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How can I continue this story? I don't have the appetite to stay fixed on one idea or another long enough to write it.. and, nothing I say effectively holds enough weight for me to say it. (lol).
This morning my wife was looking for library books I had moved elsewhere. She began to ask in irked (reprimand) way, where they were, but has found them mid-sentence. I go to where she is picking up the books and give her a reprimand of my own (smile). I push Susan frontside over the furniture, completely spooning her- palms cupping tits and groin to ass. Overpowering Susan's resistance, I doggy pound her a dozen times firmly.
I know you are unable to comprehend the significance; what I did amounted to murder. She did not even bother with histrionics or threats, and moved on as if this were ordinary play. OMG! LAUGH!!
I have lightened up that of iron fortitude, thawed the frigid, sold ice to an eskimo, etc. Even a year ago, no matter how innocent the gesture, I would NOT have my balls intact.
If some here likes that I write, engage me with a question etc. (NOT you serloco){JK} .. cause otherwise I won't even know where to begin the next sentence
Play around, provoke, whatever. I have anecdotes up the ass. I won't even be rigid. {though, I am inclined to erasure later, as you are welcome to do also any time here (keeping the thread cogent is only one reason among others)}
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Susan has had a tooth ache that may need root canal. Can't seem to help on my own. serloco, you are most welcome to intervene to take care of that.
will erase shortly
Want you to know also the work you've done prior has been miraculous--un-fucking-believably miraculous manifestations
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serloco, I have seated optimism WITH evil, tragedy, and horror (and all else concerning the external universe) that did not exist before you showed me.
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PRIO POST & EXPANSION:
I know you know the detached (observer) view CHANGES EVERYTHING. You need to trust reason to take you away from habitual emotional indulgence. Stick with reason to exercise separation (particularly in tensed states and situations). Your reason needs to do the math > it is better not to waste energy resenting, indulging, and over-reflecting. REALLY, you need to choose the awareness that continually puts you outside of the show.. and likewise to SEE the inherent clarity for decisive actions. Whatever doing arises because the fluidity of perception has no outlying contradiction > it SEES what it SEES.
I mean, think what happens instead when you re-introduce your personal agency. Everything seen then involves endless threads of thought and import. Do you think that leads to clarity? It only fucks life up. You need to get this; you need to stamp the proclivity of reason to work for detachment as its primary function. You DO this until it is habitual.
Interact
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My experience is that one gains a sense of progress in detachment that is a double edged sword. Realization of 'progress' is rewarding and good, yet there comes times when this converges on you in forms of stress, fear, anxiety, and pressure of responsibility. Very critical to know this is going to happen, and that you should not deflect this to what you think is causing it. You must break the connection to any tangible concerns that are involved. That is, take on the fear etc. directly as if it is independent of all else. You have anxiety... so identify that and move on with that state as being yours > no running or moving away from it. Hold onto and stroke the sensations. Notice the moment this interactive 'play' ensues; WHAT HAPPENS KIDDO?? (big smile here)
Regardless if the concerns are real (even if you will address them shortly with thought or/and action) this is how you settle into an objective state. Early on in this practice, you may need to gain the sort of separation I talk of by diverting self (a walk, pulling weeds, a movie, reading, a glass of wine, a nice treat in quiet repose, a ritual).
Casataneda--When faced with odds that cannot be dealt with, warriors retreat for a moment. They let their minds meander. They occupy their time with something else. Anything would do. That is the fifth principle of the art of stalking. {same principle}
Still, such retreat must be undersood as a self-teaching device to show that your states of anxiety, stress, fear etc. are not real or have no permanence. Meaning eventually, you should gain command over suchness because you can (without props).
While it is not difficult to detach and redirect angst to activity or other occupation, sometimes the awareness of infinite doing itself is tiresome and depressing. I do not have endless patience for this **** called life. I mentioned I had a proclivity early on for daydreaming, and I am only too eager at times to want retreat from objective awareness. Really, this is where billy becomes billy (I assure you that by any societal/conventional decorum or purview, this is not a pretty picture). {smile}
When my evasion from existence pervades, obviously I cannot escape the 'negative' consequences. This has never stopped me before... There is something attractive about this self-destructive behavior requiring no effort or intent. At this 'stage' I experience it like all other states and can acquiesce. However, even when withdrawn, life eventually impinges and I feel pain >>> cause when ya surrender objective awareness completely ya gonna get hurt. I laugh now because this is part of my wholeness. Sure enough.. there is pain. Naturally, self-pity is part of that.
