I Pay Women to Beat Me

There, that was not hard to say, now was it? I am a little ashamed as I write it.  But it is true.

I pay them to punch me, to slap my face, and to spit on me.  And whip me.   You know what kind of person I am.  A customer, I guess.  But a person even so.  And so are the women who are kind enough to accept my money and who are willing to beat me. If they don’t want to do some particular thing, that is fine of course.  Some people do not like spitting. Some don’t like punching.

And everyone does it differently. I have been beaten so many times and in so many different ways.  I have been spat on so many times.  Sometimes it is revolting, even to me.  Sometimes it is just beautiful.  I could watch a beautiful woman sniffing up, drawing the spit together, lining me, aiming, tilting her head back, and then leaning forward to land a loogie right there, right on my face.

And I can watch her ball up her fists, her punches coming in thick and fast onto my naked breast.  And I see her smile, and I laugh, just for the sheer joy of it.  And she laughs too, because the whole thing, as mad as it may seem, is just for that moment, a beautiful thing.

And that is a kind of heaven, even if like all such joys, it cannot last….


Lost, Lost in… the girl

No, there are not many words in this song, perhaps, not that kind of song.  With words I mean.  It is about being lost in someone other than oneself.  Being, well, lost in the girl….

I love the clip.  It makes me lose myself….I blur and fade away.  I don’t usually like this kind of music.  But there you go; I love the gorgeous girl from Denmark.  I am ….Lost in the Girl

And if I got lost in the girl..well, I hope you do too (see, I am not a jealous guy, not at all, more the well, not now)…..

And I love you, whoever you are! x

Wild Wind, Wild Wind

“Wild wind, wild wind, blow me away.  I want to feel the shreds of my life torn away.”

And the wind blows, and passing windows rattle, and so I laugh, I try turning up my coat, and I curse.  Papers fly, packets flap and twist, trapped in eddies, then flying free.

I turn and turn, but cannot turn away.  I see a crazed cat hopping into trees, running in ever decreasing circles.  But still the wind shrieks, how it blows, and sounds low and low.

As for me, I trudge on, eyes stung, skin stinging, sleeves flailing in the air.

And so the wind blows, and sends my peace far, far away.  And I wonder where my joy is, this strange wind-filled day.

Waxed and Ready


“I am ready,” and I press my face into the sheets.  “Sit up for me, let me run my hands over your arms, your breasts.”

I obey, silently lifting myself from the pillow.  “Take me,” I whisper.

She cups my breasts, still raw after being waxed, “So smooth,” she says.  “Thank you,” she adds.

Gently, now, ever so gently, she pushes me back down onto the bed.  She knew my body better than I knew it myself.  I feel a finger inside me, probing, ever so slowly, and as I relax she tugs up on the inside of me.  “Am I big enough for you?” she asks.  But that does not matter to me at all.

She is behind me now, as I press my face into the pillow once more, this soft, blissful pillow.  She masturbates her cock.  As if it were not hard enough, or large enough.  Yes, she is slowly masturbating her cock.  See, I know this, even though I cannot see her doing it.  And then, as I wait, as I relax even more, she enters me.

I sigh so quietly that even she cannot hear it.  “Hold me,” I say.

Slightly put off her rhythm, by my talking, she says, “What?”

“Hold me.  Love me!”

My entire body hungers for her.  Love me, hold me, protect me.  Let this embrace last forever!

Urgently now, I whisper just that little bit more loudly, “Own me, take me, and take me completely!”

For I am yours!



Scented unsteadiness tears the air

While the thunder waits

And waits for us to notice.  It waits

As we bait each other with talk

Talk, talk, talk!  Mere words instead

Of feelings.  We use our head to clear

The air.  But we hear still that other sound

That dull hum beneath the street

We walk, silent, dark, arms swinging

Quiet, alongside. Each alone.


Lost, we walk the drift of strangers

Are those your hands which hold papers,

Lighters, promises, lies?  Or mine?

The hands pass one to another,

Mine, yours, someone, anyone:

Father to friend, and each to each,

They could never know.  Where are they going,

Where would they?  They are done

Each and every one.


Human Punching Bag

I love being punched.  Bullied at school, they used to punch me sometimes. I was afraid in those days.  But later, as I grew stronger, I was able to be punched in more places, not just my arms, my legs.  No, eventually, I was able to be punched in my chest, my stomach.  Until I was black with bruises.  How I loved my bruises!  I am the human punching bag. And you can beat me as much as you like!

I felt her enter me, warm and hot….

I felt her enter me, warm and hot.  “Is that ok for you,” she asked as she tentatively began her journey to my deep and warmest interior.

“Yes, O, yes!” I whispered.  Gently, then, ever so gently, she pushed further and further into me.  Not pulling back, just gently widening me, opening me to her.

I pressed my face into the pillow.  I relaxed.  And slowly, ever so slowly, she pushed in further and further.  I imagined her cock just then.  I had kissed her toes, her feet, wet and warm, I had brushed my lips against her skin, her legs, then her inner thighs.  I watched her cock growing, almost by a law of its own.  Soft and beautiful penis.  I took her shaven balls in my mouth.  She had washed herself, so there was a faint scent of soap.  I had run my tongue up along the shaft of her enormous penis, so swollen now with desire, power, heat.  And this was what was now driving slowly down into the deepest depths of me.

“Is it still ok for you”she asked again, less tentatively this time.

“Just beautiful,” I murmured.  And as if reassured then, she drove suddenly into me, and I felt her fill the entire inside of me.  Would I burst apart, I wondered as she drove deep and deep.  I felt the heat, the pain, ever so slight.  And I relaxed again.

And she drove on and on.

I was almost delirious, dreaming.  “I want to look into your face,” she said.  “I want to look into your eyes as I fuck you.”

I turned over.  I felt her enter me again.  My legs were in the air, and she held them like the handle bars of some large machine that needed steering.  She pushed them back so that my knees rested gently on the sides of my stomach.  She looked down at me then, and at that moment, I looked up at her.  I felt as though she suddenly owned me, and that I now could submit my very soul to her.  My eyes moistened slightly, and she smiled then.  A gift to me.  I gave myself to her in my turn.  My gift to her.

“Do you want me to cum?” she asked, smiling even more broadly..

Yes, I said.  O, my goodness, yes I do.