Zoe’s Theme

I Am My Lover featuring Zoe West

Origami, Ori for short, heard I was going to be in Portland through a mutual friend who told her that Book of Blue would be in town. This was in 2012 or so; I was there on an important family errand for one of my investigative reporting mentors.

Her friend said only that I photographed mirror masturbation and had done so around the world, and it was a “say no more” kind of situation. Ori called me and a few hours later was in my hotel room. She had not heard of me or my project before.

At first blush, she was a shy and ordinary seeming girl, though long experiences had taught me to allow women to emerge and transform in the truth elixir of the mirror. After taking off her long wool overcoat, she asked me what she should do, and I suggested she stand in front of a large, full-length mirror and watch herself undressress.

As she did this, she emerged into her beauty and her freedom. Her face came to life. Her eyes began to burn with eager curiosity. For the next hour, she did not take her eyes off of herself, including the deepest and most persistent self-eye-contact I’ve ever seen.

Maybe this was something she often did. I don’t know. My presence and the presence of the camera seemed to unleash something in her. My sense is that when you feel and see that much beauty, you want to share it with someone, and I was the fortunate beneficiary.

Female masturbation is one of the most beautiful phenomena in all of nature. That’s my opinion. And Ori through her generosity with herself was treating me to what I love to experience and witness the very most — and being doused in the mists of her fountain of youth. As she fucked her eyes into the mirror, her scent filled the space around us, encompassing us both in her self-intimacy.

It is sometimes said that one’s true sexual self emerges in the solitary privacy of masturbation. Partnersex is another feeling, another kind of intimacy and another kind of orgasm. It may be amazing but is not as honest as the deeper self of solitary sex. But then there are those who want and need their masturbation to be known and understood by others. That was Ori.

She took the opportunity of being photographed to be especially honest. Once you’ve made the decision to go there, it’s easy to drop the guild, the shame and fetters of masturbation and swim in your own joy. I’ve had the privilege of being with many women masturbating and she was so extraordinarily real. She held back nothing and I think went to places she did not normally go, emboldened ended by my admiration, respect and sense of astonishment.

She related to the mirror closely and intimately and could not take her eyes off of her own eyes. She plunged her fingers deep into her cunt and then began licking her own pussy juice off of them…over and over…not only in front of another human being but with the intention of sharing with the world. In the picture above, she studies her eyes as she watches herself suck her fingers.

You might think it impossible that I not be sexually aroused. Really, I was amazed, but so focused on documenting her beauty that I was not thinking of myself. My emotional body’s whole purpose was to hold a soft space for her; to not intrude on her experience as any more than a witness. She wanted to show me and she knew I wanted to see and know about her. She showed me her deep and vocalized orgasm over and over again, each time different. The room grew misty with the scent of her sweat and her cunt.

More than anything, I wanted to give her the experience of her own astounding beauty being witnessed and something essential about her being understood. As we did this, she seemed to spiral deeper into a totally private experience that she was sharing with herself in my presence. She did not acknowledge my existence for anything other than photographic arrangements, which were minimal.

I love this one the best, as it emphasizes her private experience. She can see her face and we cannot. Laying on her belly, she is watching herself orgasm. It was a once-ever privilege of watching a woman morph into pure sex in every dimension of existence. The mystery of the experience has led me to wonder whether she is not some kind of tantric diva who offers her blessings to all who are ready to receive. I offer these images to women so that you may know not only the depth of self-intimacy that you may attain but also the joy of allowing yourself to be witnessed. It will take some courage, but only at first. Once you cross the veil, you will find enormous freedom and the admiration of your witnesses who are your selflove lovers.

OK I adore this one as well, as the distance implies a solitary experience and only she can see her face. When she had finally expended and received her passion, she gradually dressed and collected herself. We embraced in a long, slow, melting hug. I buried my face in her hair and smelled her cheek drinking in her gorgeous womanhood for a moment more. She slipped out of the room.

Flooded in her beauty, I stripped and sat naked and spread out in her masturbation mirror and made love to myself in the aura of rapture she had left behind. When I look at these pictures years on, I want to make love to her in any and every way.

I want a long, deep sniff and drink from her cunt masturbating on my face. I want to suck her plump, motherly breasts. I want to plunge my tongue up her sweaty asshole as she plays with her clit and fingers her thick, gorgeous pussy, nibble her delicate flesh, and feel her ass pulse around my tongue as she comes.

I want to orgasm into her existence studying her eyes and she witnesses my blissful ego death and surrender into her being.

What she offered me was something greater and more mysterious, which is permission to be known for your selflove and masturbation. And for me permission to go deeper into my mirror celibacy. I spread my legs in front of her mirror and the sweet mists of her cunty scent, admitted my thirst, and looked at my soaked tongue before watching my face and my eyes as I swallowed my semen. I want her to know that and I suspect that she did.

first, I love this audio. It’s a deep self truth self acceptance moment…what’s going on here is expressing the deep pleasure of cunnilingus and admitting that I’ll miss cunnilingus the most of all if I’m masturbation celibate. the ubquitous lover speaks: no more pussy for you. the background monologue is a woman saying, “it feels nice coming out” followed by the sound of my fully expressed orgasm and ejaculation; the music beings and I hear my voice express the deep relief of a mouthful of my semen. I relax totally and breathe into my full mouth.

The music is the famous song “Swallow Your Own Cum.” This fades into the woman’s voice repeating, “It feels nice coming out, and it will feel even better in your mouth,” followed by, “Swallow like a good boy,” overlaid with Book of Blue model Zoe West saying, “I know what you do, I know what you give yourself” from “You Are Your Lover.”

The last voice instructs, “Squeeze more out and dangle your cumtongue at us.” The sequence reveals the unspeakable delight of exchanging cunnilingus for the open display of surrendering cunnilingus, embracing self thirst and swallowing my semen in front of the women whom I want to eat, with their full affirmation and acknowledgement.

Kingston, 2017

before i started exploring m.celibacy, one of the themes of my erotic life was rejection and unavailable women. since i’ve begun this practice i’ve evolved into receiving ongoing loving attention and companionship. there is so much poignancy in these encounters…as we find our way out of the sexual paradox.

i’ve experienced the erotic beauty of…my sisters and i feel my own beauty in their presence and offer myself to them, however they wish. i’ve submitted to some delightful, cavernous and loving souls gifting me with their pleasure, and their selfpleasure, and spaceholding my selflove.

one lover recently, a dark, fiery north african woman, cosma, every kind of beautiful. at some stage of our relationship she offered to me an experience of her sharing about four days of her gorgeous lovemaking with another man…i was aware of her and she was aware of my mirror journey…

i asked for her to tell her lover that i was mirroring and self-drinking to them…i doubt she did, he would probably not want to know she was even talking to me…she told me how she fucked, in detail, and how she felt. she answered my questions….checking in every few hours.

…then when she visited a few days later, i graciouslty welcomed her and licked out the yoni where he had eaten and fucked her, i kissed the mouth had kissed his, the mouth that had drank his semen as we affirmed that truth…in other words, she would tell me she drank him and right then we would kiss in blissful celebration of all pleasure.

i wanted her to have my affirmation, no guilt, no shame, tantra without tears.

i thanked her explicitly for this gift…then in the next moment, she rode me to my bliss with her curvy little universe, her unbearably gorgeous vulva sucking me to orgasm for the last time. so relaxing to let go and spill into her. in that session, she asked me to impregnate her. that was not going to happen — not then…i secretly wanted to, but i knew this was not the right relationship.

the next day she said she was moving on and i imagine it was to the man she had fucked with so well…maybe he would give her a baby…many of my lovers, the ones in this book, have gone from me to the man who fathered their children.

