Second commandment

I tell you the truth: Sex be hallowed - never fake orgasms.

Orgasm count

Is it love when you count orgasms?

Search for sexual simplicity

I wish he could sink into me, perforate my skin yet make it stronger and unify my cells. I wish that my orgasms were soft accents.

Das Tun und Treiben 2

With a nice portion of luck you can get your own heel parmesan by help of a nice callus shaver.

Lust for invisibility

I used to say about my imaginary ex-boyfriend that he was the only one who really knew me. I wish I could say that again, just to relive the sweet loneliness and holy twosomeness. Sometimes I wish I had only one reader of this blog whom I didn't know, who was as mysterious, distant and yet close as my imaginary ex-boyfriend. Because I do miss him.

In the air

Suicide and spring
how well they go together;
the sweet scent of eternity and pain
How can I resist
knowing that happiness never lasts
but only comes in glimpses
and drinks from perfume bottles

Romantic

Something is seriously wrong when my suicide attempt was way more romantic than sunday morning in a vacation week. For many years I no longer despised my survival. Now I can again see the beauty in it, regrettably, although without longing for my own death.

Intimacy wanted

He says: I want to be inside you. Ten minutes later he grabs his cereals and, without a word, heads towards his desk for a solitary breakfast.

Intimacy cannot exist without stability, predictability. And perhaps I am not sexually challenged after all.

In one's own world

It's ok that you are in your own world sometimes. It is probably necessary, like I need to be in my own world. But please, be still in our wold, in my world.

When a man isn't enough

Sometimes I complain that my boyfriend isn't man enough. He isn't that strong, caring character I need in my life. But the problem isn't him, really. I need a pro. My ex, a doctor, knew what I needed and he gave it to me. But he gave it to me because he fancied me. In a client-therapist/patient-doctor relationship this would by most people be considered professional misconduct. I think he conducted himself very well and I don't care if he did it because he fancied me. He wanted to help me, he wanted to be close to me, and through this we were intimate. But most importantly, he helped me. Now I mourn the me who needed care but to whom nobody attended.

In love

You know you're in love when you start listening to a particular composer, not because you like him but because He likes him.

Happiness

A glimpse of a gentleman's panties, alerted nostrils, fingers charged.

The art of healing

Only through the art of healing can Ars Erotica and Scientia Sexualis be brought together.

Fiction + truths = shame

There are only fictional truths in shame. How noble factual lies are in comparison!

Mind the gap

My doorstep is a border. The gap between my life at home and the life other people see is bigger than the gap between my dreams and my actual achievements.

Void

I will miss all the sex we didn't have.

Sexual emancipation

The history of sexual emancipation will always be a history of the future of the past.

The art of lying III

When something considered a fact, a truth, is so unlikely and unbelievable that it is hard to believe it actually happened, what is then the status of fiction and credible lies? "You couldn't have made that stuff up", people sometimes say when they hear about something extraordinary. So wherein lies the art of lying?

I tell you the truth: Make your lies like life itself.

Trouble in Paradise

You know there's trouble when your partner has too many traits in common with Johnny Suede.

To be or not to be

I suffered under their noble intentions, was killed by their cowardice, rose again through my brainy lies, and ascended into exile.

Reality check

Even prostitutes have families.

Pleasure/Therapy

I'd rather be a perv and express my lusts than be a needy patient.

Where the truth lies

'Not true' means it hasn't happened in what most people call reality. I guess it is fair to say that quite a few things in my life aren't true in the sense that they have been made up and partly lived by me. However, some of the lies I have lived have become true. When you lie and people believe you, or your lies have concequences as if they were true, then the distinction between truths and lies is no longer valid. I really can't see anything wrong with it. It is not like the canoe man fraud or anything, it is just about making one's life bearable.

I tell you the truth: Lie, and survive.

The Power of Fantasies

"Think of nothing else, just enjoy", he said. How can I explain to him that in order to enjoy, I have to think of something else?

Turn on = turn off

Sadly, the ultimate sign of a man's arousal, the pre-ejaculation liquid on his penis, is disgusting to me. I don't know whether it is possible to learn to like it, neither whether I would actually ever like to like it.

