mustbelionhearted - Tumblr blog

[mustbelionhearted]

It was a loud yet muted sound of voices and a feeling of non belonging that overwhelmed my senses to the point of madness. I sat quietly without making a sound of my own. Except for my rapidly beating heart and the screaming in my head. I had a yearning I couldn’t describe. This ache felt dizzying. I had felt it too long, it was infinite. Where was the place I would feel at ease with being, living? When? I needed something, a giant experience, an overtaking of some kind. I sat in that room full of proper behavior, walls built between people and their own humanity. Everyone hiding behind a religious, political and social curtain. Very proper ones. “To be proper” was the goal. I never imagined Jesus being this proper. If he truly lived, In my eyes he was raw. In his humanness, he was inappropriate and deliriously raw, contagious with his presence. I imagine he was so honest with his own beingness that it was sexy. Yes, very sexy. Thinking about this while sitting in that stifled room made me feel a sense of relief. A release I needed. But not enough to stop my panic. It wasn’t Jesus I needed. I didn’t know who or what actually. One thing I did know was that I didn't belong there, with them, their goals. I felt like when I was a child and I knew I was about to do something wrong and I foresaw being reprimanded. But this time I wanted it, I needed it. The conflict and confrontation. I couldn’t understand why or what I needed exactly. I sat there watching the elders talk to their daughters and wives and husbands and grandsons. Everyone so well dressed, so fucking proper. It annoyed me. I wanted to take my clothes off and masturbate in the middle of the fucking room. Shocking everyone and their appropriateness. Imagining this scene play out, I felt warm and breathless. The idea of making eye contact with a room full of squares and their ideals while I behaved as raw as I craved, for their enjoyment or judgement, I didn’t have a preference on either. It was exhilarating really… And then something happened. I imagined making eye contact with one man. The look in his eyes said everything to me. His knowing, It was everything. He stood behind the crowd watching me touch myself, his eyes looked hunting and allowing. He was drunk with the sight and yet he was warning me. In this daydream I realized more about myself than I had ever in my life. Maybe it was all those squares and their proper stiffness that made me give birth to myself, so I shall say thank you. Thank you.

- Alice Rabbit

[mustbelionhearted]

Thank you for receiving me so stunningly. You really are quite something, little hazelnut.

Silas

[mustbelionhearted]

My Adonis

He has trained his whole life to be a warrior. I would erase all the pain he has endured if I could, except it has made him who he is.

My Adonis.

I much rather show him how to open his heart again than to teach him how to be a man.

Sex is his domain. Not in a selfish way, at least not since I started seeing him. Perhaps when he was younger, his desire to fuck and make women squirm had a bit more recklessness, maybe. But no, he is a giver. He thrives by making my body squeal and writhe in pleasure. His skills are unmatched to anyone I have ever known. Hours of teasing and flirting, mind games that make me want his name tattooed on my veins.

He breathes and loves WOMAN. He wants to know everything about the feminine surrender. He is patient and collected when it counts and completely affected by my love when I choose to overwhelm him.  The best Daddy and such a good boy.

His body is a consequence of his warrior like mentality. Every part of him an extension of how to induce pleasure and desired amount of pain.

When I say “He knows” I mean he is a willing student and a masterful teacher. The things I learn from him are all about loving myself more. Taking care of myself in ways that to him seem obvious.

Does he know what he makes me feel?

I am spinning. Upwards in consciousness. Yet down and down the rabbit hole I fall. The depth of my longing for this man are being met head on.

Did I mention how flawless his cock is?

How my body surrenders to it, how it fits like no one else?

I guess that deserves its own post.

- Alice Rabbit

[mustbelionhearted]

I said I would write

I said I would be honest about my feelings

For everything

To let the world feel my truth as their own permission to exist.

But fear of judgment has kept my hands tide

My thoughts short.

If this is about transformation, then I am 100 times the butterfly i came to be

I feel my truth from the center of my heart to the tip of my fingers and toes

My truth is that I only want to do what turns me on, I want to only take action by measuring the way my body feels at the invitation of them.

I am going to write this even if I never share it with you because it might come out of me. Not only because, like a faucet left open, it cannot be stopped. Words rush out of my mind as my body squeals in curiocity for you. I also know it is my way of giving you my gift. The gift of feeling seen. First you must know you turn me on. You did the moment I met you, many years ago. Time stopped then and it seems to have begun again. I drowned my thoughts for you with “Stranger, far away, monogamy, save your relationship, no distractions…” But our bodies don’t lie. My body, my sweat, my hunger, my curiosity and my excitement… All of it calling for more time with you, more space with you.

Ahhh to be alone for a week on a beach with you. Endless hours to hear your thoughts, moans, breath; to smell you, to host you in my body. To feel your weight on me. Is this the effect you have on many?

Silas, You turn me on. I feel it in my heart, in the center of my chest. Sending pulses to my pussy, inviting her to participate. She does, she calls for you.

When you walk into my space, i am inundated with a thousand butterflies. All of them whispering your name.

This feeling doesn’t come easy. It feels divine, otherworldly. Why are we taught to ignore it or shut it down? The only true reason would be because you don’t feel the same. In which I would indeed have to get over it, even if deemed a tragedy.

I have felt this before, at times I have given in and the feeling fizzled out. Like killing a myth. But leaving it a myth has always felt like a crime, just leaving myself behind.

Writing at least feels like a confirmation of sorts. No matter what happens, thank you for turning me on so much.

I have many men to be grateful for, near and far. I have been blessed with desire, the pleasure and pain from it.

To want something instantly comes with pain. The pain of acknowledging that what you desire is still not yours, and if it were, one day you would have to part ways with it. If nothing else by death.

But hunger is the engine of desire and without it, we feel nothing.

To be hungry is a blessing if eventually you can find what you are craving. Or by some miracle find a way to release your craving. Or by some miracle find a way to release your craving. 

It’s easy to forget how profound raw pleasure is, What is makes of me. When I listen and follow what I really want. 

I’m striving to listen to it more.

You light me up in every way my body is supposed to feel alive. 

I met you April 11th, 2018 and I will never forget it

- Alice Rabbit

[mustbelionhearted]

about_lucien

[mustbelionhearted]

[mustbelionhearted]

[mustbelionhearted]

[mustbelionhearted]

[mustbelionhearted]

[mustbelionhearted]

me and who

[mustbelionhearted]

cinemagraph artist

[mustbelionhearted]

[mustbelionhearted]

“It frightened him to think what must have gone to the making of her eyes.”-Edith Wharton

[mustbelionhearted]

[mustbelionhearted]

[mustbelionhearted]