…months earlier she had seduced me first with photos of her delicious brown vulva, and then with an extended video of her masturbating. her camera was positioned such that I could see the expression of her face when her cunt blossoms…and when she would let go as her breath touched sound…so open and full and alive and she knew I would want to drink from her. it was not long before she put herself into my bed.

i’ve smelled and licked cosma many times, her vulva so delightful to suck as i clasp her warm, womanly, curious hands. i’ve let go into her core as we studied one another’s naked faces…

i’ve made love to her asshole orally — in what i’m sure was the sex unique to us — the more so for being my deepest pleasure with her. somehow we discovered it…as i encourage my lovers to masturbate honestly in my presence, and to do so for me if they wish…

she would lay on her belly with her hips angled up a little, and masturbate in the style of a little girl. she liked to do herself face down…ohhh…

i encouraged her self given pleasure and as she did, i would spread and lick her ass cheeks..and nibble her…and gradually swirl in long circles toward her core, teasing her as she made love to herself…in service of her pleasure…and as she deepened her masturbation, i gradually spiraled in, teasing her rim, and finally

..plunging her into orgasm with my tongue filling her asshole as she throbbed around my penetration

…and grunted in delight as i held her hips. we were good friends this way…

now, as i wean off of the yoni, i selflove to her lovemaking with other men. rather mirror, thirst for myself and drink myself to the understanding of her — of this she is aware. knowing we will never fuck again — she promises me this.

and i trust her…she is temptation I could not resist. knowing about her loving is what i want and need and crave, and such a gorgeous gift. i love that we have this understanding. i’m sure it made it so easy for her to choose a man she imminently wanted…with my total affirmation and delight.

i might not feel so generous had i not so fully explored and revealed myself to her. i look at her and take satisfaction that i’ve smelled and tasted her, and filled her many ways, and sought to understand the emotional nuance of her delights…sent her into a depth of herself wholly distinctive to our love…

…never asking her to reveal her innermost thoughts at that moment as her entire existence throbbed around my tonuge.

a woman needs her private room.

Continued from Circle of Self.

New Paltz, late summer 2010

“They had fun and want to play some more,” Simone said, referring to Ben and Kai. Simone was the last to leave after our Sunday ritual. “Kai said they’re going to try that alone with one another.” I knew what she meant. “Also he came up with a name for it…Dutch treat. They’re also planning to try it with other boys.”

She sat down at my desk and rolled a joint, passed it to me and struck a match. I loved that she used matches. I was still naked from the afternoon’s activities, feeling no special need to put on clothing. I took one drag and passed it back. She hit it again and put it out, knowing I wouldn’t want more.

She collected her stuff and kissed me on the cheek. “Have fun,” she said, leaving me in my mirrored space feeling so many different things; swimming in astral visions of what had happened there. It was getting dusky as she slipped out of the studio, down the stairs, through the gallery and out to the street.

A few days later, my phone rang…it was Simone…seeing if I was available Sunday for a gathering at Kai’s studio. In fact I was. “OK, bring your mirror, or two, 11 am.”

Sunday arrived. The sky was low and a little gloomy.

He was down in New Paltz, behind town on Water St. Educationally Kai was a recent product of the one functioning department of the campus there. He lived with Ben in a kind of loft that his father was covering for two years after graduation while he got his artistic career moving. His work was stunning — large, almost overpowering, with bold colors and totally abstract. Ben served as a kind of studio assistant, friend/boyfriend, and social liaison.

Simone reminded me of a cat who roamed from art studio to art studio. Two pervy bisexual boys! What a summary.

“We have a little plan,” she said, sitting at a little kitchen table. Ben nodded; Kai was tidying up after a painting session. “I think after our experience Sunday they understand you…they are men.”

I noticed that there were squares of chocolate on a small handmade dish.

“There’s an element of surprise, if you’re willing to come for the trip.”

I found myself reaching for the confections. “One, two or three,” Ben said. “Mushroom chocolates. I made them myself.”

I chose two. Simone chose two. Kai came over and ate two. Ben said he was going to the the designated not-tripping person, adding, “Don’t worry, I’ll have fun.” We munched them down and continued the conversation.

I looked around the room. Past the painting area was an open space, a big futon on the floor, and a sheet mirror against the wall.

“Hey, I’d like to see one of your mirrors,” Ben said casually, meaning cum mirrors.

“Okay.”

I reached into my leather bag and placed one of them on the table. The three of us sat and looked at it for a while. Light from a window splashed across the table, giving it a three-dimensional feeling…as if the shapes were popping up like a hologram.

Then it dawned on me what we were looking at. In the slow, luminous silence, I began to have visceral memories of this mirror, including from a selfloving session right after I woke up. There was no hiding what this thing was….the truth of its existence, and by metaphor, my existence.

“Look, that’s one long spurt, partly licked back,” Simone said. “You must have let it dry before trying to eat it.”

“What’s this about giving up pussy?” Ben asked.

“He tells this to some of the girls,” Simone said. “I was talking with Velocity about how desperate this makes you,” she added, turning to me. A surge of chaos went through me knowing that such discussions happened without me present. I melted into a delighting helplessness.

“Mirror celibacy.” I barely mumbled the words.

“What’s that?” Ben asked.

“It came to me in a dream. You’re going to be mirror celibate. You are surrendering yoni.” The implication was…for good. I did not believe it; or I could not. I would never ask for that. A little jolt of terror went through me as I said the words.

I had what I can only describe as a flash frame experience of being in different inner spaces in the future spaced over years, shown to me quickly. The mere notion of no pussy was mind-spinning, but it did not stop there. In the first flash I was masturbating with two women, who would encourage me to take myself back into my body. In the next I was facing the mirror alone, and knew I would only orgasm alone, and take all of my semen back into my body without encouragement.

Then I would only lick old semen, with no new ejaculations…I would take my sexuality to a still point. No fucking, no vulva, no cunnilingus, no orgasm; this would eventually translate into…erotic silence.

These scenes and the accompanying feelings moved through me in one extended moment…it had happened before and was happening again. This, as I gazed into a little plate of crusted and partly licked back ejaculations.

Ben and Simone spoke at the same time. “I help him,” Simone said. ‘What are you thinking?” Ben asked. I could feel their soft compassion for my situation…for my future journey.

Ben looked at Simone. “It’s easier if I hold his cum mirror.” she said. “He’s more honest with himself about what he needs.”

“Why does…the mirror exist?” Ben asked.

“I cum to the desire to drink myself and then after I orgasm, I don’t want it. I’m ashamed. I reject myself. I can leave my orgasm there and then come back when I want myself again.”

“You’re learning to accept you,” Simone said. “And I know you delight in your shame. I know that feeling. Usually women feel it and men cannot stand to. It’s the secret pleasure of women.”

The effect of the mushroom chocolate was a lucid state, a everything a little liquid, such unusual light and the feeling of moving under water. Every experience seemed divinely orchestrated…and meaningful…flowing…

“I think it’s time to go over to the bed.” The voice was Kai’s. I stood up slowly, walked over and laid down in a heap of pillows. The men removed my clothing as Simone undressed. She leaned and whispered into my ear. “Just let it happen. Feel good about who you are.” Her voice was that of the universe.