Sexually suppressed my @§§

Why do we fantasise about odd and kinky sexual activities and even feed our dreams by watching porn, involving ourselves in roleplays and so on, but rarely live other non-sexual dreams we may have?

The economy of intimacy - revised

I wrote that I receive while he gives. That's not very accurate. I also give. I give him my vulnerability, my trust. That's way more than some hours of cunnilingus or a dozen blowjobs.

The economy of intimacy

He kissed me and cuddled me only when we were fully dressed. We still had quite heavenly sex. He sexed me basically. It was the perfect balance: I didn't manage/want to give, he didn't manage/want to receive. Now that's reciprocity. In a way.

Turn-on?

I wonder whether I should break up with my current boyfriend and get together again with my imaginary ex-boyfriend. At least my imaginary ex doesn't roll his hips in the morning. And he sometimes turns me on I must admit.

Turn-off

Rolling hips in the morning is a big turn-off when intimacy is all that you want.

Funny coincidence

Isn't it a funny coincidence that macho men who claim that 95% of all women are hookers (because they wear short skirts and party) only have got a chance to find a woman among on the 1 percentage (if not less) of the women who actually are hookers?

But what is a hooker anyway?

The courage of change

"Lie, and become the true you", I said. Apotemnophiles don't have to lie. In order to achieve their goals of having a body that corresponds with their identity they have to tell a surgeon the truth. Either way:

I tell you the truth: Change yourself, and become the true you.

Ease or dis-ease

What's worst: Apotemnophilia or a desire to become a cannibal's victim?

A sexually challenged's perception of intimacy II

And his ankle. Or maybe his ankle only. OK, both of them. But not his toes. Toes can be ugly, ankles not.

A sexually challenged's perception of intimacy

Tea and a tall waiter's tired feet post-shift. In my loft.

Control

The ultimate control of one's life is when the candles burn out exactly two minutes after you've fallen asleep.

Longing for a perfect nipple

I am longing for a perfect nipple. Or two. Not that I am not happy with my own. I fancy a perfect nipple like I fancy an oriental rug, a Moroccan lamp, some antique Chinese furniture.

Status quo

Being 46 years and 1 month old and cowardice is still your rule of life, I should have given up on you but I have yet to do it. So what is my rule of life then?

Bad guys

Bad guys don't always look the same. Compare two countries in Western Europe and you'll find that in one the good guys are in pullovers, shirts, should have been to the hairdresser three weeks ago and wear thin-frammed glasses. The exact same guys turn out to be eloquent predators in the other. It took me two years. I need to review my preferences.

Satisfaction, -fiction, -friction

Satisfaction: Sexual pleasure is simply act of being able to trust, be relaxed - in someone's presence? It doesn't matter whether it's a boyfriend, a one-night-stand, an escort, a therapist.
Satisfiction: The idea that sexual pleasure always should be heavenly and fantastic.
Satisfriction: The idea that sexual pleasure is a human right, and that your partner require too much or too little of it.

Bold and brave lies

Isn't it quite bold and brave to lie in order to pursue your goals, what you want the most?

The art of lying II

If you ever think of creating an imaginary boyfriend or imaginary ex-boyfriend, make sure you don't make him everything you want a man to be. Thing is, you got to have to have a credible reason for breaking up with him. Make him with flaws like all others, make him human. Otherwise you'll have to either make him do something nasty to you or create a change in yourself (and, mind you, change accordingly) so that you no longer can be together, or you'd have to create him with an illness of some kind that makes him forever handicapped and unable to maintain a relationship with you - or kill him. Which is cruel. Even to an imaginary person. I know authors kill their characters and give them cancer, heart attacks and other awful things all the time, and they even mourn them, but that's a bit different. Your imaginary boyfriend or imaginary ex-boyfriend is, after all, part of your life. That's why you created him in the first place. Nothing wrong with that. (No, seriously, absolutely nothing wrong.) But, since he is part of your life, you'd better treat him with some respect. You wouldn't kill your sister just because reality is burning in your ass or because you figure out you're better off without her, would you?

The art of lying

The art of lying is the art of economizing one's words: Don't say too much, don't say too little.

