Sex and imagination

No.

I want to invest this act with romance, with feeling, with emotion, with story, with magic. I want to screw everything up as tight as possible. I want to curl my toes, to cross my arms, to squint my eyes, to clench my pelvic floor and to go inside of myself, to that dark, deep universe. To go to that nameless endless cosmic space that is inside me and profoundly outside of me,  because it is outside of space and time. I want to be taken to that place, to be held and rocked, my body in comfort so that I can disconnect and journey there, to that expanse of dark power, glorious beauty, endless triumph. I want to forget I am observed, I must be able to feel wild, unrestrained, to use the intense pleasure of my body to escape my body, to abstain from this reality, just for a minute, just for a moment.

This is the seat of my power. This is ecstasy.

And for it I need complicity.

The denial of the story, the dismissal of the she-magic, has broken my heart.

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