Self Care

I have been going through a bit of a dry spell. A few months ago it was raining lovers, but this Saturday night I am alone. The Saturday night before I was too, and maybe the one previous. I need the time, I tell myself. It is too difficult to hold on to my writing with so many engagements. I feel it is good for me to take a step back from my relationships for a bit. A person only has so much time in a week, and I need to spend more of it on my craft. Yes. That is it. 

Meanwhile Angelinos are doing what they do best (each other) all around me. Halloween came. The magical holiday when everyone is out to find a hook up. I went out (barely) dressed as sexy dead girl. I flirted. I danced. Nothing. I even attended an attempt at a sex party, but I met no one worth it. While I am free sexually with whom I desire to be, not everyone is worth letting into the temple. For instance, someone outwardly intoxicated or on drugs is strictly off the table.  Someone in a relationship that is not explicitly open, does not gain entrance. And the unenlightened and bigoted are not permitted. That cuts out most of the city. But sometimes it is better to bear it alone, rather than invite a lower vibration into your body. I walk around like a hot stone. Looking normal, but burning inside.

Most of the men who were interested in me in the summer have evaporated. I let them go, but one still lingers. Or lingered rather. It has been weeks since we have seen each other, and I get the feeling he wants to move on. One of the reasons I have loved being with him is because he thinks my body is as beautiful as I myself do, and he expresses it to me vocally consistently. And even though I am alone tonight with no one to adore my body for me, I still want a bit of adoration.

I put on Mac Miller’s last album and take off my clothes. Then I light a joint while looking in the mirror. Twirling around, I admire my unique figure, heralded by some as a work of art, and mocked by others as socially unacceptable. My hands slide with pleasure from my small firm breasts to my round hips. I catch the angle of my profound backside in the candle light with glee. I received a special gift from my creator, for I was born without shame. People have tried to teach it to me over the years. My mother. Some men. Female friends who thought I wasn’t attractive enough to warrant the kind of confidence I have. But it never took. I have no shame alone or with a lover. My body is perfect, and I love it dearly. People learn this through me and it spreads like a good STD. My dream is to share this feeling with the world through my network of lovers past, current and future. If they learn to have pleasure without shame through me, then teach it to the next, and they the next and so on, then the whole world will be united in the freedom of self love and sexual bliss. To heal the world one orgasm at a time, that is my utopia dream. 

Looking at myself posing in the mirror, blowing smoke, thinking these thoughts, I begin to wonder about being a man entering me. I am curious as to what he sees. So I squat down on my haunches the same way I squat over a man. I can see the cleft of my vulva leading into the heart shape of my buttocks. 

I really do understand why men love women. My sexual experience with them is relatively limited compared to that with men, but I have always had attraction to my own sex. Women’s bodies  feel soft and lovely, and pussy is an intoxicating thing! It really does make you want more and more. Just seeing the reflection of my own so open and vulnerable, has me excited, and I can feel wetness rushing to the crevice. I touch myself there, feel the squishy hotness of my lips, and sigh. 

It is true that some men know how to touch a woman’s clitoris, but I always know best. I use my middle finger to identify the bud, then move in circles around it in a smooth steady rhythm. Using the mirror, I study the natural movement of my hand, then my flat stomach and small waist. I could make myself come like this, but I decide in the moment to prolong this ritual. I push into my heels and lift my body up to standing. I like the way I look doing this, so I go back down and push up again, amusing myself and giggling a little. I can’t help shaking my ass at myself. If I am going to deliver some self care, I should have fun with it and be lighthearted. Sometimes someone else can spoil the game. Being here alone tonight, maybe I have rekindled a love affair with myself. I had been so caught up in my lovers and their pheromones, maybe I lost a little of me in the meantime. Tonight, I take it back. 

After posing on all fours, and observing myself from every conceivable angle, I want a different visual stimulation, so I go on Redtube. I love those porn plots where the stepmom catches the daughter masturbating and decides to teach her how to orgasm by going down on her. Or the massage that turns sexual. It’s all pretty hilarious, but I fall for it almost every time. 

One of my favorite porn stars (besides Kendra Sunderland, who is the Queen) is Elsa Jean. She is very tiny, tiny boobs, tiny ass, but she has the most unique pussy. It looks like a flower. You can’t take your eyes of it, and she loves to come and does so frequently. In the scene I am watching, she is resisting her friends’ efforts to engage her in a three way les sess. She is sitting on arm of the couch making a disgusted face, until they manage to get her to spread her legs. Then bam, that crazy pussy is out and the two girls cannot resist. They dive in together, then take turns kissing it. Elsa becomes a creature whose only goal is to orgasm repeatedly. The most fervent of them all, she terrorizes them with her desire to please and be pleased. I am enjoying this, but I am thinking of my summer past, and all the new experiences had. I think about Janelle. Her pussy tasted like butter pecan ice cream. Does every woman taste like that? I taste my fingers, and indeed I do. I get excited by my smell and rub the juices all over my mouth, so it will linger.

I am watching Elsa insert two fingers into one friend, as she is being eaten out from behind by the other, and I am flashing back to my small handful of lesbian experiences. Not nearly enough, I think. I want more. I come, tasting my musk on my lips, eyes locked on Elsa, and she is looking back at me. Encouraging me to come as hard as I can, making that satisfied face she makes when she delivers a  climax. I am surging through every experience I have ever had or will ever have, every lover past and future. I feel them all running through me one by one to guide me through my soul’s journey.

After I return, I turn off my lovely Elsa, and close my eyes in the candlelight. I drift off to a dream of flying over the ocean. I am pulled up with the sound of a Ding!

It is Leo, one of my lovers from the summer.  

-Hey baby. You busy tonight?

Yeah, babe, I am. I gotta date with me.