Catalytic Connections

Our relationships. They are the mirrors reflecting back our deepest selves, the canvases upon which we express our desires, fears, and yes, our vulnerabilities. Regardless of whether we be dominant, submissive, or move between any and all of those, those are things we have, as humans. Yet, amongst all types of relationships, there's an undeniable allure to the sexual ones - ones that are often a potent catalyst for self-discovery, liberation, and growth.

What are our relationships, especially the sexual ones, if not catalytic?

They are the crucibles where we dare to venture beyond the confines of societal norms and personal inhibitions. They beckon us to shed the masks we wear in our day-to-day lives and embrace the raw authenticity of our being. It's within these intimate connections that we find the courage to explore the depths of our desires, to confront our shadows, and to bask in the ecstasy of true acceptance.

For many, myself included, these relationships are more than mere physical encounters; they are the sacred and safe spaces where the soul finds solace. They are the arenas we step into where we play out the wildest fantasies of our imagination, where every touch, every kiss, every whispered confession becomes a mark within the masterpiece of our existence.

In the arms of a lover, our one, who accepts us without judgment, we find refuge from the chaos of the outside world. There, we are free to unravel the layers of our identity, to unearth the dormant passions that lie dormant within us. It is a dance of reciprocity, where pleasure is not just physical but transcendent - a merging of bodies, minds, and spirits often explored in blissful abandon.

 But beyond the ecstasy of the moment lies a deeper truth: these relationships have the power to transform us. They challenge us to confront our insecurities, to dismantle the walls we've built around our hearts, and to embrace vulnerability as a pathway to liberation, to that freedom of being who we are, how we are, what we are. It is in these moments, where we can discover parts of ourselves we never knew existed, or perhaps knew existed but were hesitant or too fearful to explore.

Yet, for all its beauty, the journey of self-discovery through sexual relationships is not without its pitfalls. It requires courage to navigate the murky waters of desire, to communicate our needs and boundaries with clarity and compassion. It demands honesty - not just with ourselves but with our partners - even when the truth is painful or inconvenient. Even when we may struggle with what that murky water uncovers.

 And therein lies the paradox: while these relationships offer us unparalleled freedom, they also demand accountability. They require us to confront the shadows lurking within us - the insecurities, the traumas, the fears that threaten to eclipse our light. But it is in this moment of transformation, and acceptance, that we can find the true essence of ourselves - not just as lovers, but as human beings striving for connection, understanding, and acceptance.  Acceptance to be who we are, how we are, and have the freedom to be that way.

 So, what ARE our relationships if not catalytic?

They are the catalysts for our evolution, the alchemists of our souls. They are the vessels through which we discover the infinite depths of our being, the boundless expanses of our potential. However, it is not the physical pleasures or the fleeting moments of ecstasy that define these relationships. It is the profound sense of connection, of being seen and accepted for who we truly are.

 It is the knowledge that, in the arms of a lover who embraces us without judgment or inhibition, we are free to explore, to play, to be, to LIVE - authentically, unapologetically, and wholly ourselves.  And that, is something to be embraced, valued, treasured, nurtured.

 

Kiss

I think kissing is the most pure and raw form of physical contact there could ever be. 
Sex is intimate, sure, but you can have sex with anyone. A kiss though, my god. A kiss can change your world. A small touch between two pairs of lips can blow your mind. Whether it be short and sweet, or long and intense. And when you find someone that looks at you like you’re more beautiful than a blossoming rose; you never want to feel another’s lips against yours ever again.  - The Purity of a Kiss - (jpzg)

Space

In the quiet of the darkness, I feel the distance between us like a weight pressing down on my chest. I find myself tracing the contours of distance, a vast expanse that seems to widen despite my longing for closeness. 

Is it you drifting or me fading into the backdrop of uncertainty? 

Your absence echoes in the empty spaces of our shared moments, and the silence between us grows louder than any words we could exchange. I yearn for the closeness, for the warmth and the sound of your voice filling the void within me.

