filters: redacting our lives


Enhancing or covering up? This question I’ve pondered today as I posted a #BankHolidayBumDay tweet. It’s good that people find their bodies as a vehicle for creative outlet, regaining the feeling of being carefree, less aware of how the world may judge them. However applying filters to pictures, fabricating what people see is pretty much mainstream for most images I see posted online. Why do we do this?

Is it artistic expression or for personal protection? I broadened this thought to include my online anonimity. In any picture of myself that I post, I crop or obfuscate my identity. Although I could give you well rehersed resasons, I still often think about why I do this, who am I trying to protect by the sensorship of my identity. As I write this post, I’m thinking I should expand this defnition of identity to not only my name but to include who I am.

In a recent conversation I admitted that often when discussing currently affair topics or oppinions, I hold back. For some reason after nearly 50 years I am still trying to figure out why it appears that people often take offence to something I might say. If I get a chance to understand what they’re offended by, it’s almost always from a misunderstanding. I had chosen a word or expressed an idea that touched a nerve or personalised the statement to the offended person. Now as a safety mechanism, I often redact my speach.

The image linked to this post is the clearest image posted of me online, but still heavily filtered. I would say to you that the filters enhance the representation of light and the dark in me, a distortion of facial features calling your focus to my eyes and into my soul.


I present to you an acceptably sensored image with my identity suitably redacted.




The many characteristics of ejaculations

After waking with a mind aroused by wonderful thoughts and images, I was particularly turned on this morning.  In a previous post I’ve alluded to the fact that I find arousal somewhat amplified within 16 hours after intensive exercise.

So walking to the shower,  the feeling of DOMS in my legs and desire dripping from my mind, there was likely to be much inspiration forthcoming for a #MastrubationMonday post.

Holding firm, the contraction gripping my entire body, I could feel the sensation of the second contraction as a significant amount of semen was discharged.

The mind is a strange thing, at that point I realised that I’d not read much about the various types of male ejaculations and I wondered if that was a topic someone else might be interested in. Let me set your expectations here, my views that follow are by no means to be used as a standard of empirical evidence. Just observations from and of the peculiarity that is me.

The “typical” porn shot is a good start, it has two to three bursts. In porn I recon these are typically looped together several times for exagerated effect.

Then there’s the type I experienced above, one single significant mass. Often after heightened arousal or a period of abstinence or both.

Next is the “Something about Mary”. This one is unpredictable, usually with much force and a tendency to get lost 😬.  The ejaculate can travel some distance, 40 to 50 centimetres. My theory is that it’s got to do with constricting the flow and releasing at an optimum moment.

The spill, is not a particularly spectacular ejaculation. A gentle stream of semen usually ending up all over the hand, mouth or instrument that stimulated the penis and can be a bit messy. AKA the Mr President.

The final type that I’ll covered in this post , I call the anti-climax. It’s a bit of a mysterious one and not altogether to be seen in a negative light. I describe it as an orgasm contraction with no ejaculate.  In fact it’s a bit of a treasure and I think the one practiced in tantric sex.

Masturbation Monday


In my mind, in my head

“And in my mind, in my head
This is where we all came from
The dreams we have, the love we share
This is what we’re waiting for”

In My Mind – Ivan Gough & Feenixpawl

I am loving the blogging community more and more each day, the thoughts and stories from other writes echo’ing in my mind opening up avenues for personal exploration. Three recent posts have been swirling about in my mind prompting and challenging me.

There are various constraints in my life, both self inflicted and some by circumstance that dictate the path I am on. The forces and desires acting on my mind often in conflict with this path, pulling me in other directions. Many of my posts touch on aspects of this dynamic.

A recent prompt on what we consider as taboo in our lives got me thinking,  melodyinsights set out the steps she has progress though in her personal taboo on sex. For different reasons to Melody, there is little or no sex in my life at present and I also find myself often in the state “Learning to function with high levels of sex chemicals swimming around the body”.

In Floss’s post she talks about floss-with a little f, her submissive/little side. I read this post that floss-with a little f is not only her submissive side, but also has a submissive place in Floss’s life yet needing more.