Still, this is where I learned the art of becoming transformative... I am unwillingly forced by reality to SEE the 'damage' of my existential withdrawal (usually in bits and pieces, because I still hold to the temporary comfort and reprieve of evasion) {much like addiction to chemicals here}, but then my detachment as a rooted habit becomes value in and of itself. You may look askance, but I found pleasure identifying with the hurts. I've done this so much so, that sometimes I salivate in remembering a particular feel > LOOK > I won't mince words here, I found pleasure in the posture of being a fucking loser. Now, just as quickly, let me clarify that I have no overriding proclivity to be a loser in life generally. I like winning. I may like indulging shame from time to time, but I like pride moreso. In short, I don't terribly fear any way the experiences known to man, perhaps excepting physical bodily torture. Still, acquiescence is a tool and not necessarily a goal.
"You can check out anytime you like but you can never leave" LAUGH
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What I am showing a glimpse of here (before erasure of this and previous) is a little different perception than the three mirrors (mentors) I've known. These three largely include participation in the world, where my bent is to gravitate to the starkly existential. That I am aware (that I exist) is central, and excludes the universe as a primary interest. The world blowing itself up does not interest me in philosophical terms. I don't abide by any concept that holds the human species as being significant in the vast universe. A bat of an eyelash cannot convey the nano second of time relating the animal's brevity in the unimaginable chasm.
Is my awareness set and unchangeable? I don't think that. I know how I empirically am now.
I am showing you a glimpse of how billy sees> I LOVE the starkly barren movement to a naked, sensational awareness of billy that is without any connection to a universal meaning.
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By now you should have figured the abnegation I utilize is decades old monastic exercise. However, I don't turn myself over lock, stock, and barrel to anyone as many practitioners were want to do.
Though I genuinely expose my self-weaknesses in a virtual self abasement, I go low to reload and emerge with power. I would NEVER show weakness outside unless it were a tactic of advantage.
I am preeety tough. I could tell many true stories to cast myself as such. I'll reiterate: you must make yourself invulnerable by loving everything you are, NO hiding, no exceptions. Go to where it hurts to see yourself and objectify that self-rejection.
Also, I want to advise I used the words 'self-destruction' loosely in the annihilation context I speak of. I don't ever intentionally bring (or allow) myself down without purposeful intent. I do NOT forfeit keen awareness without a precedent of identified trust to allow that. I do not stay down in manufactured states of lows or/and negative emotions intentionally indulged. I PLAY a LOT, but I am serious about my body and good practices. I cultivate artful living. I am solid. I am authentic. I don't waste energy protecting what is not real SELF.
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TASTING what is simple and pure
The rather painful aches of perception longing for purity is something I adore.
Words have always worked for me to TASTE sacred awareness of I (billy).
Whether unifying in a manner that is entirely prideful or one that is entirely humble makes no difference.
what is simple?
Answer is: perception 'I' without attribute. (I don't know perception without billy) {I don't see this 'without attribute' as contradictory, (billy is all that ever existed)}
Ask what is billy without other identities all you want, but I'll answer that billy is billy regardless.
To TASTE billy is purity.
Confused?
This is not about self-worship; this is about the existential equation; this is about billy becoming fully acceptable to billy, so as to dissolve into billy awareness for the ultimate payoff.
Words have meaning this way; they are personal recapitulation. I choose words and they choose me. A song is always a song about me TASTING.
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billy can be so, so, so, so, so.............................. (ultimate payoff is more profound than nirvana; I want that I could dream it up as I have done before)
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I wonder if you identify the different APs you experience..
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I really should write a book so development is in a fuller context, but I don't want to. I am inclined to share things here I deem inappropriate to do elsewhere. I have a combination of experiences unique to most others. My life was often on parallel tracks of opposite self-esteem stimulus. I was praised; I was mocked. I was chosen first; I was rejected completely. I was loved; I was hated. I amazed; I choked. I succeeded uniquely; I failed in common. I was around persons who tore me down, and I was around others who profoundly reinforced me and built me up.
But I want to talk of specific 'spiritual' (that fucking word I hate using) manifestations out of context. In high school I was coaxed by a priest to attend an overnight Catholic retreat with a few invitees.