As I lie awake, consumed by thoughts I can't help but feel the ache of longing in every fibre of my being. The inner beast within me stirs restlessly, craving the connection that seems to be lost to the passage of time and distance. They were like sleeping beasts, their presence felt but their roar muted, waiting for the catalyst to awaken them from their rest. Then, you came into my life like a gentle breeze on a still night, a whisper that stirred the depths of my soul. Your presence kindling flames where there were once only embers, igniting a fervour that courses through my veins as if you've unlocked a hidden chamber within me, revealing desires and longings I knew existed but have not felt for so long.

Yet, memories flicker like distant stars in the night sky, beautiful yet unreachable, leaving me to navigate the darkness alone. I long to feel your presence, to share even in the mundane moments yet I find myself adrift in a sea of uncertainty, unsure of where we stand or if we stand at all. It feels fragile, like a thread stretched thin, threatening to snap at any moment. And yet, amidst the longing, there are moments of clarity, moments when I can still see you clearly. In those moments, I am reminded of the beauty that lies within you, and feel the intensity of how much I want you and how much I wish you were here.

But then, just as quickly as it comes, the moment fades, leaving me alone once more, grappling with the emptiness that fills the space between us. 

And so I wait, counting time hoping against hope that someday soon, you will be here, and we will be connected. 

Barricade!!

 

Live with the door wide open? 

What the actual fuck is that all about?  Whose idea was that one?  

Thinking that it would be OK, that it could be ok?

Let's not keep it open.

Let's not just push it shut, let's slam it shut.

No!

Let's lock it.

No!

Let's fucking barricade it!

An unexpected surprise

As I savoured the taste of my extra hot latte before getting stuck into the work on the table in front of me, my glance was drawn to someone walking past the table.

Without needing to look up past waist height, I recognised the walk anywhere. I’d seen those legs walk towards me and away from me often enough. I’d studied them closely, intimately so many times before. 

Yes they were often naked, or in stockings, or trying to master the heels I’d make you walk in for my amusement. But I’d still recognise them as I did now, fully clothed, your tailored suit trousers outlining the shape of your body just as they’d always done. 

I felt my sharp intake of breath as my mind battled with the thoughts of you being here. That in all the coffee shops, in all of the world and in a random decision I’d made to work from there this morning instead of at home, you were here. That we were here. In the same place. At the same time.

I tried to avert my gaze. I tried to stop myself staring. Yet I couldn’t. 

I don’t think I wanted to. 

Not really.

I sat back in my chair, picked up my cup, and savoured the coffee as I watched you walk to the counter to order yours. My heart raced despite how hard I tried to suppress it. 

It had been how long since I’d seen you?

Years. Yes. 

But goodness, it could have been only moments ago. 

My eyes couldn’t break their stare. I drank in every part of you just as I drank my coffee and as you started to turn with your coffee in your hand I knew you’d sensed being watched. And for a few seconds the world seemed to stop. There were no sounds. No people. Just you and I. A gaze locked and an electricity that was undeniable.

Your face changed from a moment of shock, of surprise, to the warmth of your smile as your cheeks began to blush and you lowered your eyes. 

Fuck! 

No matter how much time may have passed, the way you blushed still got me. 

The way you looked at me still made me want to touch you, kiss you, hurt you. Your eyes looked for a signal, to know just as you’d always done, whether it was ok to approach. And as I nodded, just as I’d done so many times before feelings coursed through my body.

You sat opposite me and said hello in an almost gentle whisper, you stopped yourself adding Miss to the hello. I smiled at you and at the fact that even after all this time, you naturally stepped into a way of being. It touched me deeply.

A natural silence.

I knew you were going to wait for me to speak, and so I sat back in my chair, watching you, seeing the reactions of your body, your flushing cheeks, your smiling eyes. I remembered what it had been like to hold your face in my hands, to kiss and bite your lips, to whisper ‘Mine’ in your ear. And as memory after memory flooded my mind, we drifted into a conversation like the years between this and our last had never happened. 