Then submissy’s post Inside my head, framed thoughts forming in my mind. Here she says, “I escape inside my head all of the time, wasting minutes and hours and days. I say wasted because not all of what is going on in my head is useful, but I retreat there none-the-less.”

These three posts all unique, each very personal the respective authors merge into a single realisation for me, however not very easy to articulate.

My post, “Complication: Is simplification even possible?” I touch on some of the different facets of me. Deep exploration around the mental and physical acts of sex manifests in a suppressed darker kinky side of me, I refer to as my Mr Hyde. Mr Hyde seems to be ressurected by the “sex chemicals swimming around the body”.

Looking back over my life, my Mr Hyde has made an appearance in certain ways and at certain times. I find myself withdrawing into my mind giving Mr Hyde breath to live. Like submissy, the amount of time I allow is not overall healthy. My challenge, my journey, is to “out” my Mr Hyde. To release him not only “in my mind, in my head”.

I do wonder though, by releasing Mr Hyde, whether that might just be the thing that will suffocate him.









As an observer of people, this is often a topic that has passed through my thoughts. Reading through some of the posts on this prompt, as one would expect, most of them immediately focus around kinks on the fringes and beyond of the authors comfort zones.  My thoughts lead me in another direction.

I had an interesting upbringing, morally conservative and evangelic Christian. One outstanding and perhaps different aspect in our household, was that there were no topic of discussion out of bounce. Anything and everything could be discussed;  religion, politics, gender, race, sex, etc.   Of course this was discussed through the lense of the New Testament and against the backdrop of apartheid South Africa.

The conservative nature of my upbringing has left with with a particular trait. I don’t care what you believe in or how you life you life, as long as you don’t judge me for not being “liberal” or for being “old fashioned”.  To accept your opinion, I don’t need to believe in that for myself.

The first frontier of taboo for me was sex , this was something that belonged inside marriage. As far as I can recall, what happened between two consensual people inside the confines of marriage was fair game. There was sadly a dark side to this, anything destructive or abusive between the husband and wife stayed between them and was a taboo in itself to discuss that.

As a youngish teenager I remember a discussion with my parents and  my sister regarding sex. My parents revealed to us that they had sex before they were married and sock horror, my mother saying that my father was her second sexual partner. My father in true character revealed nothing of his past other than confirming what my mother had said.

He did say something to me that made an enormous impression, “Son, you are ready for intercourse with a woman when you are ready to accept the responsibility of being father”. I should add that the overall message I got from my parents was that sex was not sinful, secret or shameful.

For me before we even talk about taboo kinks, as alluded to above, is the boundaries of who I can have  have any kind of sexual activity with and including the concept of monogamy or exclusivity.

From my observations, people who have grown up within defined and rigid constraints, when they step beyond those barriers seem to have no limits. Nothing is taboo. To some degree this is my story.

Now after yearly half a century of life experience and my own personal journey, my boundaries a somewhat different. Casual sex, would probably still be a taboo area for me, but outside of that, there are more possibilities now open to me. Looking back over my life, I would say that there was a suppressed kinky side to me, a side that never got the opportunity for expression. This has changed over the past 10 years, writing and meeting like minded people has expanded my mind. (note: I chose not to say “liberated me”)

To bring a close to this post and end with views on sexual taboos, I would say that I have never really focussed on hard limits. Limits are things that expand/contract, they are fluid as you will read from posts of other contributors to this prompt. As the saying goes, “never say never”.

On reflection I see a difference between unacceptable and taboo. The connotation of taboo to me in this context, is something that is unknown, scary and fearful. As we explore, as we learn, some things are no longer unknown, scary or fearful.

Unacceptable to me is anything that mentally and physically harmful or abusive.

taboo f4tfriday #110 girl with whip in hand

Sunday Devotions

With not much inspiration for this weeks prompt , I was going to give it a skip. Then after after a  twitter exchange with @may_matters , a seed was planted.

Time for meditation and redemption on this Sunday morning, no more guilty pleasures, only pleasures here on forth.


Sinful Sunday