Creative Chamber II

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Accoutrements… it’s all about the ambience, the window dressings, the allure, the tease. Awareness of self, confidence, care of self, appreciating the gifts one is endowed with. A willingness to share with vigor and potency, uninhibited doesn’t hurt. THIS dear reader was the stark difference, the dramatic contrast between two women in my life. On the one hand I faced denial and ice. On the other I faced revival and dice. What do I mean “dice”? Easy… it would be a roll of the dice, considering whether to go down this road or not, and the resulting benefits or consequences. My inner fire was running low on fuel. Suck me! This just wouldn’t do. I needed something, someone to reignite my thruster. I needed a muse to reenergize my creative spirit. Besides, my self pleasuring and fantasies were getting to be the only intimacy I knew anymore. Oh I could wander my paw, taking my own measure like a champ, trust me. I knew the benefits of Kegel exercises as well as anyone, and made damn certain I practiced. I approached my princely pole with adoration and due reverence, carefully şişli escort orchestrating a cadence and effect to bring myself to the brink, and then ease back, bring myself to the height of majesty, then float back to a smoldering wane, learning there was no elixir syrup as well suited for lubrication than nature’s own. The glistening escape of pre-cum always paved the way for absolute nirvana. K-Y? Not even close. I loved that slickness, and used it to great effect. My prowess was not to be diminished, I swore an oath to self. I would continue to fuck myself and imagine all the most blissful scenarios available to my lush sensual imaginings. My cock was above average based on photos I saw. Erotic scenes played out before my eyes from without (thanks Lush) and from within. The scenes I concocted… hmmmm…. conCOCKted might be more appropriate… anyway, my own pageants proved the most demure of all. I discovered that the more I practiced control, the stronger my explosive effusive projections were. Hell, it was as if I possessed a mini Old escort şişli Faithful of my own, I don’t mind admitting. Talk about a geyser… suck me! I also discovered that if I caressed my perineum, followed by my rectum, and finish off with stroking my prostrate… all while lovingly pumping my piston with careful control and timing, I could shoot to the fucking moon, and often find myself growing stimulated and my measure expanding again within a very short time period. In fact just thinking about this has me on the brink of taking a break in the next couple of minutes… ok… discipline… discipline! I’ll have to work at my typing skills I guess — you know, to where I can just as furiously type one handed as I can furiously pump my manly engorged piston with the other. Maybe I just need an assistant editor. Suck me! So… by now you might be wondering whatever happened to the “other” in my life, in this chapter. Patience dearie, it’s all in the ride, in the slow arcing curves, the slow burn, the “getting there”, which is the whole point of this mecidiyeköy exercise. She is here, there… out there, trust me. I’ve met her. Met her in dreams, met her in life. She was the extreme opposite of what I had ever known, and finally my own patience was about to pay off. The years I had spent visualizing, manifesting, honing my skills and sculpting my frame, were about to offer a ripe harvest. She was all-in when it came to matters of matching my own acute desires and needs. Not only that, but she could write with the best of them, and she was creative in other matters. She also shared many of the same appreciations for the senses, including but not limited to music. She was aware of the energy and flow that erupted from our “centers”. She was the one I desired to build a “center” of another type with, as earlier mentioned. She appreciated the slow in all accord, especially in sensual matters. She fed my appetite for more than even I imagined and brought to the table a collection of fantasies and heat beyond my wildest dreams. She knew the fine art of window dressing, and the tease, the allure. She shared openly in my ear her deepest dreams and fantasy scenarios. She was the first I’d felt open enough with (while we read to each other some of each other’s work), to openly caress myself, encouraging her to do the same.

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