This turned out to be one of these happenings where people speak in tongues and finally all the persons there 'melt' (wash over with incapacitating joy) enmasse upon the descent of the 'holy ghost.' In hindsight, I have disdain for this kind of experience because I want a billy in control, yet I can acknowledge this is as an extraordinary perceptual shift.
The mind's door was opened my senior year of college. I was feeling down, and a bible on someone's desktop beckoned. The words spoke to me with an underlying force I could never explain, especially given I disliked the bible.
I had something like an immediate transformation. When I woke the next morning I knew something was different.. I had this unwavering certitude. Zen and Zen-like literature was suddenly there before me and I moved the spirit (or it me) for many many months. There was love at first sight, a few LSD trips, and many inexplicable occurences involving the moving of those around me. When the love affair with Maureen ended a half year later, my mind gradually was lost, and I sunk.
I graduated college that year and got a substitute teaching job in a large high school where I met Susan. She was stunning to see.. so gorgeously endowed. {I mean, her 3 younger sisters were all to be beautiful high school homecoming queens, and she made them pale by comparison. (Then there was that she was exceptionally intelligent and in college by age 17), but more than anything else, her voluptuous 37-23-36 figure and aloof aura exuded sexuality.. OMG, she was way more than the appearance or imagination too. Oooohh.
Though reserved, Susan had natural grace and was witty and comfortably in control all of the time.
She was just out of college. She attracted the men. The male staff at the large high school numbered about sixty or so. I would learn in bits and dribbles that nearly half of them (many married too) unsuccessfully hit on her.
When it became assumed I was Susan's boyfriend, it brought perks. Being a substitute teacher led to lots of natural interaction, you know.. inquiry about class behavior and that sort of thing. There were many teachers that would come to me the next day. I was flirted with and touched constantly. A few were quite bold (asking to meet). Now I just cannot leave out this next story.
One day this smallish, timid looking female approaches me in the hallway. {her math classroom happened to be next to Susan's English class-- and I don't know if maybe she heard through the walls or what-- since, a few time Susan had locked the classroom door and pulled me into the corner so I could play with her ..... (though windows to the parking area left no cover there)}
Anyway, the math teacher had it all thought out. She does no introductory small talk, no hello, no nothing. {animated, smiling, terribly nervous} Here is what she tells me:
"I am (full name). I live_ _ _ _ (address)
You don't need to remember. I am in the phone book. It would be romantic if you climbed the tree next to my room and came through the window some evening. (nervous laugh) I don't think you'll be able to do that. (pause to look at me) I always leave the side door open. My upstairs bedroom faces the east."
She turns and walks away. I know she has spent much of her energy to say this. She wants for me to visit, and enter unannounced, to ravish her.
Now taking a step back. Susan actually laughed under her breath when I first asked her to go out with me somewhere. I persisted at first asking, and she then accepted and gave me her phone number. The date did not go well, and I saw Susan as being way over my head.
I expected her rejection next ask, but was able to coax a date. Susan cut this meeting short. Politeness was correct, but dry. I have not even kissed her.
I had begun praying to God. It is not something I have ever done in earnest. I have this painful desire for want of Susan. I am coming apart, not sleeping. I beg God if only he would give me Susan or take this misery of desire from me. I cannot bring myself to call Susan after the way I was left to hang out to dry. It is like asking to be shown the most luxurious piece of jewelry at NY Tiffany, when all I have is ten dollars in my pocket.
I ask anyway.
Susan refuses my offer. I am embarrassed, but I am somewhat relieved of the obsession, though the hurt. I think I have managed to get 'k (okay) out to say goodbye.
As I'm to hang up the phone, Susan truly DOES STUN me, "You can come to my apartment Friday night at 7:00 for a couple drinks." She does not say more, I CANNOT say ANYTHING. Susan then hangs up without a word.
It was understood I was coming.
It was understood really who was in control.
She knew I would come and ........
This can become as lewd as I would want to tell the truth.
Oh My God
to be continued...
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Before anything else:
serloco, I want you to know I recognize I am receiving your infusion of balance. It is like a vibrant persistent stream from you that brings gravity's pull of JUST EVERYTHING to bathe my center.