From the lead lined box

I’ve had reasons to talk about you recently. Sharing the memories and experiences of the FLR that we lived for all those years. I know my words do not really do it justice. I know they do not bring you, I, or ‘we’ to life. And that’s because I don’t want to bring those moments of you and I back to life. 

They are a part of life.

But a past life. 

The life that was you and I. 

I know each part of life we live and the people we may share it with is unique. And I also need to be open, to sharing those things because they’re a part of who I am too.

And, that’s what makes those moments as they are.

They are moments, memories in the recess of the mind. They’re the moments that are placed, like you are, into the lead-lined box that’s high up on the shelf out of reach. They’re the moments that carry such beauty and pain, of submission, service and dominance, yet carry with them the pain that makes the heart hurt in ways that it once felt that heart, MY heart, would never truly feel again. 

It is very rare that I go back there really, it’s one of those things that switches between the fondest of beautiful fucking memories, the beauty of your submission, the depths of the feelings we had to the immense pain and loss when all was lost. It is memories of one of those goodbyes in life that I think will always remain because of how hard it was, but also because it wouldn’t have been so hard if what was shared hadn’t been as it was.

In those shared moments you and I could truly be who and how we are, our needs no matter what, were there to be embraced and fulfilled. They are the moments where darkness was embraced and accepted and allowed to come out in the beautiful depraved moments explored together. 

Never made to feel less than. You placed me on a pedestal. Adored. Worshipped. You were cared for. Loved. I can still picture the marks on your skin, the way your tears would fall from the corner of your eye and track the same path down your face. I can still hear your words, your pleading, your begging, the sounds you made when your relief was granted. I recall the changing limits that grew with your trust, with your love, with your need to submit as you gave up more and more to me and which I lovingly and totally took. I can see the pain in your eyes as you watched me with him, wishing it were only you and yet accepting that it wasn’t. The twisting of your heart. The marks upon your skin. Of biting your lips, your neck. Of denying you. Of making you suffer and your suffering even more, because you know how much I needed it, yet you know you needed it too.

Yet despite all of these moments. 

Beautiful moments. 

The worst thing of all, is if I allow myself to, I can still feel the last touch, the last kiss. I can still hear the final goodbye. The last words. 

The last breath. 

The last sigh. 

The last tear. 

And that’s not fucking beautiful at all. 

And so, in that lead-lined box like a coffin you reside, because my heart can never go back there.

Because I don’t want to.  

But I still hope that maybe, one day, there’ll be an opportunity for beautiful memories and beautiful moments to be lived. With someone who has such beauty in their own submission, to feel the depths of what I know is possible, to explore and share the deepest and darkest with them and to create our own unique beautiful memories that take their own special place in the heart and in life. 

We may be able to move on from some things, we may even be able to forget others, one thing I cannot forget is who I am, how I am, and what I need. 

I truly learned all of that because of you. 

And for that, I will always share you in a way that I can. In a way, I hope my heart allows. 

With fondness, with truth, with love.

Words for the boys, I've loved. Loved enough to hurt.

Words for the boys, I've loved. Loved enough to hurt.

1. I've never forgotten all of the firsts that you and I shared. The moments, the times, the depravity, the sensuality. I'll never forget that you handed me your heart. as I shared mine. I'll never forget the look in your eyes as we twisted your heart to make it hurt, the pain, the release, the love. I'll never forget how together for so many years, we enabled each other to be the person we were, the person we needed to be, the person we are. I'll never forget all that you gave, all that you took. I'll never forget what might have been, what could have been, but was never meant to be. I'll never forget you. I'll never forget.

2. We were connected you and I, in a way that surprised us both, with a connection that kept bringing us back over so many years, even though we knew that it wasn't meant to be.  I remember the tears that fell as a result of the spanking, the paddle or the twisting of the heart. But most of all, I remember the tears that fell the day that we had to walk away, the tears that came with the final goodbye. I'll always remember that pain, a pain like no other. I'll always remember you. 

