My sex-writing brain is a car that hasn't been started in weeks. I've been walking around instead. Across damp fields in rubber boots and a plaid jacket, down to the marshy edge of the river. I stoop to dip my hand in the water. Canada geese swim by in pairs.
Or I've been riding my bicycle, long distances down blacktop country back roads. Sunlight steers me into the wind. Across the covered bridge, looping around and back up Route 123. Past empty fields and rusting satellite dishes, over the river again, past the cemetery, to home.
I still love my car though. I'm looking at her right now. She sits at the end of the driveway, ready when I need her.
What do you suppose would happen if I were to stick the key in and crank it?
~ First off I want to be clear about something. That reference to snow in my previous entry--that was a weird fluke, a weather anomaly. All of that was gone within a day and a half. We're back to warm seasonal weather, temperatures well into the twenties. In other words, sex on the front lawn is totally in effect.
Come on over. I will lay you down on a soft carpet of rapidly greening grass, and warm breezes will caress every part of your body that's not already busy being caressed by me.
~ I don't know anybody in the village and I prefer it that way. I keep to myself. All my affairs are with out-of-towners, less chance of getting shot that way.
A few weeks ago a blonde angel came down from a raincloud for a visit. Good food, good company, good times.
At the time I was feeling like it was the end of the world because I had gone nine days without having sex. Nine days. I'm celibate. I'm a monk. Mister Not Action.
Turns out for her, it had been more like five or six months. It's all a matter of perspective, really. So maybe I have three or four encounters a month, as opposed to three or four a week like when I lived in the city. I'm getting used to the slower pace.
~ I have to say that I love living alone. Sometimes I get out of the bathtub and forget to put on clothes. Sometimes I just walk around all day with my hand on my noodle. My solo love life has gotten quite a bit crazier out here. It's certainly gotten louder.
This isn't the first time I've lived in isolation, and one thing I remember from before is that addiction to pornography is a real danger. I've been looking at porn pretty much every day. I'm not going to dwell on the negative aspects, which I've written about elsewhere. Instead, I'll stay optimistic, and quote my favourite statement ever on Internet porn (courtesy of GeekSlut): "Internet Porn. Man, so easy to just lean back and blow a short load while watching some slut get nailed."
See, it's so simple, what's to get worked up about?
Unlike a lot of porn consumers, I've never been prone to "porn escalation," where you need stronger doses of more extreme stimuli until you're utterly bored by anything that doesn't involve fourteen dildoes and a champagne bottle. If anything, I'm the opposite. Right now I'm happy just looking at pictures of pretty girls with no clothes on. My imagination takes care of the rest.
Plus I made preparations. In the weeks before leaving Halifax I made sure to take my video camera with me everywhere I went. No question about it, the hottest porn is homemade. (Keep those pictures coming, by the way. It's a great way to keep me coming...)
~ Speaking of amateur porn styles. Ever since I got my lady friend all up against the piano (piano.mp3), the piano has become a thoroughly erotic instrument for me.
I've been on the lookout for "piano porn." Piano porn is a form of lesbian smut which starts off with two women at a piano, and then eventually the clothes come off and the real playing starts.
It often happens that my favourite part of a photo series is the very first picture. I'd like to start a photo gallery called "01.jpg," featuring the initial pictures from a bunch of photo shoots. The clothes haven't come off yet, but there's definitely something horny going on. The situation is poised to explode with erotic potential.
It's especially hot in piano porn because there's usually some kind of student-teacher dynamic going on. One of the ladies sits eagerly on the bench and the other one leans over her like an evil temptress instructor who's about to corrupt her student.
Here's an example, featuring dream girl of the century Kyla Cole getting set to perform Erik Satie's "Gymnopédies Nos. 1-3."
I mean it's great to see Kyla all naked and munching carpet, but that photo turns me on the most out of all of them because it reminds me in a way of real life, such as when I'm talking to someone and the situation contains the seed of all the hard-core action that is to follow, and I know it, often before she even knows it, and y'all wonder why I'm just smiling all the time.
So anyway. Send me links to piano porn, or to your favourite 01.JPG's.
Hot Action Pak. All you have to do is plug it in.
Too fuckin' right, baby.
