely naked

Well her back and add
Which... being an ass man I'm perfectly fine with

It's fucking weird though. Because the dream was so visually vivid. And inspite of having never seen her naked, I feel as though I actually did.

What's also weird
Is that in life and in my dream she had a personality counter to my own (type-A, outgoing and social. Vs my introverted introspective one)

But when we were together she mellowed and met me--on my level?

I don't know... but it was nice.

And so not only did I see her naked in my dream. I also kinda fell in love with her.

And I was like... "Goddamn it. Stop it."

And I woke up.

 

[y=mx+b]

It's a special kind of weirdness to reach the age where people you graduated with just die.

And die not because of suicide. Or tragic accident. Or an unfortunate inebriated situation. Or carelessness.

But rather because it's just what happens.

Humans die.
That's it.

Lights out.

 

[y=mx+b]

Drempt I was on some sort of vacation

There was a beach
A wooded area
And some sort of small island... Or something you could get to by walking along a narrow trail.

I was going to explore it
There was a bear cub on the trail

I stopped and yelled to scare it away
People/kids were still making their way towards trail

I was like "yo there's a fucking bear cub"

But it were as if I were a ghost only the bear cub could see.

The bear cub ran off

People/kids continued clamoring up the sandy hill trail

I was like... Bear cub equals bear mother

Sure as shit the cubs mother came running up on a woman and knocked her down with a swipe. She was bleeding from her skull. Gashed right across her forehead.

People ran
I was scared as shit but I stayed yelling.
There was another woman near the downed woman trying to get to her.

There were two small logs
I grabbed each by the end and made myself as big as I could

The bear was fixed upon me
I kept yelling and approaching

Yelling and approaching
Scared as fuck

The bear ran off and the woman was saved


The news cast that followed there was no mention of me. It was all of the woman and how she saved the other woman. All of which was true

And I watched the whole thing from the woman's house where the woman that was attacked sat in a listless dazed state. Forehead stitched from ear to ear glistening with antibiotic ointment.

It was all like this Sixth Sense type thing. No mention of me. No acknowledgement of me. The only thing that saw me were the bears. And they absolutely saw me.

But I stood in the kitchen looking at the wounded woman wondering if I was real to what mattered.

 

[y=mx+b]

His profile was simple. Honest. And read "I just want to see how many times I can fuck in a day."

She; like so many other women, was tired of hooking up. But she was more tired of guys who presented themselves as pretending to having interests other than hooking up.

She hated this guy.
His pics... arrogant.

But yet... approachable. Intriguing.

She found herself thinking. how many times could he fuck in a day?

Then she caught herself wondering how many times could I fuck in a day?

She had been fucked more than once on many occasions. And a couple of those occasions by two different men who believed her to be exclusively theirs.

But her endurance had never been actually tested.

She swiped through his pics.

Outdoorsy. Typical shirtless pics of him holding a fish. Hiking. Posing, overlooking a bluff back-lit by a setting sun looking introspective and smarter than he probably actually was.

The more she looked at him. The angrier she got at him. She didn't know him. But it was like he knew her. Knew what she wanted. And how she wanted it. And so who she hated... was herself. She hated how she wanted to not just fuck him. But out fuck him. She hated how she got lost in the thought of not only wondering how many times they could fuck in a day--but also how many different places. How many different ways. And not ways as in positions. But ways as in experiences

Brutal and eager
Slow and thoughtful
Raping and wanting
Romantic and exploratory

Kissing giving way to oral
Oral giving way to vaginal
Vaginal giving way to anal

Slapping him to get him to slap her
Her face
Her tits
Her clit

Choking her
Kissing her
Holding her head down in the toilet water

One day...
...with him

To do all the fucked up things
She wanted to do
With a man
She didn't want to love.

 

[y=mx+b]

Drempt about piglets, rats, livestock guardian puppies/dogs, my dog, violently fingering my wife with an intent to make her squirt, and being asked by a friend how I would give a handjob by demonstrating on her dildo after walking in on her blowing her husband.

 

[y=mx+b]

I want to fuck.

I want to be like that guy I wrote about prior to my previous post.

To be single and create a tinder account and just cut the bullshit.

Be all like...

I don't give a shit about fishing or sports. I have no hobbies. I hate people and the only hiking I do isn't for the love of the outdoors but done to clear my head from the pain of loss. It never works. But you know what does? Laying alone on my bed and smelling the fuck sweat of a woman on my sheets and body after she left.