She spread her legs into the sheet of mirror. Then she was holding my cum mirror to my face to see, smell and lick.

“I’ve got this whenever you need it,” she said, gently, gently, underwater. “I’m right here. Show us how you lick yourself.”

I was kneeling up, facing naked into the sheet mirror, as naked Simone held my cum mirror. I was slowly moistening a thick cake of myself from some time in the past, probably the accumulation of many releases.

She held the mirror patiently as I licked free a little chunk of my dried cum, and when it gave way it melted into my mouth and surge of orgasmic energy ran through me.

“He works himself into a frenzy like this. We’ve done it lots of times,” she said.

“Then I help him get his fresh spill into his mouth. Actually other girls do too…Sherry and Ruby and Fae. We’ve actually talked about it. Velocity is too disgusted.”

This, as my cum melted into my body. She knew I loved that kind of hot talk. I looked up at my own face in the sheet mirror and could see myself fully observed, with Simone right there and Ben and Kye behind me as if floating in the near-distance. I understood when I looked in the mirror, my emotions were entirely transparent. What I could feel, everyone could feel about me, and right now that was thirst for myself, a spiraling need to have my semen in my mouth.

And a simultaneous need to be penetrated…to be filled…

My desire became so intense that I felt it activate something in the universe. Suddenly everything began to move and me with it. I was on my back. All I could see was white light. My knees were pushed apart. Strong, slippery hands pulled apart my ass and fingers gently probed. A confident hand pulled up my balls and erect cock, exposing my ass and perineum. I delicate line of pinpricks drew a line from my balls to my ass, where a vagina might open up. The hands felt like Simone. I spun in the bliss of submission.

Then my ass was fucked with something…fingers, a dildo, I don’t think a penis…stretching me open and filling me such that I had to relax more deeply.

My spattered mirror floated above my face…I could smell my scent, and I opened my eyes, to see my face amidst the licked-back layers of cum. I dove in with my lips and tongue again and my ancient ecstasy melted into my mouth. This was all drawing me into a thirst frenzy and I could feel that hot thread growing stronger within me.

My cum mirror was withdrawn and then there was a penis near my mouth. I was already deep in my thirst for myself, my body full and burgeoning with my own impending orgasm. I understood what was planned for me. My whole body thirsted for semen.

I allowed myself to feel my desperation of thirst…and the penis withdrew from me. I relaxed into my thirst, and it came closer…I could not tell Kai or Ben…I relaxed and opened my mouth. A hand on my chin positioned me…and kept my mouth open…

I heard Simone say so gently, “Oh, good.”

At which I experienced the first long, warm cord of semen enter my mouth, thick and fresh with ancient fulfillment. He tasted exactly like me…but different…

As I swallowed, another burst splashed on my lips and face, dripping down to my chin. I opened my mouth quickly to receive more and I did, swallowing. I felt Simone holding me and realized my eyes were again closed. I opened them to see Kai’s face in the middle of self-given orgasm. I latched onto the tip of his penis with my lips, and another long spurt of semen reached my mouth, tongue and throat. As I swallowed, I understood he had masturbated to orgasm into my mouth. He spurted again and again with the full vitality of a young man, and everyone saw me drink him in.

When he was finished and I was swirling in the understanding of what I had just done, Simone held a mirror to my face so I could see my expression and the sight of his splashed semen on my mouth, chin and cheeks.

“No wiping up!” she said.

With my face still cool from Kai’s drying cum, and my mouth and lips coated with his familiar but unfamiliar flavor, Simone set up me and Ben kneeling face to face, knees apart and just barely touching. We were naked and I felt very naked…and our stiff penises were reaching up toward one another like plants growing toward the light.

Kai was sitting a little further back, observing the scene.

My sense of helpless vulnerability reminded me that I was tripping, blessed in the soft afternoon light.

“I know you love to masturbate with semen,” Simone said, describing the truth. She also knew I love direct speaking of sexual intentions. “So you can. But first you have to ask.” My gaze moved from Simone’s face to Ben’s. I was about to ask him to masturbate into my hands so I could masturbate with his fresh semen.

The thought of saying the words seemed…like leaping into an abyss. I hesitated for what felt like forever. We all waited. I waited for myself.

“Ben…would you…please…

…spurt into my hands so I can…masturbate…

…with your cum?”

Another pause.

“I’ll do that,” he said. “Right now. Let’s do this.”

Simone scooted over to him and invited him to touch her dripping pussy and moisten his hand, then the other. A ritual space opened between us, as if something ancient was about to occur. I could see what a dreamy gorgeous masturbator he revealed himself to be.

“Hold out your hands.”

He was doing this for me. I did as he asked.

“It will feel good to say thank you.” The voice was Simone’s.

“Thank you for what you’re giving me Ben.” What he was giving me was the demonstration and expression of his wholly forgiven selflove.

I watched his pretty pretty face express his feelings as my hands received each spurt of his orgasm, given for the expressed purpose of my masturbation. In a fleeting moment of self comprehension I understood what was happening…as I watched his face cum in bliss of spilling his passion into my hands his face so so so so so so gorgeous

I smelled and tasted his fresh cum, taking a gulp that partly fulfilled me and partly reminded me why I was doing this at all…and masturbated using his hot abundant alive so so so so good as the world rippled in color.

I looked to Simone.

She appeared to speak in slow motion as I jacked off with Benjamin’s slippery, hot goo in infantile bliss, massaging my cock and balls…spinning…swimming…my vision distorted…

Feel good… — Simone

Mas tur ba tion — my own voice speaking out loud

Everyone in the room became remove and distant…their voices echoes on a the event horizon.

My cum mirror was against my face and everyone was drawn back out of proximity. I smelled like life to myself and licked my mud as my penis slipped and pumped ecstatically in Ben’s cum and my voice called out my infantile delight.

“He should look.” That was Kai.

“Open your eyes Eric.” That was Simone.

I looked and saw my bewildered expression, my face slick, my lips and mouth wet. My eyes craving and desperate.

Then a finger penetrated me from behind and my eyes burst open and my body began to throb around the strong support deep in my core. Fascinated, I watched my face receive the emotion of penetration, flaring and flowing through me as my face glowed in a shimmering auric rainbow morphing color and expression.

Then there was a hand against my mouth…not my own, my chin dropped and my mouth opened and warm thick wetness spilled into my mouth as I gulped my semen by the mouthful. So much…and again…and again…now licking…

I was suddenly back in the room, still swallowing, licking my lips and smelling the mixture of semen on my face, my neck, my hair.

Then I collapsed in a little ball onto the bed. Someone covered me. I entered a hazy dream trance that seemed to last forever. Into this black dreamspace the sound of Simone’s sweet little grunts of pleasure floated into my awareness, a sound I had never heard. She was being fucked, I knew it was by Kai, and their delight seemed to stretch out endlessly. As they interpenetrated one another, I imagined Benjamin facing into the big mirror making love to himself witnessing Simone and Kai lost and swimming within one another in the reflection.

“Wanna get high?”

Condescending little bitch.

“Sure."

She was allowing access to her ounce of crystal mountain cush, the ultimate sex weed…smuggled in from Amsterdam by her ex-girlfriend. I understood her coded language; how could I not? Crystal Mountain was the most erotic strain of weed, the equivalent of an ancient variety of MDMA called Eve. And she loved the stuff.