Loved plan-it
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Just let's say, Susan became the perfect petty tyrant to learn from (almost literally from the bottom up/ smile) Susan's parents and close aunt had high aspirations for her. I was a substitute teacher and unstable horse player. Susan saw no future with me and became conflicted as first I lived with her. She wanted me to leave/and not. This led to exquisitely insane (almost sado-masochistic) sexual dynamics) I am tempted to print the descriptive detailed narrative from out of my book {from Enlightened Cuckold (1st version) to SHAME OMG DELICIOUS}. If I do, it won't stay up here for mre than a day.
Anyway, as I pursued my desired vocation to bet horses, there were many shifts in the relation. Horse playing has been the center point of my tonal. My first mirror gave me the grounding and encouragement there too. Though I had the literal physical experience of death-ground, it was the physical/psychological experience in death-ground that happened in horse racing that I draw from most.
I was in the fire at a race meet (rented condo and all), losing all I had at a point in life that delineated clearly, that if I were to continue and fail, it would surely result in a most horrible life. Without question, Susan would have sensibly moved on without me. I understood in a compressed moment (just like seven principles of stalking, though I certainly did not think, "Oh Geez, I'll do the CC thingy.") that I was actuallyin the fight for my life. I recognized if I could not choose to risk profound failure then neither could I EVER choose a freedom to become..
My ONLY freedom was in that moment to CHOOSE. Fear dictating a decision at that point would be fear controlling the rest of my life. I SAW that. I remebered why I was there, why I rented a condo, my understanding of what grounding really is. I KNEW I was in deathground. That I live or die (fate), or how I lived or died no longer mattered. All of everything was my decision. It was a very powerful thing.
All of the negativity around me disappeared, and I was at peace. Then I battled and won.
Susan married me the following year; my Summa Cum Laude (smile) daughter was born the year following.
There are so many GREAT stories passed over, but I'm only wanting to give a skeletal frame.
I would meet my 2nd mentor, and I profusely advanced my awareness. Reason was so sharp, and the tonal was in near perfect order, and I would experience nirvana for several hours at one juncture. I was on an uninterupted super-duper high for over half a year. There was virtually no thing in my path that did not manifest auspiciously. When Alonzo left I could not sustain my course because I lacked the necessary detachment. Life was not at all bad per se, but slowly I slipped from keener awareness and I was not fully in control. This was made clear in a huge marital dissension a decade later that 'forced' me to recapitulate through writing (I hardly ever wrote before this). The recapitulation, as I say, brought FANTASTIC energy, which now that I think of it, was necessary to face emptiness.
Then a couple years later, I find serloco on this site. Over a year later, here I am writing this.
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talk about regression/lol
Other:
I'm thinking that this is somewhat related to your question Mornings Son. I know this much M.S. whatever I learn usually has nice clarity. So if, or when I do shift the AP I'll be able to relate it.
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Good that you are praying billy. Very good. Good that you believe. I dont know how you could not believe considering how you see my life sometimes.. And you see my experiences sometimes too. Ask and it shall be given..
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Susan's tooth ache seems a lot improved; she put off calling for root canal. The other thing is remarkable there derek really
will erase here
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The following is an excerpt from a book I had written a few years ago. This is plain literary indulgence here (I will erase in a day) I am getting sloppy.
(Susan pen name is Sharon) Warning--sexual content.
As Sharon would have me to move on, my clothes packed, I would cling to her as one who refuses to let go. I lowered my head for the consolation of her bosom. I would try to say goodbye, but inevitably there was 'one last time.'
Nestled between Sharon's breasts, I instinctively nudged away clothing from the
cleavage using my nose. Sharon's taut protrusions provided opportune space. Her
fixation with her own tits was a weakness, and my mouth would quickly find its way.
Sharon could never resist; all her resolve left as if air from a balloon the moment I
would suck a wanting nipple.
Clothes would come off, and Sharon would settle on top of me, her **** soaked. Emotions were off the charts, my heart is broken already, but Sharon would make me promise, that this would be it.
This ritual evolved beyond language of words; the facial exchanges became primal and pointed. At the onset, she would make me answer to her that I would leave. Instead of "Yes," I could only cry.
Sharon slapped me because I would not answer, then harder because I cried.
She threatened to raise herself, but I only sobbed.
She would withdraw her body enough to remove me; I would become desperate to pull her back to me in that moment. And, having relented by allowing me back inside of her, she became wickedly angry.
She would slap me so hard, I really wanted physical reprieve. With my head on the floor, she hit with precision and clout.
