Posts Tagged ‘Musings’

Sexism Much?

Written by Orchid on December 10th, 2014. Posted in Blog

The following rant is in response to this article:

http://www.breitbart.com/Breitbart-London/2014/12/04/The-Sexodus-Part-1-The-Men-Giving-Up-On-Women-And-Checking-Out-Of-Society/

Dear men and boys: feeling like retreating from the dating world because you just can’t win no matter what you do? How about instead of being a coward, when you see a man behaving badly whether he is a friend or stranger, call him out on it.

The more you ask your gender to behave like human beings instead of misogynist assholes, the better your reputation will become.

Not sure whether or not you should kiss her? How about you ask her. It’s incredibly romantic, thoughtful, sensitive and so on. Trust me if, she wants to kiss you and you ask her for her permission she will be all the more delighted to lay one on you. If however, she is not interested in kissing you, don’t get upset. She has every right to say no. Not every person in the world is going to want to smooch you. Furthermore, asking for permission to breach physical boundaries helps to build trust because it will show her that you’re aware of her physical and emotional boundaries and that you respect those boundaries above your own selfish desires and sexual impulses. The more trust you build the stronger the foundation of your interactions and potential long-term relationship will be.

Dear girls and women: feel like men are just sexist assholes and you can’t seem to find a good one? How about instead of settling for or making excuses for someone who is not treating you right, you tell them what it is that you need and expect from your interactions. Furthermore, take the time to genuinely research what feminism and equality actually mean instead of regurgitating sensationalist, Neo feminist views. True feminism demands equality for all people, it does not support women being above men in terms of rights and expectations. If you want to be a crazy bitch, that’s your choice but that’s not feminism.

Hollow

Written by Orchid on June 4th, 2014. Posted in Blog

I’m in a suspended state of utter, euphoric bliss until suddenly I realize the birds have stopped singing.  The once safe feeling of the surrounding untamed arboretum now feels like a prison.  Nature is so fickle isn’t she?  It’s as if she knows when one is in love and thus plays ones heartstrings like a violin until one feels firmly secure in ones happiness.  She then waits for the perfect, crystallizing moment to strike one with lightning as she cackles and rides away on the wind.

Laying on the forest floor, now naked and alone where I was once safely clothed in the limbs and lips of my lover, tears fall rapidly from my burning eyes as if to imitate a rainstorm on a most miniature scale.  The earth has hardened beneath my bruised limbs.  On any other day, at any other moment, I would have predicted the coming storm and would have therefore sought shelter until it had passed.  And yet for some reason unknown entirely to me, I managed to miss all the fleeting indicators of discord ahead.

I am bewildered, the contents of my skull feel muddled and disoriented.  I am acutely aware of wrongdoing.  I am most certain I am at fault and yet, I am at a loss as to what it is I have done wrong.

It is most fortunate no appetite stirs within me, for in this unfamiliar territory I fear mistakenly ingesting nature’s poisons more than I fear starvation.

Drip

Written by Orchid on May 16th, 2014. Posted in Blog

He is on his knees in front of me and I position myself so that our thighs press together. His hands lightly resting on my ribs and hips underneath my tank top, he parts his lips and brushes them against mine. A beautiful aching feeling travels down my torso and in between my legs like honey dripping from the end of a hot spoon. We continue this dance of mouths, occasionally pressing our lips together.

At this moment, nothing else exists but him and I. It’s as if time has almost stopped completely and we are suspended somewhere within the æther. I climax so many times that I quickly lose count.

By the time he’s finished with me I lay helplessly on the bed. The sheets are absolutely drenched with come and sweat. My skin is sticky with it. As is his. Sweat runs in rivulets down his painfully beautiful body, which has undoubtably been carved to perfection by the gods themselves.

There’s no place I’d rather be than here.

A Love Letter

Written by Orchid on April 22nd, 2014. Posted in Blog

Each kiss you bestow upon my hungry mouth sends my body into a state of utter bliss. These gifts of tenderest affection carry me for hours upon hours and nothing need follow them, except perhaps your arms around my waist for these kisses are just as impactful upon my person as any time we spend tangled in each other’s limbs and bedsheets.

All of these feelings that stir up within me at the recollection of you make it difficult to give the space and distance I know you sometimes need. When I experience hunger I feed it, and yet when I feel a longing for you I must sometimes deny myself and starve for a time. Forgive me if I talk too much, kiss you too frequently, get lost in your eyes. I simply cannot help myself.

I suppose that’s what happens when you’re in love.

The Witching Hour

Written by Orchid on April 21st, 2014. Posted in Blog

It’s almost 4 am when he walks in on me stuffing my face with pita chips and cheddar cheese and he just laughs.  I blush.  Yep, I’m in my element. We inhale and exhale copious amounts of THC while he regales me with his knowledge of physics.  Air speeds, inertia, mechanics and “did you know?”.  I laugh and writhe around on the bed, jokingly begging him to stop dispensing so much beautiful knowledge lest I explode in a climax of cranial bliss.  Knowledge is arousing.  Especially when it falls from the lips of your lover.On into the early morning hours, we laugh so hard we cry.  And then we laugh some more.