I filled a clean one-hitter. That was the only way she smoked. As I did, she set up her little scene, several thick towels at the edge of the bed, her double dildo appropriated from the Book of Blue guitar case of sex toys, a mirror, a little stainless cup of coconut oil and one of my cum mirrors. And an identical stainless cup, left empty.

I lit the little glass pipe, took a drag, and passed it to her. She never liked the first drag; she tasted a little, then a little more, and passed it back. I took a second drag and that was enough. By this time she had stripped down to her little white sweater.

Then in her perfunctory way, she lubed the two dildos, squatted over her arrangement and said, “Mirror.”

Never with a '“please” or anything; just what she wanted. This meant to hold a (clean) mirror to her face as she penetrated herself; that was one of her rules — to always watch her face take self-penetration. I held her mirror to her face and studied her expression as she dropped her little pelvis down onto double penetration and watched herself snarl, and moan a little, and snort a little and then growl out her relief as she settled deeply into both penises, feet flat on the bed.

Then came time for the conversation.

“You’re sill dressed”

I stripped for her.

“Show me your disgusting mirror.”

I held it up and gazed into it. She rocked gently on her self penetration.

“Tell me what you’re choosing to do"

“I am choosing” (she insisted that I begin each statement with these words) “to surrender pussy. I am choosing not to fuck. I am choosing not to lick. I’m becoming a mirror masturbator.”

“That’s right,” she said. “I fuck myself. Now only other girls will lick me. You had your opportunity. What are you holding?”

I was holding a mirror spattered with multiple, partly licked back ejaculations, covered with my tongue streaks.

“I’m holding pussy. I’m holding my cum mirror.”

She rocked deeply on her penetration, grunting under her breath, shamelessly indulging her desire. She liked to be watched and felt masturbating as much as I did. We were twins that way.

“Mirror,” she said, by which she meant get her clean mirror.

I held it to her face so she could see herself, for her onanistic lesbian self-satisfaction. She wanted me to show her her own beauty, though she often masturbated into the mirror alone. She would do it with the door open or set up scenes were I would walk in on her.

“What are you?” she said to herself, and to me.

“I’m a selfcum licking mirror masturbator.”

“No!”

“I choose to be a selfcum licking mirror masturbator.”

“Eat it.”

I licked deep into my cummy mirror, smelling and melting back ejaculations many of which she had seen me produce, naked, as she watched fully dressed…a few times inviting a friend to see my spectacle.

“Look at your face while you do it and say your ritual. Open your eyes.”

“I choose to only eat myself. I am my cunnilingus. I am a mirror celibate self cum drinker.” I looked back up at her.

She fucked her vulva and asshole, rocking and thrusting down, and then her face melted into an expression I’ve seen many times. I knew to hold up her mirror to her so she could witness the face of her gorgeous indignity.

“Don’t let your lips touch my pussy,” she ordered.

That was her oblique invitation…to get ready. I could smell her gorgeous little cunt and wanted to suck her supple lips and slip my tongue up her snatch next to her dildo.

She fucked deeply, panted and began to spurt and invited me to lean in and drink from her…

I stayed about an inch back as her girl cum sprayed over the top of her dildo and I gulped her acrid, hot, slightly pissy amrita, swallowing pulse after pulse as I melted inside, and then showing her my wet face and my bliss of surrender into receiving her.

I paused, panting, only partly satisfied…waiting to hear her next instruction.

Would she allow me to spill and satisfy myself in her presence? My penis and peivis were pressing outward, full and ready to burst out and I wanted my thick goo in her mouth and to humiliate myself showing her.

“Now go in the other room and masturbate privately.”

My heart sank and I also knew my orgasm would be delicious to experience and to taste and even a little extra delightful for beng alone.

I picked up my mirror and walked out quietly…I knew what this was about — not just denying me, but also her need to experience her solitary pleasure and, as I knew she did but had never seen, squirt into her little silver cup and drink herself.

She assured me I would never see her do this — that was for herself alone, and as witness, for women only. I so urgently wanted to see her face give into her need and her lips swallow her bitter water…

From Drinking Eja — my first experience of female ejaculation.

Some years earlier, someone who came for photographs, more of a friend than a model, could produce amrita. Her name was Anya. And though she made it clear that I would not get to taste her, she was willing to demonstrate her ability with me right next to her. I knew this would be a gift and an act of total trust: she knew that despite wanting her, I would honor her wishes in her most vulnerable moment, and this I loved about her.

She asked for several towels to put on my bed. Then she stripped and laid back against some pillows, and masturbated herself rather easily to her first orgasm. At which she gushed a little fluid into her fingers.

Then she demonstrated how she took that bit of liquid and massaged it against her g-spot, the area right behind her pubic bone.

This time her orgasm was deeper and her face more naked, and she spilled a little more. She glanced up at me, but only for a moment. I had spent the day photographing her, and could not believe how beautiful she was in this new incarnation of the goddess.

Her next little spurt came with some heavy breaths as she massaged again deep into her yoni, pulling her hips back against her inner hand.

The third time she came she cried out the beauty of her feelings, and spilled more, now flooding the towels a little. As this happened I was becoming desperately, utterly thirsty. I held her and whimpered in urgent need.

Then she took a little of her newer liquid and again massaged it deep into her cunt, as if spinning deeper each time, pressing her hands in and up against her inner clit, fapping her outer clit aggressively, until she thrashed and gushed more fully.

Then she did it again, always massaging her new amrita deep into her vagina, and soon she was in some alternate dimension of continuous orgasm, and with each crest she cried out sweetly and spilled some more.

And I was going nuts wanting to drink her in. Every instinct in my body said put your mouth there and be nourished. But I did not. When she was done, the towels looked like they had been thrown into a swimming pool. My bedding was soaked down to the mattress, and her water smelled sweet and fresh-cunty.

We settled under the covers, both of us naked. We wondered what would happen, knowing that only one thing could.

I cast off the blankets and knelt up next to her. She held my knees and looked at my face as I gazed into hers, then at her nipples and that sent me…I let go and cried out, relieving myself, spilling my passion into my own palm, grunting out my need and desire and thirst and without hesitating sucked my cum into my mouth and held myself, warm and slippery and found the courage to open my mouth and show her my full mouth and swallowed desperately, not wishing to hide the urgency of my emotions.

I collapsed next to her….we slept together, holding one another, in the enormous wet spot she had left…and I knew what I someday must have. The depth of my cunt thirst was ignited.

From Drinking Eja

“Your cum mirror is especially disgusting today,” Simone said with a sly smile, holding it as I photographed it in her hands. “You’ve been a nasty boy.”

We had, in our relationship, the ability to talk about this openly. And we had a tradition, following many sessions, of me stripping, spilling onto the mirror, and licking myself back as she held it in front of me. And when I was naked, horny and horny for her, she sometimes asked me to confess my desires. Often this was something about my desire for her.

She had offered me any kind of sex I wanted. She reminded me that my option to fuck her or lick her out was always open. Early in our friendship, many months earlier I asked her to help me hold the space of no pussy; to help train me in chastity. She looked me with her seductive warmth and said, “I understand.”