I would raise my head and body up towards her to abate her harm. When I tried for the refuge of her tits, Sharon went wild. She would put both of her palms over/around my nose and pummel my head back to the carpeted cement. When Sharon does it right, the sound of that thud is alarming, and I am dazed by the blow.
This all became a wordless ritual. Sharon would only have to look at me, to ask, "Did you have enough? Do you understand I can, and will do it again if you do not obey me?"
I would lay still. Nevertheless, Sharon would slap me once hard, and stare me down again. Her stern expression poses the ultimate unambiguous question, "DO YOU
UNDERSTAND?" {I am to understand that she owns me.. I do know}
It is amazing how my penis would tingle in surrender. Sharon senses the obedience, and the harsh look softens. She will begin a focused process to dominate and use me as it suits her.
Sharon sways her tits in fascinating rhythm. This is so mesmerizing, so soothing.
Sharon will handle a tit and point an erect pink nipple at my eyes. Sharon bolsters my focus
and makes my aim unmistakeably certain. Her manipulation is expertly wicked.
Her power destroys my will. I can only crave in agony. Sharon has what I need.
Sharon sways her tits more, but now a little closer. Sometimes her nipple is close enough that if I nod my head I can touch. And, I will try to touch.
Sharon will be more gentle, but her hands still firmly push my head down. Sharon is methodically cruel. My tears are now a plea, an unrestrained begging.
She increases the pressures of pleasure and denial by actually putting
her nipple into my mouth. Sharon sees my perfect gaze and knows that I am one with her prize, so she allows a momentary suckle. She pulls her tit away from me.
I am hypnotized.
Now, when Sharon puts her nipple close to my mouth, my lips part involuntarily.
She and allows, then thwarts. My nervous system renders me helpless. I am crying
deliriously.
Sharon gives me her nipple to keep. OMG. OMG! I sniffle through my nose convulsively while sucking, taking in healing air as Mommy makes my world right.
We were then both lost in an indescribable zone, a genuine act of passion, that
sometimes lasted minutes. {From beginning to end was passionate, but I refer here to a
rapturous mix of primal anguish and pleasure that took us both far away.}
Shhh baby, shhh. Soft and caressing... "Mommy will take care of you."
Shhh, shhh to cure the convulsions and sniffling from denial. Shhh shhh shhh ... shhh ...shhh
My sniffles now have long, involuntary intakes of breathe. Shhh shhh
(silent) "Yes, its okay, Mommy loves you." {I use words to describe what is really
happening, but there NEVER were words at this stage, just intensity and soothing Shhh
shhh...shhh}
I am sucking hard, and I put my hands to Sharon's tit. Shhh Shhh Shhh Shhh. Sharon
forgets she is mothering me, is one with baby. The tempo of shhh's is becoming faster, and so is Sharon's rhythmic cadence riding me.
Sharon's Shhhhshhhshhh... is no longer voluntary and she is reaching her climax. My body commences strong pelvic thrusts to meet Sharon's. Sharon is in violent urgency as I am clung to her tit in an uncontrollable act of suckling.
Breathing stops. The bodies stop, the world stops ......
Then bursts of released air from the lungs are desperate, rutting animal noises. Shudders come in tremors of ecstatic anguish.. Orgasm is ALWAYS simultaneous.
By the fifth time, there are no words from beginning to end. Facial
expressions are infinite, and eyes exchange a perfectly warped communion. Our
private dirty secret has the luscious, alchemy of perverse human obscenity.
There was no trust on my part; I was plain willing to accept however brutal Sharon
wanted to be. Period. I think I would have let her kill me.
This kept escalating to a more violent ritual to satisfy the distorted psych of each. About the eighth or ninth time I had left a significant bruise on one of Sharon's tits which totally pissed her off. I was finally made to leave.
A month later I would have a very serious accident after a date with another girl. I was very drunk, fled the police at high speeds in a car chase, and crashed. I was in an existential moment of knowing I had to decide for life or death, to take another breath, to stay conscious.
Perhaps the awful car wreck after our last time was an appendage, and Sharon is still
beating me to death. {after I am out of the hospital and jail, Sharon will take me back with her}
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
There were many separations over one and a half decades before we married. Sometimes I needed her. Sometimes she needed me more.
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So as to let you know, Susan and I did not revive this, and from that last time forward she would never again slap me. Believe me too, I tried a few times to revisit this as a fetish.
