7/9/20

Just the other night as I was lying in bed in that twilight state of consciousness, I suddenly realized that I was embedded in a vivid, though dimly-lit, sensory-rich. spontaneous fantasy. I was on a bed, having worked my way down the satisfying, naked body of some woman, now passionately engaging in cunnilingus. I became aware in the midst of it, and as it continued to go on as I was sort of half in it, half in observer mode, I thought to myself: What the fuck is this? What the hell is going on?

Unless I’m masturbating and deliberately engaging in a sexual fantasy, this was unusual for me. My brain has never burped up sexual scenareos in the twilight state, at least so far as I recall; the fantasies and images that play out in my head in the in-between place are typically either terrifying, as when I find images of Gray aliens staring down at me impossibly close, or relaxing, such as images of water, nature settings, and the like.

I felt shallow. Primitive. And given as its closing in on a decade without sex and I’m not confident it will ever happen again, I shouldn’t be experiencing an involuntarily hypersexed imagination now, at 41 years of age. It immediately became obvious to me that I needed to quit watching so much porn, maybe stop viewing it entirely, as it was clearly infecting my brain.

Then, this morning, I awoke from a dream in which I was going down on girl while she was sitting across from some other girl at a table. She had literally asked for it — or perhaps in some way demanded it, as it feels as though I owed her this or something, or it was in exchange for something else. In any case, I didn’t mind — until getting down there, that is. My tongue was entirely disoriented in the bush. It was so hairy I couldn’t feel out the lips or clit. I was just diving, lost in a thick mesh of curly follicles.

Suddenly, I woke up cold, shivering. The sensation seemed immediate and intense. I know I had the fan on in the other room, but it couldn’t have been that cold, especially that suddenly. Confused, I just covered myself up in my bedsheet and comforter and tried to go back to sleep.

And it’s true, that two times may be nothing more than a coincidence, but personally, I don’t fucking think so.

I’ve only eaten out one woman in my life, and that was Anne, my ex-girlfriend from years ago. In fact, she turned me on to quite a few new things sexually since I first met her, when I was about sixteen. She took my virginity, for one thing. She introduced me to spanking. Her and I watched porn while fucking on her couch. We even fucked on a chair, which was a new experience, which was pretty damn satisfying — until the abrupt introduction of the cold, wet nose of her Greyhound, anyway.

So many other experiences could have been had, too, if my sexual imagination was as kinky back then as its become. So it goes, I suppose.

And toward the end, before the tie between us was severed entirely due to my idiocy, I began the practice of going down on her. I remember the look on her face when I could see it, when her back wasn’t arched and the top of her head wasn’t digging into the pillow, her body waving like the sea. The noises she made left me feeling powerful and creative, as if I were playing some living, musical instrument. Her inner thighs would clamp down on my ears like a vice, and it reminded me of when I was a kid and put sea shells to my ear, hoping to hear the ocean, as the old wives tales told. This warm, wet, fleshy vice worked even better.

More recently, diving in the muff has featured in a lot of the porn I’ve been watching while intoxicated. I rarely turn to porn during the evenings when I’m just smoking pot, but when I both drink and smoke, it almost seems to be an inevitability. I begin writing, working on a post like this or a more enduring writing project. Then, as the inebriation heightens, I turn to writing poetry that I post on another blog and which often either confuses or embarrasses me if I’m foolish enough to read them later, in an entirely sober state of mind. Ultimately, I either go to the porn folder on my laptop or punch in search terms ona search engine used exclusively for porn, likely adding to the aforementioned folder in the process. These videos are almost exclusively pmv (porn music videos) or videos with a dark, magickal edge to them (some o.t.o. videos come to mind, as well as some Ophelia Rain videos). A few of the videos I watch regularly feature a variety of kinky shit, though a consistent theme within them has been, you guessed it, the guy eating the girl out.

I’ve also come to save select porn videos, and though for years I was able to keep a promise to myself that I would only watch porn in the high-and-drunk state, I’ve relatively recently come to watch them when I jerk off before work.

The routine is this: jerk off before bed, then jerk off before work. If you’re too damned drunk to achieve climax before bed, jerking off before work (which almost never fails to bear fruit) is a necessity. Otherwise the chances greatly increase that I will be a hypersensitive, hypertense, easily-enraged and remarkably insensitive asshole that day. Anxiety is more likely. Depression is more likely.

So perhaps porn working its way into my sober state of consciousness could be a variable here, could explain why this activity has recently manifested in the semiconscious twilight and dreaming states. Along with the aforementioned nine years of no sex, of course.

Most of the time, when I have dreams or spontaneous fantasies, I have an unofficial process. I write down quick notes so as not to forget and then later work at fleshing them out. I contemplate their potential meaning to the best of my ability and then do a Google search for the predominant symbols in the dream and explore them, seeing if they make sense in the context of the dream as well as my waking life. It rarely provides an answer, but almost always helps. I didn’t do that with respect to today’s dream, or the earlier fantasy, for that matter — at least until now — and I usually do it more or less immediately. Which makes me suspicious of myself. Which made me do it just now.

As a dream symbol, cunnalingis can mean many things: the desire to please, which can include the unselfishness of oral sex as well as using your mouth, or the words we speak, to move people, like playing a glorious song on a musical instrument. It suggests an attention to detail, as in “hitting the spot” through muff-diving or through effectively articulating yourself.

So does the fantasy and dream suggests higher aspirations or merely reflect my intensifying sexual desires? Is it just a convenient metaphor, or should it be taken literally?

Fucked if I know. And I haven’t been in some time, hence my total ignorance on this matter.