Uncertainty

It is a bad sign, isn't it, that I always ask myself "do I really mean this?" every time I write "love you" to my boyfriend. How do I know? Isn't it a bit forced? I suspect I write it because I think I should. Somehow. I don't know. And that's bad. I think.

Why am I writing?

I am writing because it's the only way to create the universe as I want it, to access my lost childhood.

Romanticism

What is actually wrong with this?

Gender inequalities

A great variety in sex toys for women
vs
a great variety in escorts for men.

(I have the impression that most male escorts are gay).
It's unfair, but in favour of whom?

Mir fehlt...

...ein Sexblog eines Pfarrers.

Puzzles of Shame

It shouldn't shock anyone that the bestselling author likes fucking her husband with a strap-on, neither that she's visited Eyes Wide Shut-style parties. But it sort of shocks me that I was the successful director's first sex partner - at the age of 7.

A former unpaid whore

Yes, I am a former unpaid whore. Ashamed? Nah. I didn't do anything wrong. But my clients did. In their hornyness they mistook a victim of child sexual abuse for a sexually free-spirited young woman. Not promiscuous, because then some alarm bells could have gone off. The happy whore myth suits them well. And they're still horny and unsatisfied.

Mystery

What is actually a forced orgasm? If forced orgasm is an orgasm at all, then an orgasm is nothing but contractions, spasms. And that's sad. In a way worse than fake orgasms. Rather no orgasm than a fake orgasm. And rather a fake orgasm than a forced orgasm. Maybe one day I'll allow someone to force an orgasm upon me.

Archive of shame

"Do you really want this to be on your records forever?" Do we really want anything to be on our records forever? I guess I wouldn't have done much if I were to think about that all the time. We all have things on our records we'd like to remove.

Untrue? III

I haven't even told my boyfriend that I've taken pictures of my heart-shaped box. (It is indeed heart-shaped. I have proof. (No, I won't show you.)) I don't think I will tell him either. But if I told him, I wouldn't have shown him. I don't know why. Maybe because this is a part of my sexuality that I despise. Or maybe because I can't tell him the reason why I took those pictures - that the doctor asked for some pics. Another man made me an exhibitionist - almost. Am I untrue?

Untrue? II

I've crossed a border, that's for sure. But what if I send this to a friend who happens to be a doctor? Am I untrue?

Untrue?

Yesterday I skipped lunch so that I could attend to a customer, a medic, 32 years old, tall, handsome, bilingual, well dressed, cool shoes, well behaved, cute, glasses, beautiful name. Am I, or was I untrue?

I tried to milk him for as much relevant information as possible. "Moving abroad, you say? Now that's a huge step. All alone in the big world, huh?" If he had a girlfriend, he could have said "Not all alone, actually." He could also have said "Yeah, but I'm a big boy", leaving me puzzled. But what he said was: "Yes, but I like changes."

Dick-on sexual therapy

A study shows that treating vaginismus with a man surrogate partner was at least as effective as couple therapy (100% vs 75%). The authors' conclusion is that "surrogate therapy may be considered for vaginismus patients who have no cooperative partner". Really? Shouldn't it rather be that surrogate therapy should be considered for patients no matter whether they have partners or not?

Sexual healing III

What's to prefer: To seek healing with sexual arousal as side-effect or to seek sexual arousal with healing as side-effect?

Fear

When he says it's difficult for him, he doesn't know what to think, he has problems expressing himself clearly, I wonder whether it's not just an obstacle. I wonder whether it's a wall, that there isn't anything more to be expected, that I ask too difficult quesitons and that he can't express himself.

A masturbating pornographer?

"Do you masturbate while writing?", the successful pornographer was asked. "No, I'm too focused on the structure of the sentences...", was the answer. My question is: Who is the best pornographer: A) the one who masturbates while writing B) the one who doesn't masturbate while writing C) the one who masturbates and then starts writing D) the one who masturbates after finishing writing

Need for therapy

I can only explore intimacy when protected by professional secrecy and boundaries.

Sexual therapy

After I had tried out different therapies for more than a decade I found the best therapy ever in my search for sexual satisfaction. The only way of overcoming abuse is to let pleasure into your life.

Truth alert

I googled the guy to whom I lost my virginity at age 14. I got two hits, one was "are you talking about that pedo monster NN". His reputation couldn't be more accurate.

