Salty Cream on My Tongue

Gay boys know exactly what I am talking about. The exquisite warm flesh in my mouth, the cock-head almost touching my epiglottis, making me gag. Sucking hard as I can, taking lovely soft, full flesh inside me, flesh pounding like the piston of a Porsche. My head bobbing fast as possible, eager, hungry, obsessed, more than ready to receive his thick, salty gushes of cream. Generous, rushes, spurts from deep in his big balls. I cup his balls in my hand, squeezing, teasing, caressing, as I gulp the full load. Then I let cream drip slowly from my lips, cream flowing from my mouth, glazing, frosting his aching, tingling cock-head.

Semen drips from the mouth of the Goddess. This could be a Wiccan hymn of praise, a celebration of our innate, delicious sexuality. Of course, we see this scene in porn all the time. But there is no spirituality in 99.99% of the porn I have seen. It is all about getting-off, usually in some exaggerated, spastic, drama driven Bugs Bunny-comic cinematic style. Real people, in real bedrooms don't need to turn sex into an Oscar-winning performance. All we really need to do is give-in to our spontaneous joy, let desire take over, ride the wave, let the thick cock body-surf my tongue. I will lift you like a powerful wave. I will drink your cum.

The see images, still shots and video of my friend Aurora Belle, surrounded by large spurting cocks, five or six seed-dispersal units, blasting semen all over her beautiful face. How does this move forward the progress of human love and understanding, or benefit the spiritual lives of men and women? Are we supposed to want to be in this scene ourselves? As the lusted-for hot female, or as one of the spurting, anonymous men? (we only see their cocks, not their faces. ) How does any of this improve anyone's life in any way? Fuck. Now I am sounding preachy.

I don't mean to sound preachy. I am simply pointing out: Porn can be fun, arousing, satisfying, quick entertainment. But usually porn has no capacity to go any further than that. It is not a well-written novel. It is not an honest, heart-felt poem. It is not a symphony nor a string quartet by a great composer. It is porn. People getting off. People making money. And the audience jacking-off, or diddling with a vibrator. As a heterosexual woman, I get off as I watch Aurora Belle suck cock, only because I personally know her, and personally love her. If I did not love her. The whole thing would look silly. Some staged fake, fake, fake, stupid and irritating drama with no content worth talking about.

The content I care about gives me some useful ideas, some ways of seeing, or ways of loving I had not previously considered. I want to learn something. I don't just want to get off. And then get off again, and again, a few days later, month to month, year to year, as if getting-off was a repetitive goal, like eating a good breakfast.

If porn could teach me something useful about being in love and staying in love, and being peaceful and joyful with the people around me--- then I might consider porn as useful as a good novel. Frankly, not even many novels these days, cut to the heart of the matter, and help us love each other more effectively. I enjoy reading short stories by Anton Chekhov because they show actual humans behaving like actual humans. For good or evil, the characters talk about us, and act like us. Watching ourselves, at a distance, we begun to see how to make improvements. We can learn how this or that small change in our attitude, or our ways of doing things, can make our lives better, more joyful, less fearful, and in the end, honestly spiritual.