Finally the light is turned out and we lay awake in each others arms.  No more words are exchanged, just the sounds of our breathing and the pulses in our veins.

Utter perfection.

Electricity

Written by Orchid on April 14th, 2014. Posted in Blog

Despite my unshakeable and fierce independence, I also need to be nurtured.  I need to be showered with affection.  I need to be held, fucked, caressed.  I need somebody with a bottomless wellspring of energy to love me day and night.  But I cannot be caged, suffocated or held back.  It’s a conundrum I know.

I want to fuck you, make love to you, caress you, without caring what time it is or how long we’ve been entangled in each other.  I want to feel the weight of your love and I want to shower you with mine. I want to slow dance with you in my kitchen, I want to forget the stove is on, to forget my hunger in your arms. I want to feel the tender fragility of passion and the vulnerability of your soft lips pressed against me. I want you to love me.

Just the thought of you sends shocks of electricity from my nipples to my loins. I can feel the endorphins explode outward from my center and out to all my extremities.

I Release Thee

Written by Orchid on April 14th, 2014. Posted in Blog

I’ve noticed a pattern forming recently in how the events of my life are unfolding.

Every time I worry about something, or “fear” the future outcome of a situation, I make an effort to let my fears and worries go.  I close my eyes (unless I’m driving of course), inhale and exhale deeply and focus on my third eye while I say in my head (and sometimes out loud) that I will not fret, for everything will work out and everything is going to be alright.  It’s a strange little ritual which always brings a smile to my lips, even if the smile only lasts a short while.

Not matter how dire the situation has seemed to be, within 24 hours everything is alright again.  The less I worry, the better things seem to become.  By forcing myself to see the positive elements in my life, all the negative things that once had a fair amount of control over me now seem pale and unimportant.

People say “intention” and positivity don’t work.  And to those people I say: “Don’t knock it until you try it and don’t dismiss my happiness because you’re terrified of your own.”

Cyclical

Written by Orchid on August 30th, 2013. Posted in Blog

We stood barefoot on his headstone, looking into each others eyes as the priest spoke. We were wed upon my father’s grave.  Some might consider such behavior to be excessively macabre.  Unfortunately for those individuals I have never cared much for the opinions of others.  Frost covered blades of grass clicked against one another in approval.  The fog had yet to lift, making it seem as though we were somewhere between the planes of existence.  The black lace of my dress rustled gently with the rise and fall of my breasts.  Our feet were absolutely numb against the hard finality of the marble but it was of little consequence considering the circumstances.

Almost as if the priest understood our intentions, he had not asked where our witness was.  He knew, as did we, my father would be present.  I felt him there beside me, a faint hint of warmth against my left arm.  The urge to turn and look over my shoulder was quite nearly impossible to fight against.  I could picture his smile, perhaps even a few tears making their way down the soft lines in his cheeks before burrowing into his beard.  But I knew if I tried to look he would not be visible.

Upon the closing of our private ceremony, my love and I embraced with a modest passion as the priest made his way back up the hill and out of sight.  When our lips parted once again I saw a large stag just beyond the tree line.  He craned his neck ever so slightly to one side and stared directly back into my eyes.  Salty tears escaped furiously and silently over the line of my lashes as I watched the stag slowly turn and disappear into the woods.

“Goodbye” I whispered.  “I love you.”

Give It Up

Written by Orchid on August 20th, 2013. Posted in Blog

The lonesome, hollow guitar riffs snake in and out of my eardrums.  I see nothing but a completely dark room illuminated by a single spotlight.  The brightness rests on two nude bodies.  Their gender is inconsequential.  All I see is their passion.  Glistening skin writhes, rises and falls in an undulating rhythm.  Tears roll down my flushed cheeks, but I am not sad.  I weep at the beauty of such a spectacle.  I am not the only person in the room in a literal sense but emotionally nobody else exists.  Even the hot breath of the stranger behind me goes unnoticed.

I see a head fall back as the sharp line of a jawbone becomes visible under the spotlight.  The jaw is agape, a silent cry of pleasure hangs in the air.  Obstinate nipples harden and reach for the sky.  My mouth waters.

Suddenly the mood snaps from intimate and private to desperate and indiscreet as the music lurches toward something more primal.  The writhing bodies become more aggressive, more furious.  For a moment I look away.  My heart aches for the tender moment that has passed like a whisper through the crowd and out the doors.  The rest of the audience has become noticeably excited but I can no longer stand the sight before my eyes.  I try to cover my angry eyes as I push past the onlookers and out into the unforgiving dampness of the night.

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