Sexual healing II

Why oh why do people seek doctors and sexologists for their sexual problems and not escorts? (The answer is shame. Shame on you if you didn't know that.)

Archeology of shame II - and revenge

When I found all the drugs you'd given me - you coward, too damn afraid of actually helping me because it's way easier to subscribe things that break people down - I realised I should keep them. I'll wait for the right moment - the moment to literally give you a taste of your own medicine. Sweet revenge.

Not a hard choice

I'd rather have a therapist with a hard-on in his pants than one who wets them.

Abuse?

How could the therapist have abused me when all he did was fulfilling my needs? How could fulfilling a patient's needs be abusive? Is finding pleasure in one's job abusive? I don't care about a saluting soldier in his pants as long as I get healed.

Rape and true pain

I've been raped. What eats me the most is that I broke wind while it happened. No, what eats me the most is that some ghoulish moron's favourite fantasy is to rape or watch a young girl being raped while she's farting.

Archeology of shame

A psychology bill from 1997. A prescription on birth control pills from 2001. Enough opium to kill myself 12 times. Chicken bones from 2005. Dirty dinner plates from 2003. And a book from a time unknown titled: The book about a life improved.

Good to know

Greed:	Medium
Gluttony:	Low
Wrath:	Medium
Sloth:	Low
Envy:	Medium
Lust:	High
Pride:	High

Discover Your Sins - Click Here

Out of proportions

Something must be wrong when my poop is bigger than my lover's erected penis.

Couldhavebeen

I could have been something great. It feels like I'm doomed to be a couldhavebeen which is of course way worse than having always been a nobody. But this goddamn shame forced upon me and the following self-imposed fear and isolation seem to have sealed my destiny.

Bored, maybe even sexually bored

Your Girl Parts Are Named:

Heart Shaped Box

Girl Parts Name Generator

First commandment

Shame is the strongest of all feelings. It can kill you. In fact, it kills you. Even if you don't commit suicide, shame kills the true you, the person you would like to be in the most cruel and subtle ways. Does shame allow anything to flourish?

I tell you the truth: Renounce shame, and thou shalt flourish.

When all comes to an end

$3040.00The Cadaver Calculator - Find out how much your body is worth.

The curse of sexual abuse

I was so ashamed - as if I was to be blamed

Sexual healing

Could and should healing be sexual and sexually arousing? The answer is: Yes

Sexually challenged IV

I'm 100% straight, yet watching tits turns me on the most when it comes to erotica. When I watch tits being touched by a handsome man, I dream of being touched myself. When I watch really small teen tits, I often wish I had such. I long for innocence. I mourn my lost innocence.

Sexually challenged III

Isn't a penis just an inflatable, organic dildo?

The man I need

I need a warrior and a laywer. I need a president, actually. I need a god. Not the coward guy known as God, no, gOd forbid, but someone who's better than the guy called God. A need a man who’s willing to put basically everything at stake, his honour, his name and reputation. One whose honour is me. One can’t ask for more. I guess one can't even ask for that. But that's what I want. What hurts me is that nobody has ever really stood up for me, fought for me. Nobody from my imaginary ex-boyfriend. Damn I miss him.

Failure candidate

"You're less keen on having sex than me". Have I ever heard more hurtful words? How can we ever get close when every kiss and every touch only seem to demonstrate the deficiency of intimacy and remind him of what he never gets enough of? No wonder I opt for a tantric approach. Nice and slow - and productively aimless.

Sexually challenged II

Is my fascination for gay guys due to my sexually challengedness? I find it intriguing that they like my boobs, and it is such a comfort knowing that they don't expect anything from me. No threatening intimacy in sight.

How misguided

"There is no shame in ..." How misguided you guys are. I believe there's shame in everything.

Dictionary needed

What's the antonym of shame?

Sufficiency of pain

How much pain do I have to go through before I can righteously write my autobiography?

Shame refugee

I'm not a war refugee, I'm a shame refugee.

Important lies II

Does it really matter whether one lies for fun or for one's survival? Shouldn't life, and hence survival, be fun?