Simone was about everyone’s pleasure. Some of the models were repelled at the thought of men masturbating to them. Simone nourished herself on the idea. I knew she fucked a lot of men, and also her best friend, with whom she had been casual lovers since childhood. For me, she was happy to hold my cum mirrors, be photographed with them, and feel my longing for her which we agreed was my own creation by denying myself the privilege of fucking her Pisces beauty.

On this particular afternoon, I stripped and knelt before her. She reached for her purse, took out a joint and a book of matches, struck one with a burst of sulfury smoke, and lit it up. She didn’t like lighters. She took a drag and passed it to me, sitting naked before her, knowing what it would do to me.

“Look at this mess you’ve made,” she said with a casual tone that was soul crushing. “You’ll need to clean this up.” As the weed took hold, I was gazing into my spattered, partly licked-back mirror that was the only thing between me and her pretty pussy, which she had just been spreading for me. “I think you should confess.”

I told her about another Blue girl, Star, a mutual friend, and how I had masturbated today thinking of she and her boyfriend fucking.

“I get to see that,” she said. “I watched them fuck this morning.”

I was now openly masturbating and very high. “What else,” she asked.

“I want to smell and suck your twat.”

“Poor boy. I know all about it. You’ve asked me to deny you. I’m your friend and I’ll do what you asked.”

“May I lick your ass?”

“You know the answer that.”

But she leaned in and let me suck her thick, pierced nipple for a few moments. I was spinning in the most delicious agony. She held my mirror to my face to lick. And I did. Then she pulled it away, parted her knees her and spread her pussy, which was soaked.

“You could have my wet snatch to yourself, but instead you lick your dry, crusty cum mirror.” She held her fingers to my upper lip to sniff. I did, taking a little whiff of her cunty delight. Then she put my mirror back in front of me.

I was edging closer to my release. I wanted her to watch my face. She always did. She looked at me in the eyes and I said, “I want to do this with other men. I want to be with other men who thirst for themselves and drink.”

“Ohh, that’s pretty. Of course you do. I bet I can make that happen.”

I groaned. “Star and her boyfriend might be into that. And I know two pervy bisexual boys who will try almost anything.” She was staring deep into my eyes. Then she held my cum mirror right up to me, where I could see my streaked and spattered reflection.

“Watch yourself as you cum, your face. I’ll catch your semen.”

And that was it. I gazed at my face in the streaks and crusts and tongue marks, trying to keep my eyes open as orgasm rocked through me and my body began to pulse. I could feel her thumb aiming the tip of my penis catching a profound gush of my seed in her palm. I gasped with release with each pulse as she collected my cum.

Then she set the mirror down on the bed and hand fed myself to me as I licked her sweaty, cummy, pussy-scented hand, hungrily, helpless, loving her in my state of gorgeous submission. Then she picked up the dry mirror.

“Spit,” she said, and I dropped what was left of my load fro my mouth onto the spattered surface. Then she said, “Now lick.” As I licked up the mixture of saliva and cum and swallowed, she said, “You’re so dirty. Especially because you want this more than my pussy.”

The big day was the following Sunday. Simone arrived early, with coffee and a little flask that I knew contained rum and ice. “We should do this on the bed between the mirrors,” she decided — where she had masturbated to herself so many times as I photographed her.

The young guys she described as her pervy bisexual friends showed up and she introduced them as Kai and Benjamin. They had the look of skate rats and seemed friendly and polite. They seemed about 20 or 21. Last, Star and her boyfriend Morgan arrived.

We all squeezed into the area with two queen futons surrounded by mirrors. There was not going to be any therapy session or teased out situation. “Eric wants to drink his cum with other men and wants to watch them do it, too.”

Star spoke. “Morgan always wants to do that but he chickens out. When I blow him I try to kiss him into his mouth but he always seems disgusted. So I swallow him, um, I swallow you. This time we’re doing it,” she added with sidelong glance.

Simone said to Kai and Benjamin: “You guys jerk off together all the time but do you ever drink yourself?” They were a young and a bit shy for this kind of direct talk. They both shook no. “But I’ve seen you suck off one another,” Simone said. “That was good. Drinking yourself will be fun. I feed Eric his cum after every time he photographs me naked. He thinks he’s giving up pussy, starting with me.”

It was shocking how embarrassing this was, coming from the mouth of a pretty young woman who had, after our first photo session a year ago, offered me anything I wanted. As she said this, she wriggled out of her clothes. She glanced at the men. “Get naked,” she said. “Let’s do this now.”

My heart and neck were thumping. Star stared at me, pinning me to myself. She was the kind of model who was all sexual and no sex — though we had an interesting first session, a story for another time.

She elbowed her boyfriend gently and he slipped out of his jeans and tee shirt. I undressed as did Kai and Ben. The large futon was a cascade of clothing and naked bodies, reflected infinitely between two large sheets of mirror. Star was, as always, dressed to make you want to eat her pussy without an invitation, in tiny shorts, ripped up leggings and a wife beater worn thin from a hundred washings that revealed her plump nipples.

Simone faced into the mirror and stretched her little pussy open, and then plucked her clit like a guitar string, her face snarling and relaxing until she tossed herself into a fierce, immediate orgasm...for us as much as for her. Simone lived on the brink of orgasm at all times. She leaned toward her reflection and kissed her mouth in the mirror. She looked at Kai and Ben in the reflection. She chose them to masturbate first.

“Come over and face Eric. You’re doing this for him.” They squirmed over and knelt up near me. Morgan and the two women watched. Simone had a little bowl of coconut oil from our last session. She lubed their now stiff cocks for them with it. Then she retrieved my round cum mirror from the windowsill.

“Eric licks his orgasm from here, or from my hand.” Kai looked like he was going to orgasm on the spot. “Your have your choice of Eric’s cum platter, or Eric’s hand.”

I was not expecting this but…I was happy Simone was taking charge, seeming to live out some fantasy that suited me fine. The two younger men were masturbating in my direction. My cock was stiff and tense and wanting attention. I did not touch myself for fear I would trigger an uncontrollable release. Simone snuggled up next to me. Star and her boyfriend watched this little. Kai was close to his orgasm; his breath was heavy and his face melting. Simone reached under his balls and stroked him in that sensitive spot.

“Eric,” she said, and I knew what she meant. I cupped my hands under the tip of Kai’s penis as he started to grunt and spurt a little fountain of semen that I wanted to lean in and swallow. I glanced at his face and then saw myself in front of him offering myself as a receptacle, and filled my right hands with some random cords of sperm on my wrists.

“Do it now,” she said, and I raised my hands to Kai’s mouth as he reluctantly started to lick. That is when Simone pressed his face into my hand and he had no choice. I felt his tongue drag back his fresh, slippery ejaculate and his lips sucked and he took himself in and he swallowed in one gulp and then raised his head and showed everyone his wet face.

His face was precious, the mix of raging embarrassment and delight. His friend Ben studied him, wondering what fate awaited.

“I’m gonna do that for Ben,” Star declared.

This seemed designed to get her boyfriend worked up.

She stripped off her tank top and presented her breasts to Ben. Simone lubed his penis with a thick gob of coconut oil. Star knelt face to face with him, knees apart. He was suddenly out of his mind horny looking into her intense gaze and unbearably gorgeous breasts. Everything about him begged for relief. Star provided this, saving him the indignity of masturbating himself.