Also, Susan never cuckolded me. I picked up that fantasy after recapitulation a few years ago for various reasons.
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I really think about abstaining from words here for months just to see what existential characteristics are going to be reflected in contrast to how it is now. I have this nice, steady sensation of everything moving to my center. I have always had this, but not as a an ever-present flow. On a scale of one to ten, it is two or three relative to the stronger inward movements I have experienced before. It is distinctive for consistency. I temper every impingement of reactions, emotions, and looses thoughts rather easily. One of the first things I noticed, was this ability to have balanced center without distinction to the types and intensities of influence and sentiment. Little or no bias of judgement exists. Stimuli are equal. I know of course to pay attention that I have THIS flow. I anticipate it will become stronger and that I can be stationed in indifference.
I mention and am thankful to serloco often here for things he has done. Moreover, the gratitude is for giving me keys to all the doors of the mansion. Though words like center, indifference, black canvas, healing can only be abstract descriptor, what is inside this figurative mansion are all empirically tangible once I see them. I have no idea how many nooks and crannies, but I will likely find them and what is set there. Shape shifting and other objects are in the next room or the next closet waiting for me.
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I really think about abstaining from words here for months just to see what existential characteristics are going to be reflected in contrast to how it is now. I have this nice, steady sensation of everything moving to my center. I have always had this, but not as a an ever-present flow. On a scale of one to ten, it is two or three relative to the stronger inward movements I have experienced before. It is distinctive for consistency. I temper every impingement of reactions, emotions, and looses thoughts rather easily. One of the first things I noticed, was this ability to have balanced center without distinction to the types and intensities of influence and sentiment. Little or no bias of judgement exists. Stimuli are equal. I know of course to pay attention that I have THIS flow. I anticipate it will become stronger and that I can be stationed in indifference.
I mention and am thankful to serloco often here for things he has done. Moreover, the gratitude is for giving me keys to all the doors of the mansion. Though words like center, indifference, black canvas, healing can only be abstract descriptor, what is inside this figurative mansion are all empirically tangible once I see them. I have no idea how many nooks and crannies, but I will likely find them and what is set there. Shape shifting and other objects are in the next room or the next closet waiting for me.
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core. darkness, void, align. synchronicity, command, twin, parallel, non volitional, indifference, love
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As to the sensual story...... going from utter anguish to mommy's affectionate nipple in my mouth was a surreal pleasure.
From panicky rejection to a sensually perfect bond, caused instantaneous transfer of opposite primal emotions that we both shared.
Make no mistake, this was a prison I was to be in. This illustrates what I stated earlier that I had no maturity or awareness then.
After the car crash, and immediately following my court appearance, I would meet Joe. We were both on a bus to the racetrack. He recognized me as being at the same wedding reception the previous weekend, and so he introduced himself. We were to become very close friends immediately.
So here I was again in parallel worlds. Susan was constrictive, Joe was expansive and freeing. I wonder if you can even imagine what psychological conflict would ensue in that dynamics over many, many years.
LAUGH.. Joe would be the best man and ONLY person at my elopement with Susan 14 years later. They both traveled long distances to where I was playing the horses in Hot Springs, Arkansas. The wedding was at a chapel directly across from the racetrack.
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I may examine detachment in a way to explain its workings, reviewing the basics. Nothing is ever lost there, even if one has developed.
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I also want to reiterate about words being sacred to detachment. One must be able to bring a word, sentence, or concept to heart as singularily important to SELF.
If you are not used to randomly plucking words out from amenable sources to draw to your heart and into the empty void's promise, you must begin doing that. This is a self/SELF creative exercise.
Detachment may give space, but what of that? If the space is left without creative forces of SELFHOOD, no circular reinforcement happens. That is, the episodes of detachment bring no integral value of manifesting your wholeness. It takes practice to know your wholeness and ease. You need to SEE it.
Words in the given space of detachment become an empirical realization because you choose that. Nothing is out there. It is within.
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I found this girl billy.. she is like a dream come true.. she is so sweet and innocent, she has only had one orgasm in life, only had sex once in her freaking life!! SHe is smart but so innocent, she wants to mate with me already but wants to take it slow. She didn't even know of the things a man and woman can do for each together in the bed room!! I have to educate her.. she is so naive billy... like putty in my hands.. I am falling for her too.
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