Sexually challenged

I am sexually challenged. I don’t fancy the taste of anyone. I don’t think bodies taste any good. Am I supposed to taste my lover? Am I supposed to like the taste of my lover?

Important lies

Why condemn lies? Unless you're disturbed, you'd only lie about things that really matter. Like you wouldn't enlargen your penis if it weren't important to you.

I tell you the truth: Lies are important to you.

Sweet dream

What I want is a man who
thinks

I want to show her the world
I want to show her to the world

does the first
but refrains from the last

How II

How do you reveal that a person other people refer to simply doesn´t exist?

How

How do you deal with people who insist that you are someone else?

Fed up or fed down

Would differences in food preferences be an appropriate reason to dump your boyfriend?

Spies & Lies

Spies are sexy because lies are sexy.

Geography of identity

"Beloved reader, I leave you now with a tale penned by the Abbe de Coulmier, a man who found freedom in the unlikeliest of places; at the bottom of an inkwell, on the tip of a quill".

White porn

When the handsome doc informs me about the consultation and how he is going to examine me, it resembles the consumption of porn.

Most of me

I have a dark side and I have a dork side. And that's most of me. I'm basically a two-dimensional being. Quite ordinary.

The Decay of Lying

I tell you the truth: The art of lying shall flourish and not be museumified.

Filtered?

If I were unfiltered, I probably would have said I find Holocaust kinda sexy.

At least Adrien Brody was sexy in The Pianist as was Ralph Fiennes in Schindler's List.

Contemplation?

I'd like to write a book but I can never find the time, peace/restlessness or place. I’ve had the idea of going to jail. I don’t need much. Some quiet. Stille und Ruh. And food. And books. Lots of them. Or maybe just one. A good one. Or a bad one. And of course my fountain pen and some scrap books. Doing something really bad would then just be the preceding step of becoming a renowned author. Would be a great way of becoming famous. The urge to write drove me into killing. And I would of course not be considered insane, just mean-spirited and devoted. Very mean-spirited. And very devoted. I should take the opportunity and maybe kill someone who deserves it. Or just do something less nasty but still serious enough. Because I’d like to do 3-6 months. Or maybe a year. With two years I could finish my dissertation, too. There’d most probably be less surveillance in prison than at home anyway. And I already feel deprived of liberty. I’d have a criminal record of course, but I wouldn’t have to worry about my bills. Not that I worry anyway. That's one of my problems. Or should have been. Another option would be a stay in a monastery. Unfortunately, I doubt I'd be able to access the books I'd like. I always fall in love with titles such as Devil's Larder and 69 Things To Do With A Dead Princess even if I'm too much of a coward to actually read such. Not that it matters. Books with great titles are usually the biggest disappointments.

A resolution I didn't break

I fail to keep up with things. (Who doesn't?) Blogging for example. (There must be millions of blogs out there with 1-3 posts.) That's quite usual with me. However, unlike most people I don't consider it a pattern. I don't say "Sometimes I wonder if I ever ..." and "It seems like it's becoming habit for me ..." as if those were excuses for not keeping up to the promises one makes. Like: "It's a habit so I can't help it."

I am a slob sometimes. And I am trustworthy sometimes. And in all honesty I am lazy. Sometimes I wonder if I could help it.

One resolution I didn't break was the following: To tell more lies more often. I got quite good at that and it felt good.

I tell you the truth: A liar can't be lazy.

Tantric music for perverts

I've always liked Arvo Pärt, the composer. But the first time I heard the songs 'Spiegel im Spiegel' and 'Für Alina' was when I was watching the film 'Gerry', inspired by a true and tragic, and therefore all the more fascinating, story about two friends who went hiking in the Chihuahuan Desert in New Mexico, got lost and severly dehydrated. In fact, one of them died, killed, allegedly in mercy by his companion Raffi Kodikian.

Of course it is not Arvo Pärt's fault that his masterpieces were used in Gus van Sant's film. Yet I cannot help considering myself a pervert because the music is inevitably an integral part of the story told. I doubt I would have loved the two songs to such an extent if it wasn't for the raw beauty and serene brutality they accompanied.

More about the Kodikian affair

Music for erotic massage recommended by Body Electric School (no electro play you naughty little thing)

The courage to lie

Lying is good.