She was efficient and sexually skilled; with one hand she milked him into her other. There was not going to be much holding back. She watched the facial details of his orgasm as he heaved and she collected his cum in her hand — right in front of Morgan. She then drizzled some of his semen onto one of her breasts and invited him to suck. He did. She tried to show no pleasure from this act, but I could tell her heart was hot and there was a wet spot in the crotch of her shorts.

Then she said: “Open your mouth. Lean back” He did, and she spilled his cum down his throat as he swallowed helplessly.

She then turned her attention to her boyfriend, whose naked and beautiful penis was up and at attention. She leaned in and sucked him. Deeply, almost to his hilt. What a gorgeous little slut she was.

Then she sucked the tip of his penis while she cupped his balls with one hand and stroked his belly with the other. That did it. He groaned, and snorted just a little, and I could, we all could, see his penis twitch as his semen filled her mouth. She held that position for a long time, holding his living liquid in her mouth. She then raised her head as his penis was still drooling cum.

Then she kissed him aggressively, dumping his load into his own mouth and ensuring that he had no choice but to swallow.

Then to my shock she turned around and kissed me, offering me the last of his ejaculation, mixed with her spit, slipping her tongue into my mouth for a moment. I licked the inside of my mouth to make it last longer as I drank them, now, melting, urgently needing to release myself in their presence.

Star cleaned up the spilled remnants of orgasm from Morgan’s belly, dick and balls and fed him meticulously as we all watched. “There, you’ve done it,” she said to him. “Finally.”

“Eric’s turn!” Simone said gleefully.

“Eric fantasizes about you two fucking,” she announced.

“I’m not surprised,” Star said. Morgan had that look of not knowing what to think.

“He also wants to fuck you. You should tell her that yourself.”

I looked at Star. “I want to fuck you. I want to smell your pussy.”

She shook her head. Her expression was a little disgusted.

“Eric Francis, face the mirror. Show us how you mirror masturbate. Just like you always show me.”

I did as she said. She sat down next to me as I knelt up, legs akimbo. On the window sill was the cup of coconut oil and a little purple dildo. She lubed it, lubed my ass and pushed it in aggressively. Again I submitted to having no control. With her other hand she held up my little round mirror.

“What is this?”

“It’s my cum mirror.”

“It’s your mess. Lick your mess.” She handed it to me. “He likes to beg for pussy while he does this.” I was now on full display in front of three naked men and two sex goddesses. She sat down facing the mirror and spread her pierced twat wide. She dipped her fingers deep in herself and sucked them.

Ben and Kai were both erect masturbating again. Star was stroking Morgan’s cock. I mirror masturbated with this whole scene unfolding behind me.

“Eric’s his own cumslut.” The voice was one of the men. I was too self-involved to know whose.

“Lick your mirror. Lick up your dry cum. Show us.” The voice was Simone’s.

“That’s pretty disgusting.” The voice was Star’s.

“When you’re ready, orgasm into your eyes,” Simone said, taking the spattered little mirror from my hands and letting me sniff her fingers. “Everyone, watch Eric cum watching his face.” That did it; I slipped into oblivion. I did not recognize the person I was looking at, the melting desperation and delight and agony. A voice in my mind said “forgive.” Everything went to bliss-white light-pure breath.

My orgasm threw me around the universe. I lost consciousness out for a moment and Simone steadied me. She displayed my crusted mirror covered with cords of fresh white semen for everyone to see and know about.

Then she raised it to my face and pushed the back of my head so that my mouth and nose submerged in the layer of semen. “Suck it in. Eat your humble pie,” she said. “All the other men did it today and so will you. Open your mouth before you swallow.”

Simone understood the embarrassment factor. That special urgency as the way to becoming unfettered. She did not need to read it in a book.

I dropped open my jaw and tongue, not daring to look at myself for more than a fleeting moment…but enough to have the image impressed into my consciousness forever. I can still see my face, wet and messy, my lips slick and coated. Ben and Kai were gathered close to Simone to watch this spectacle of my self-submission.

I must have drifted off. The next thing I was aware of was the sound of a man moaning. I opened my eyes and looking in the mirror could see Kai sucking off Ben, slowly bringing him to release himself. He whimpered quietly, and then all at once he was panting out his climax.

They reversed places. I watched as Ben took Kai into his mouth and, with some tease and licking under his balls — held up by Simone — sucked him to orgasm and swallowed his semen. Beyond my own experiments, I had never witnessed other men having sex.

Simone leaned into my ear and whispered, “Let’s get together with them again some time.” I knew what she meant. Simone was one person with whom it was delicious to be totally honest about my sexuality with; she was all about the pleasure of every living creature, and a true sexual instigator.

I whispered back, Mmm hmmm…

The final act in the afternoon’s drama involved Star inviting Morgan to fuck her. She was fully in her manifestation of sex in a body. Now that her boyfriend was initiated, it was time for Star to fulfill her fantasy. We gathered around them as she spread her vulva lips and Morgan’s cock slipped into her, his ass floating above her. This seemingly private act was to be collective property. We were all involved.

She relaxed and dropped her legs apart; Simone assisted in this, pushing her knees open for that delightful feeling of stretched penetration. Women love to help women enjoy sex. She guided Morgan’s hips deeper in this ritual of love and pleasure.

And a ritual it was, set in the mirror chamber where so many had made love to themselves: the conjugal couple witnessed by three men and a woman…men who had all been initiated into receiving their own semen that day…the essence of contacting our receptive feminine.

We all knew what this would be about, but not how it would play out. There was no need for long elaborate fucking; the intent was for him to deposit his semen into her body. Simone, a master of the testicles, played with Morgans balls from behind as he thrust into her. He started to lose his control.

Star said to him: “Look at my face when you come.”

He lifted his cheek from her shoulder and their eye contact spilled the cup of his passion; he panted and heaved his life force helplessly into his lover.

Simone then guided his hips away from her. Star lay back and pulled her knees up, her gorgeous flower blossoming wet and plump.

Simone guided his face to her vulva and whispered something in his ear. He was reluctant to drink himself from her and needed some guidance. Finally his mouth made contact with her and he delicately licked her labia. He was showing no sign of getting into it. Star wanted to be licked out deeply and she wanted her lover to imbibe the mixture of them.

Simone guided him to lay back onto some pillows. Star swung her leg over him and mounted his face with her pussy, facing toward his feet. He could not resist this. She pressed her yoni onto his mouth with a full genital kiss and began to masturbate onto his face. Finally — I saw this — he reached into her with his tongue, surrendering to the experience, part from necessity and part from desire.

Then Star cut loose and crushed her vagina into him and masturbated aggressively. Simone had slipped herself under Morgan’s head, replacing the pillows, and said out loud that he would be happy if he relaxed fully and let himself drink from her.

He finally began to swallow honestly, like he was truly thirsty, and then his deeper need come forth. He began to suck her into his mouth. This set Star off. She arched her back and orgasmed and ejaculated gushes of her amrita, spilling over his face and into his mouth, and onto Simone’s lap, flooding the room with her scent as Morgan swallowed his lover deeply and without compromise.

IN MY FORMER neighborhood in Kingston, there were — in the Before Times — two places to get waxed. Both were nail salons owned and staffed entirely by Asian people. By waxed, I mean my ass, for smoothness and hygiene and because it feels good. I started at a place owned by a Korean couple, both appealing people though the female half, named Thalia, was beyond hot…bathing suit model type of woman with the very prettiest of faces.