 

[y=mx+b]

I've been thinking about sex
As per usual

And how I'm thankful as fuck I'm not like the guy I wrote above and am married to a woman that enjoys fucking and being fucked by me.

I put the squeeze on her last night.

Mounted her from behind
Hooked my elbows above her hips and instead of putting my hands on the bed I ran my arms up along the side of her ribs and grabbed hold of her just below her armpits

I could feel the jostling of her breasts with my fingertips

And I squeezed my elbows and hands together as if I were doing a sustained fly press at the gym and it was fucking hammer time. RWAR!

Small beads of sweat formed between her shoulders and she said too much... can't breath...

So I let up and grabbed her ass is if it were an unruly bowl of bread dough and toyed with the depth of my thrusting while she navigated the rising swells and choppy waters of her orgasm. Hitachi in hand.



And I have something to say right now.




I love how her asshole feels against my thumb. I fucking love it. I love just touching it and feeling it without sticking it immediately in.

I love her reaction to me touching her there. I love feeling it contract with her orgasms.

The amount of joy her body brings me is incalculable.

 

[y=mx+b]

Goddamnit.

Now I want to fuck again

 

[y=mx+b]

I hate when I do this to myself. Because it's not that I just want an orgasm. I want to fuck. I want the taste and touch and smells that go along with fucking.

And it's not like got myself feeling all exceptionally horny. I'm not sitting here writing this all hard and ready to go.

It's more like I got myself sitting here in a state of want to want to want

She's not here
And won't be here for another 7+ hours and I want her here now in spite of her just being here.

And if you want me to be honest with you right now--which I know that you do--what I really want is to feel the soft underside and side of her breast with my lips. Smelling the scent of her skin as I make my way towards her nipple in a driving want to take it into my mouth.

fml. I'm going to have this in my head all day now.

 

[y=mx+b]

Omg... laying here I just reminded of myself of the time I mastured the ability to delay/separate my orgasm from ejaculation.

This might not be for some of the men-types... but fucking hear me out.

Brief story short... I was fucking my wife and I could feel myself about to ejaculate.

I pulled out and she was all like... as I positioned myself up over her breast.

I then let it go and a came without orgasm across her breast and nipple. Still hard as fuck I lowered myself back down into her. She looked at me as I looked at her and closed my mouth around her cum covered breast and nipple.

Seeing her eyes roll back as I did. Feeling the slippery flesh of her body and thick cum in my mouth. Nursing from her what I could. Tasting myself. Cucking myself. Smelling her and I so close together. It was all 100% unprompted in the moment and perfect.

My fucking god...

 

[sammyIammy]

Now I want to fuck again

It’s been intense lately. Maybe it’s the weather.

 

[y=mx+b]

It’s been intense lately. Maybe it’s the weather.

That or the approaching summer solstice.

All I know is that I want to bury my face in an increasingly dampening crotch of a woman.

 

[y=mx+b]

The car ride home after spending a day at the park playing with the childern who belong to other parents is always strained.

We sit in silence in the afterglow of having experienced such a beautiful day.

I'll be driving.

She will be riding as the passenger
Staring out front as we pass cars and scenery. And cars pass us.

And I can feel it rise in her
As she replays the day in her head

And I can feel her fight the want to say it with her need to make it known. Just as I fight the want to hear and the cutting of having heard it

And silence goes by until she says it. Softly.








you would have made such a great father.











And I sit there.
Knowing that I would have.

 

[y=mx+b]

She was our last miscarriage
And our last hope to ever become parents.

She'd be nearing 2 years old.


We didn't want to know the gender of our child until the birth. We wanted it to be a surprise.

After the loss I'm not sure how long my wife waited to find out. Or how long she waited to tell me once she did. Knowing how the news would add more grief to our loss.


We had her
And then we didn't

I don't now
And I never will.



A daughter.
A little girl.

A little echo of my wife and I
Hope and love.

Gone.

 

[y=mx+b]

So to say that I have daughter issues
Would be an understatement.

And reflecting back upon my post about starving to fall in love...

What I was saying wasn't exactly what I was feeling inside. But the closest words I could find for the kind of bond I want and wanted to feel.

 

[AngelicaS1780]

She was our last miscarriage
And our last hope to ever become parents.

She'd be nearing 2 years old.


We didn't want to know the gender of our child until the birth. We wanted it to be a surprise.