In Todo sobre mi madre Agrado talks about the plastic surgery procedures she's had: "It cost me a lot to be authentic. But we must not be cheap in regards to the way we look. Because a woman is more authentic the more she looks like what she has dreamed for herself."

Fake boobs? Maybe. But faking and lying is under-rated.

I tell you the truth: Lie, and become the true you.

Plea for a ban on shame

I am too honest. I don't know how to restrict myself. I'm either self-compromising or superficial. I've tried to divide my confessions and admitments into different chapters, tried to categorise myself, but it doesn't work. I should let go. What holds me back? Shame.

Unfiltered

Unfiltered. I write about things I wouldn't like anyone to know. Not anyone. Not my boyfriend. Not a shrink. Not even God if I'd believed in such. Not even me. If people knew -
"Wer einmal lügt, dem glaubt man nicht und wenn er auch die Wahrheit spricht!"
So don't believe me. Please.

Alone

I'm never as alone as when I'm with someone and trying to be honest. And I'm never as alone as when I'm honest with myself. My truths expose the miserable me in a way that is embarrassing to myself even. The lies I can live with. They help me living with others.

Proposal?

If my love is to propose, I'd imagine him doing it during our breakfast. In some ways they're sacred. Not that we do anything special, in fact, most probably they sacred because we don't. We just have tea, bread and spread, newspapers, radio and a begging pet. That's all. And we usually take our time. It would be perfect if he one day simply slipped in: My love, would you like to marry me?

I think it's more likely that he proposes by writing the question on a random place. He does such things. He writes me cute little notes on a sheet of toilet paper and hides it between some magazines, just to check how long it takes before I find it. Or he writes in the layer of dust on our TV, and by that he get to know how blind I am to domestic chores. Sometimes he even picks up a little piece of soap and writes little drawings on our bathroom window. In a way I'm prepared that his proposal, if it ever comes, will mean some humiliation as he'll probably remember forever how long it took me to discover his notice.

Female cheaters

Why is it that I've never spoken personally to any female cheaters, only male?
I've had sex with married men, but I'd hardly say they cheated on their wives.

Even if

Even if I'm with a true prince, I would still like to invite that young musician to our home, I would still write e-mails to the London-based journalist, I would still prefer a rather young and handsome GP, and I still go to the cafes where the handsome waiters are and wonder what it would be like to invite them to my place for some tea after midnight.

Das Tun und Treiben

I spend at least an hour a day gazing my split hair ends.  

Identities revealed

The one I cannot forget is (according to the Nationality Generator) mostly Phoenician, a lot of Chinese, a whole lot of Estonian, along with some Australian.

My imaginary ex-boyfriend is mostly Swedish, a little of Swiss, a little bit of Welsh, a tiny little bit of Norwegian.

The real love of my life is mostly Sanskrit, a lot of Swiss, somewhat Anglo-Saxon, along with some Norwegian.

And "I" am a little bit of Phoenician, some Romanian, somewhat Armenian, along with some Norwegian.

Yeah right.

Just if anyone feels offended.

OKI

Pickton
Kodikian
Priklopil

Deep shallow

The first touch is the deepest. 
The first kiss is the sweetest.
 

Chronic

I can't forget you. Never. And if I could have you, I would probably have taken you. I would, even though you've hurt me so much. I would, even though I'm with someone who's never hurt me and never will. I think I love your flaws. There's much to love.

Lies I live by

I do have an imaginary ex-boyfriend. It took me a while to create him, but as an aspiring writer, it was a great exercise. And I must say, it is very convenient. I have the utmost respect for him, and he certainly enriched my life.

Dreaming of the golden ticket

If I were rich, I would probably have hired my own standby doctor. One who could examine me whenever I felt like, one to provide me some professional loving care. I would have had my own harem actually. Doctors, other therapists, waiters, a driver, musicians. 

Secrets

Does true love mean to relinquish all your secrets? I don't know, but I fear it is so. Not necessarily intended, but in effect. Like two minutes ago, when my prince looked over my shoulder and for sure spotted the name of my blog. I just wanted a space of my own, a place for my darkest secrets, for whatever I dare access through that smokescreen of shame.