Men don’t generally do this in a girly place. Usually it’s just women tidying up their snatch and surrounds. She agreed to wax me; this was during my manicure phase, where I would create designs or have my fingers and toes polished in 20 different shades. I was there quite a lot, so she was familiar with me. For the waxing bit I had to lay down on a kind of therapy table and spread my ass. She would apply hot paste, then paper, then strip it off. It was delightful and she knew it.

This was happening in a flimsy little room with walls off to the side that didn’t touch the ceiling, with the room outside populated by a diversity of neighbors, all of them women, getting their mani/pedis, along with her husband, and a diversity of slinky nail technicians peering out above blue surgical masks.

So while I could not yelp with pleasure very loud, Thalia could feel me breathe and knew what was happening. I would relax deeply and let the experience take me. Over time, we developed an intimacy through this, an understanding that was never spoken in words and I’m not sure what it was about.

I was aware what else happened in this room — that she had the duty and privilege of grooming to perfection the twats of many pretty young women. And then me…there existed all kinds of delightful tensions strung through the space between us….as she casually stripped the hair off of my ass.

It would have been a perfect ending of a session to express my pleasure gazing into her peaceful, elegant face; and maybe fill my mouth in her presence.

I knew this would not happen. But there are times when it’s the thought that counts. She was a double Pisces and I assumed she could read my aura. Wanting her exuded from my every chacra. There was no mockery, and that is what I loved about her. After leaving her little salon, my next stop was always a mirror in Blue Studio.

One day I went down to make an appointment and they were closed for a two-week vacation. So I walked around the corner to another nail salon, much less busy, its windows overrun with thriving jade trees. I stepped up to the little podium and he got up from his station, where he was working on an older woman client.

“Do you do waxing?”

He looked at me for a second, sizing me up. “Yes.”

“I’d like to make an appointment.”

We set it for that coming Friday morning. I did not know what to expect. I got there and he ushered me into a tiny back room, told me to undress and lay down, then went out front and locked up. He worked alone, so the ‘Back Soon’ sign faced the street during our sessions.

He came back and I had done as told; laying naked on a towel-covered portable massage table. He spread my ass cheeks with his fingers, and got busy. That first session we barely exchanged a word. He refused to wax my balls because he said my skin was too soft and sensitive. Besides that, he waxed my ass cheeks right down to the rim, and outward, and my inner thighs.

Then he said to dress and meet him outside. I put myself back together and went out to meet him; I made an appointment for two weeks later — at closing time on a Friday.

He was ushering out a client, a tidy little sniffer of a brunette. I went to the back and knew what to do; he found me laying naked on his table. He had me roll over on my back and open my legs, to access my inner thighs. With one strong hand, he pulled my cock and balls to one side and held my bits down with his wrist as he applied the hot wax to my skin. This gesture was not strictly necessary; he could have had me do it, or done it through a towel for the sake of etiquette.

But this was the etiquette. I understood his intent and his invitation.

I rolled over and the waxing proceeded, as I lay flat on my belly with his fingers pulling open my ass. He worked my cheeks down to my rim, only now I was free to grunt a little as he stripped off the paper. He wet a paper towel with baby oil and wiped my ass clean of wax residue, digging in a little deeper than he had to.

I sat up and could see his cock bulging through his shorts. I knew what I wanted to do. I say that knowing I could have done anything and had one idea in mind.

“Would you take that out?” I asked, a suitable request for my submissive role. He did, slipping his shorts and undies down. I squirted some baby oil into his hands.

“Please, show me.” He masturbated, timidly, gently, and then I looked into his eyes expectantly. That melted him and then emboldened him, and he pleasured himself more deeply. I told him how beautiful I thought he was, doing this in front of me, and then said: let me do it. His hands fell to his sides. I clasped his penis with one hand and his testicles with the other, and massaged him with my clasped fist.

We understood I would bring him off that way. I teased him, sitting naked on the table, edging him along a little until I announced I would soon be helping him orgasm — stating the obvious out loud is the essence and delight of hot talk. That’s all it took; I saw his face relax, and my hand on his balls slipped to the tip of his penis and with my other hand, I stroked his ejaculation into my hands.

I’m sure he had no idea what was going to happen. His breath touched sound, modestly, as he let himself throb his cum into my palm. I studied his face as this happened; he could barely look at me and then finally did, he gave in, as the last throbs of his orgasm pulsed through him. His release was abundant. I had a lot of his liquid to play with.

Then I squatted up on the table and masturbated myself with my fist full of his semen.

Alive, slippery and hormonal, and so so warm, this is what I love to masturbate with and so rarely have. Such transcendence must happen in the donor’s presence, adding a depth of pleasure. He was now learning against the wall, still at the trailing edge of his orgasm…with a stunned look on his face. I intended to expose myself fully to him, and just my intention felt so so so so good.

This was not going to be a long dramatic tease. With two hands I massaged his semen ino my cock, my balls and my newly shaved asshole. His expression turned to disbelief. I still had plenty of his cum in my palm. I clasped my penis with both hands, now masturbating in a way most exquisite than any other. I said out loud, to his face, “I’m going to drink my semen now.”

Thanks to this affirmation, I spun wildly into my momentless, suspended release, holding his gaze through every ripple and pulse and current and joy… From deep within my ripples of orgasmic ejaculation — catching my own seed in my hand where some of his was still pooled.

And then while still cumming and shaking, I raised my hand to my mouth and sucked in the mix of us, licked some more, and then opened my mouth to prove to him what I had really done…in utter boundless freedom.

Then I swallowed, looking at his eyes. And I licked my hand — both of my hands — again. Then, I turned toward the mirror on the wall next to us and studied who I had become. A squirmy kind of shame and disbelief washed over me and then away, and I found myself breathing deeply, almost panting, into his presence.

He slipped his shorts on and stepped out of the room, closing the door, leaving me naked with my reflection. I sat on the edge of the table with my knees pulled apart and watched as I licked my hand, tasting and further liquefying us both. I studied my face for a moment, and gave myself permission to relax deeply — with just the one word, said into my eyes,

— yes —

…and I again, now alone, intending to imbibe, I spent my passion and swallowed, this time, most privately.

When I was done, I slowly dressed, leaving my face smeared with my leftovers. I walked the front, said goodbye to Vincent and walked out into the neighborhood, dreaming down the sidewalk through the muggy air of people out for Friday evening.

This version has added layers

It is sunrise. It’s your last morning here and I wake up knowing what to do. My morning dream voice has said softly, masturbate vocally. I slip out of bed and strip. I undress and sit at the edge my bed, facing into the mirror on the back of my bedroom door; the door is partly open.

You are in my guest room, which is also my ritual room. Vocally means means embrace shamelessness, which means gradually guiding myself through embarrassment each time I touch sound. It’s always there, at least a little, and I indulge it consciously and remind myself what you may be feeling. I am summoning you so I allow myself to feel and smell each wisp of sublime emotion.

You’ve been staying in the ritual room for a few days and I suspect you’re figuring out who you are. In the corner facing the bed is the True Mirror. It’s both inviting and terrifying and you have, I suspect, glanced in it briefly. It vibrates with delicate self-honesty that I know evokes your vulnerability.

On top of the mirror is another mirror, a real curiosity. You’ve read many of my stories and you know what this is about, though now you can feel it in a different way. The essence of the mirror is deeply erotic disgust. In Japanese tantra, this is considered an essential emotion, described as Yorokobi ken’o, or delight-disgust. Another is Kaihō o motarasu ken’o-kan, liberating disgust.