3. You're included here because I loved you enough to hurt you, the reality is that love wasn't enough. While we did so much more than fuck, you fucked it up. There's nothing else to be said.

4. Oh god. I remember the beauty of your submission.  I remember your touch, your presence, your worship.  I remember your mouth against my toes, my skin, my cunt.  I remember the hours that passed as we talked through the night, of how determined you were to never fall asleep before I, the insomniac. I remember the emotional gifts that you gave to me, the way you permitted me to leave my mark upon your skin, the way you put your life into my hands as I took the breath away from your body.  I remember your acceptance of your place within my life, as I accepted your need to submit as a cuckold boy. I can still hear you beg for me to hurt you. I can still see the hurt and pain in your eyes that filled with love, as your tears fell, while you watched he and I fuck. I can still hear you gag the first time you took his cock into your mouth after it had come from inside of me. I can still hear the words "I'm yours", the sound of your voice, the touch of your hands, the beauty of you as you lay broken at my feet and still wanted more. I can still remember the depths of your submissive self. I can remember the love you had, the love you showed, the love we shared. 

5. It infected you. It affected us. A darkness that infiltrated every pore of your being, that led you to wanting to feel pain because it was the only way you could feel. The only time you could physically feel. Emotionally feel. If love or pain was enough to have saved you, you never would have died. I will carry you with me, always.  You were the last I truly loved enough to hurt. But your going left a pain that remains with me still.  My heart carried a love for you then, it will carry it for you always. 

I wrote this once...

 "Of all sad words of tongue or pen, the saddest are these, It might have been."John Greenleaf Whittier.

I think and reflect. Of what might have been.Of what could have been.  But of what will never be. 

And I guess, those thoughts are ones of melancholic sadness.  It is always hard to think of the loss of the potential. 

Especially when we know exactly what that potential was or could have been.

It could have been. It might have been. It never will be.

And I write it again now, for the very same reason, almost 10 years on.

Different time. 

Different person

But the very same loss, similar feelings. The same realisation.

Life moves in strange ways. Not always good ones. All I can take from this is knowing that I’ve listened to the part of me that has said “this is not ok”

I will take that. There’s nothing else to take right now.

Time will tell

There's a song, that for some reason I have heard lots recently. 

It reminds me of you. 

It plays over in my mind, or should I say, that one particular verse plays over in my mind, just as the visions and thoughts about you do too.

Thoughts of you creep into my thoughts, often at the most inopportune moments.  

At times that my focus should really be elsewhere.

But then, those thoughts of you bring a smile.

I wonder if the thoughts will ever play out in the reality.  I wonder if they will ever see the light of day outside the depths of my mind.

I guess time will tell.

And while the song and some of the words are beautiful, I hope that the story that sits behind the lyrics is not of how the reality will be. 

I guess time will tell.

I spoke of you yesterday....

I spoke of you yesterday.

For the first time in so many years. 

The sense of loss of the friendship we once had came over me in waves as I later recalled and reflected just how life changed from that day I had to had to leave and walk away. 

That day I had to let go <here>

I can still recall that final touch, the way your skin felt under my fingers as I touched your cheek.

I can still feel that sense of pain as my heart felt like a mirror shattering as it hit the floor in a load of tiny pieces.  

I can still feel the sting of the tear that went down my cheek at that farewell, the one that mirrored your own.

I can still recall the saddest sentence "what might have been", except, I know even now that it would never have been, it could never have been.

I found myself wondering about where life has taken you since then.  

I've seen you twice, once from a distance. And once a moment shared that should never have been.  It's still years since I have seen you. 

I've often thought about where you are, of where you've been.

The passing of time, the passing of the years still do not take away from the loss of the friend I once had, the friendship that we shared.

We shared a lot. 

I carry no regrets only special moments that I will never forget. Except, I do regret the friendship that we lost.

I hope life has been kind.  I hope that you have been happy.

My friend, I wish that for you always.