After the loss I'm not sure how long my wife waited to find out. Or how long she waited to tell me once she did. Knowing how the news would add more grief to our loss.


We had her
And then we didn't

I don't now
And I never will.



A daughter.
A little girl.

A little echo of my wife and I
Hope and love.

Gone.

 

[y=mx+b]

I've been contemplating how far out into the deep waters I want to take this.

Wondering what the purpose of doing so serves.

It's all old news. But yet... it's still very much new. Very much real. And each day there is this something unknown that bubbles up to the surface.

Just a little something...



The second to the last we lost
Was a boy.

And just as she does
He has a name

They were the only two viable embryos.
The others carried a genetic marker for self termination.

Had things gone accordingly
We would have a son
And a younger daughter.

We talked
As couples do
And concluded that two childern would be great.

A great little family.

...maybe three.



Then that want became
For one.



Just











one...








To be honest
It's difficult for me to conceptualize
What it would be like to have a son.

And though I am male
My mind
Favors nuance and beauty
Over brash action

When I think about him...
...I don't think about the things I could teach him. But rather all the things he could teach me.

I think about how he could introduce me
Back to myself.


I think about...
...my wife's brother.

How he would come and visit
And steal him away
To hunt
And fish
And be reckless and full of fun and danger and wresting and knowledge of how things worked




I see my son as his own identity
Out conquering his world
Reporting back to me
Like an envoy to a king

Where I
The king

Would take such delight in his findings.






He was the first embryo lost.

We had one hope left.

 

[pantyboidoe]

these are all so heart-wrenching and poignant - wishing the best always and so sorry for the challenges you two have faced.

 

[MsMischka]

I've been contemplating how far out into the deep waters I want to take this.

Wondering what the purpose of doing so serves.

It's all old news. But yet... it's still very much new. Very much real. And each day there is this something unknown that bubbles up to the surface.

Grief is not linear. Your loss will ebb and flow in your thoughts, and each remembrance makes a new mark on your soul. That is the purpose, as hollow and sharp and painful as it might be. I am so very sorry for you and your wife for this loss. Wanting to take one path in life, and being denied, is gutting. It's not fair. It's not right. Spill your words, and know that we hear you.

 

[y=mx+b]

Prior to him
There were two others

Genders of which are unknown.

Ages... known only to the heart of my wife


I could ask her

But there is a cozy comfort
To this grey rainy day.


And I just want to sit with this silence inside of me.


I am certain down the road of life
We will talk about them
And I will ask her
And she will tell me

...because a mother knows.





I do not know the time between

Which was conceived first
Which was last

A year?


I do not know.


To me
In my world

They are twins.

Earth and Stars
Sun and Moon

The dragonflies along the edge of rivers
And fireflies flickering in dark meadows of night.

That is how I hold onto them.



They trouble me the most
In that they feel so distantly lost to me



I cannot see their faces
Or hear their voices

I cannot imagine myself holding onto them. Comforting their crys at night. Tending to their wounds during the day

I cannot hear my wife humming a wordless tune to them. Holding them while they nurse from her breast. Rocking them to sleep.

...but yet they are always around me.

The elements that create the reality of All. And the notion of all of it being nothing.

 

[y=mx+b]

And this brings me to the first.

The depth here is crushing.

10?
11?
12 years now?

I should know this.


Her second ultrasound visit
And check up

The tech came in
The same one we had the first time

With her was a student observing
We were asked if it was okay for her to observe.

Valuing education and experience
My wife and I were pleased. Of course it was.

The day was fresh
They were happy

There was such a feeling of newness.







The ultrasound room gets pretty dark once the lights are shut off.




The screen of the monitor lights up with the insides of my wife.

The tech clicking buttons on the computer with the deft precision of a professional with one hand while she maneuvers the wand with the other.

Sweeping
Changing angles
Pushing the tissue of my wife aside

Finding the landmarks of anatomy she knows

Travelling through space
Taking snapshots and videos





Looking for life.




















We were there
In the dark
Looking at what we were seeing


A heartbeat
That wasn't there








In her quiet voice the tech informed us
Withdrew the wand and informed us the doctor will be in.










I'm not really sure where to take this from here.


I
In so many ways
Blame myself.


None of those ways make sense.

But I still do
And I always will


Had I loved her more... had I put her first... had I cared for nothing other but her

Had my aura
And disposition of self
--been more put together...



Had I not been selfish.