It’s not the mirror but the fact that it’s left where anyone can see it, complete with its ejaculatory spurts and tongue streaks and collections of dried semen, in layers and crusts, dusty, repulsive, enticing in a way that you don’t understand. Semen belongs in your body. You have taken on quarts of the stuff over the decades.

This is an odd inversion, a cum platter that you know I’ve licked myself from hundreds of times.

You recognize it from photos of my Brussels studio, where it’s appeared in photos of Iris, the celibacy goddess. The feeling that suddenly soaks through you as you experience the sight of it, laying from your bed, is how it represents my nearly 20 year journey of surrendering yoni. How did I feel at the beginning, photographing Iris, slowly accepting and understanding what she represents? How does it feel today, as I have allowed myself to stretch and embrace myself within my own inner cosmos?

Half in a dream, gazing up into the corner of the room, you allow yourself to wonder how this must feel to me when you hear me grunt, and then moan. You know I’m mirror masturbating and you know you’re being summoned to finally have the experience of direct witness or Mokugeki-sha. This is your option, your choice, your necessity to honor. You know I understand that I offer my pleasure to the dissolution of your shame, your reticence, your struggle to accept yourself. I’m going to show you what it’s like, as so many women have done for me.

It takes all of your courage to get you out of bed and walking toward the origin of the sound and the feeling. Fortunately, you feel compelled, in away, attracted too powerfully to resist; and you know this might be your only opportunity. You glance up at the celbiacy mirror one lat time, moved by the courage that it must take to leave this for anyone to see and consider.

When I hear you outside my door, I say come in. You do; I ask you to close the door so that I’m facing into the full length mirror. On the wall is Iris, gazing over the scene, presiding over my self-celibacy for nearly two decades.

My penis is half-erect, half-limp, twitching a little. I have next to me a seashell that you know has become my cum mirror. The first thing I do in your presence is pick it up and smell my dried semen looking into my eyes. I cover my mouth and nose with the dried shell. You’ve seen this object on my night desk, where I sometimes leave it. It’s crusted with millimeters thick accumulation of semen. Another astonishing object to allow another human being to see.

Today I am doing my self-celibate ritual for you; to help you melt past your inner resistance to your self-acceptance. You know that in the past, you’ve used your desirability as a kind of ruse for your affirmation. As long as someone wants you, you’re potentially beautiful and maybe interesting. Now, you don’t know. That is the source of your anger. I am here to offer the mirrorlike wisdom that transmutes rage. Its color is blue, its nature is water…

It helps to have motivation to get past your resistance. What I know to embody for you is my unquenchable self thirst — Jiko no katsubō. Emerging from my dream, I felt in my flesh that this would be the primary feeling to embody: to sow how I accept myself in a state of Jiko no katsubō.

I know to be explicit. I milk my semisoft penis from base to tip several times, collecting thin, clear liquid on my fingers. I study the clear drop, I smell myself for an unbearably long time, and then…I taste. With that gesture, I know I want to reveal to you the emotional truth of my desperation and my thirst for yoni water. I’m going to allow you to see and feel how I accept myself in a state of deep need and craving for what I know I cannot have.

I squeeze out another drop of my clear liquid. I must take this slowly, so you have time to experience your feelings. I also know that you will be carrying this scene with you in your imagination, and so I know to make myself explicit. On the floor is a black dildo and a little silver cup. I get them. I want to fuck myself but more, I want you to see me want to do so, and to accept myself as I do. Selfthirst is self love,

I lube the dildo and soak my ass in oil and then holding the dildo on the edge of the bed, I sit down on it. I want to show you my face as I am stretched from inside, and I do, and release a deep groan looking into my eyes. With this, I burst sublimely into a state of androgyny.

Seitekina koto e no shinji gata-sa

I sit down firmly into myself, and wiggle on my self penetration, my inner cosmos opening. I am going to milk myself more…to stretch this part out…milk out a drop, sniff the drop slowly, taste a drop of myself. I see you glance up at Iris and I feel you now understand why she is here; what she facilitates.

I pick up my cumshell again and now I scrape its interior with my teeth. This is almost more than you can stand, but I do it. I’m giving myself a little chunk of my ancient dry cum to suck on. Seieki no katamari. I drop into total bliss being witnessed doing this. You start to feel your part in enhancing my pleasure, which becomes your pleasure. I am here to melt into myself for you, and you may facilitate that. Sōgo yūkai — mutual melting. Only I really know what I’m feeling, though I can convey that sensation through my aura, my face, my breath and my voice.

Finally I speak to myself, uttering the truest words I can reach: I’m a mirror masturbator.

I milk my semi-flaccid penis yet again. Then I feel and enter my embarrassment: after years without yoni, smelling or licking or soaking, this is hard as my penis gets. I say out loud,

I’m a mirror masturbator,

Here is what I’m feeling without saying:

My penis no longer gets fully erect when I think of or desire women. As much as I delight in the feminine and I so so so do. My penis gets fully erect to the sound of male orgasm, to the thought and desire of drinking their semen, or allowing them to witness my release. My body understands what is happening better than I do. This is death. This is rebirth. I understand that I must sacrifice the deep fulfillment of drinking my own semen and allow other men to fulfill their thirst upon me. I accept that they control when my thirst is fulfilled.

My cock is now hard and horny.

I point to a mirror, another one spattered and smeared — even the handle — and ask you to hold it to my face. You pick it up and kneel down in front of me and show my my cum streaks and my facial expression.

We’re going to enter this now; you are coming with me as the Thresholder, as the facilitator of my self-acceptance and my arrival somewhere I did not expect to go. I say it out loud to myself, into the mirror that you’re holding for me.

I am thirsting for the semen of other men.

“Do it.”

My cock is stiff and aching. This is my true admission. I pick up my shell and smell my mix of fresh and ancient cum, delighting in the space beyond shameless. In desperation for the semen of other men, I scape more dry cum out of my shell and suck it slowly into my body as it melts, swallowing consciously. I don’t know exactly what you’re feeling but I know it’s a lot and you’re not resisting.

Right now I’m a mirror celibate self semen drinker.

“Yes you are.”

Then it’s all happening, I have nothing in myself to cling to. My body melts into one purpose, which is to pulse in the rhythm of the universe. I throb out my deep private orgasm into the nearest object, which is my left hand, glancing at my face in the mirror you’re holding faithfully…daring just a look as I grunt and moanout, I glimpse into my own eyes and then I can’t stand it…with each throb of my body my voice calls out…as a large gob of my semen pools.

Then I am suddenly disgusted, which slows me down. I muster the courage to smell myself. I am feeling no thirst whatsoever…I am repulsed…my sent is fresh and grassy like a forest. I find my thirst in my disgust. I find my self love in my self disgust. I kiss my palm and suck and fill my mouth to my amazement in front of you. I open my eyes and face the mirror and drop my tongue and see that it’s soaked in white milky cum. I hold my semen in my mouth before swallowing looking at my face.

I look at you. Your expression is so soft and accepting. We hold this space in the morning light and then the ritual dissipates. You put down my mirror and step into your room. I know you’re going to masturbate, maybe even into the mirror.

I go downstairs and make breakfast for us naked, not wanting you to ever see me dressed again.