2.6.2001
My Ferry Building fantasy is getting more and more potent.
I want it.
Is it strange that buildings make me horny?


posted by Dopamine Junkie at 8:16 AM


Beautiful day outside yesterday wasn't it?
I went outside for a few moments.
And yes, I had a cigarette.

Stared at the Ferry Building.
Watched the passerby.

Had to close my eyes to contain the maelstrom.
I feel like the protagonist of an endless, wordless
black and white french film.

The kind where a woman is driven mad by her own desire.
I wondered, that suited man over there, talking on his cell phone and smoking a
cigarette, what would he think if I approached him to say,

Excuse me sir, how would you react if I told you that I've been sitting here for the past
10 minutes,
fantasizing about stripping you down, tying you to a chair, and making you my sex
slave for about an hour?
You wouldn't have to do anything. I'd just like to commandeer the use of your body.
If you're interested, we can go and find a place to do this right now, or I'll have my
assistant call you and we can schedule a time that works for us both?
I can guarantee that I fuck like a bunny!
I assure you we could walk away from this totally anonymous and unscathed.
What do you say?

I think he would look at me, dressed down and kind of nondescript, wearing a beanie
and braids,
and say, umm..that sounds intriguing ma'am, but no thank you.

These were my thoughts as I smoked, my face turned towards the sun and my eyes
closed.
A heavy sigh, then I stared at the ground some more, glanced at the clock, and headed
back inside.

Today is a new day, yes? Another day of wanting.
posted by Dopamine Junkie at 8:04 AM


2.5.2001
I was just thinking that it would be pretty cool if someone would invent glasses or
goggles you could wear out and they would expose the erogenous zones of everyone
you met in uv or infra red.

Yeah I got some this weekend. A few times actually.
But I didn't get served.
My head's all clouded up now.
And there's a disconnect.
Because it's not him I want because I want something else, something he can't give
me.
I built this box, this cage for myself, papered with desires.
Now I have no way out?

posted by Dopamine Junkie at 9:46 AM


Oh and by the way, if anyone is interested, you can always view this page securely [
and no I do not work for them, but I do use their services ], by going to Safeweb.com.
posted by Dopamine Junkie at 9:29 AM


I feel as if I have painted myself into a corner.

A daily dose of the purging of my desire by writing is something I can reasonably walk
away from, return to my "normal" self, and my placid relationship.

Confronting the reality and the power of those desires is not something I can easily
and neatly put away.

It's strange for me to tell, but I have to write it out. I apologize if this is not the
lascivious account of my Friday night with the girls. But once again, this is my
confessional, where even though this is a secret life, I am still real.
Veil Up or Veil Down.

God, why why why did I have to read all the Anais Nin diaries? Why did I study
Nietzsche and read Joseph Campbell and Hermann Hesse? Why did I have to be
awakened?

If you have been reading this from the start, please fasten your seatbelts. We're
headed for a downward descent. Spiralling.

I understand what it is to be empowered by sexual energy.
I know what I would do in reality, and what will always be an unrealized fantasy.
I know that sex isn't everything.
It's not about bodies or equipment.
For me, when my mind is alive my body is alive.
Trying to find the proper hole in which to mindfuck somebody is as exciting, and more
challenging, than just hooking up.
Find my twist and wring it out till my eyes roll back in my head.

But I'm feeling locked in, locked up, locked down.
And something dark is brewing.

This weekend I pushed myself out a little further. Gave myself a little more of what I
really want. Freedom to explore.
This weekend I had my hands on skin that was so responsive, so heated and alive I
was afraid of my own desire.
Lust hit me so hard I salivated the whole weekend. Salivated, lubricated, everywhere.

Most women are afraid of what a strange man might do to them if they got into his car.
I am afraid of what I might do to that man if I got in the car and drove away with him.

Today I am here, trying to begin another week. Totally distracted by images of tongues
and fingers and skin.


posted by Dopamine Junkie at 9:18 AM


2.2.2001
Theme Songs to get me through my day and get me ready for tonight:
(this is not representative of my holistic musical tastes)

Next - Too Close.
Why?

"All the songs on you requested, you're dancing like you're naked, oh it's almost like
we're sexin. . ."
"Girl I know you felt it, boo you know I can't help it. You're makin it hard for me. . . "

Montell Jordan - Get it On Tonight

Digital Underground - Freaks of the Industry

Why? Oh there are so many reasons.

"So you're freakin' [freakin'], the furniture's squeakin' [squeakin']
She's tweakin', sayin' that she's weak in the knees.
Cheek to cheek, and pound for pound,
You're taxin' it and waxin' it and workin' it around,
'Til the booty starts makin' that clappin' sound"

" . . My head under her leg under my arm under her toe. "
" . . I hit it and split it, lick it and quit it. "

YESSSSSSS. I am very excited for this evening I must say.
posted by Dopamine Junkie at 12:09 PM


Here comes the weekend!
Tonight I will be in the City, dancing, on ecstasy.
Dangerous Dangerous Danger Girl.
The bloodlust is making my mouth water.
I'm out on the prowl tonight.
Looking for some fun.
Getting my dance on.
Trying to sweat it all off.
Breathing life.
Unleashing myself on hapless passerby.
Feeling predatory.

posted by Dopamine Junkie at 11:04 AM


Tonight I have written about sex, talked about sex, read about sex and watched porn.

Did I have sex?

No.

Tonight I'm a little crude. Must be the porn. Just watching it makes me need a tongue
in my honeypot and a hard dick working me out. No talking. No fantasies. Just raw
pounding.

Must be the porn.

I took a long hot shower. My skin is clean and pink.
And I just want to back my ass up onto something.

No gothic or cosmic tones tonight. No philosophical ramblings of longing.

I need someone to break me off, work me out, tap my ass.
Someone who can sit still while I get buckwild in a hot tub.
Or pull over to the side of the road, lean me over the hood of the car, and pump and
plow me until we both explode.

is that asking too much? i mean, really?
is that demanding or needy?

[ back after a brief interval, pressure relieved ]

Ahhh. Masturbation is efficient, but only to stave off the hunger for the real thing.

The backs of my knees have filed an official complaint. Neglect.
The undersides of my breasts, as well as my shoulders, have joined in to make it a
class action suit.

I am surfacing to the night, something I can't do as often as I'd like. With some yummy
girlfriends.
We'll travel as a prickteasing entourage, make a spectacle of ourselves.

I remember the feeling of a slim thigh slipped between my own, pressed against my
kitty, letting me ride it a little. Knowing the right spots, the pressure. Leaving a wet
spot.

I need a sleepy fuck to send me into a blissful sleep, rocking me gently, long strokes,
deepest impalings.
A cock to stay nestled in the crack of my ass all throughout the night, occasionally
slipping inside me while we sleep, so we are fucking half-awake, half-asleep.

I need a tongue to slip into my mouth, for me to suck gently on.
I need the rasp of a tongue around my nipples, which we will both observe hardening.

Uhn. Now I need to take care of something again before I go to sleep. And then maybe
eat a cookie or some ice cream. Or maybe a slice of processed cheese. Mmm. Cheese
slices.

posted by Dopamine Junkie at 9:17 AM


2.1.2001
Dinner with an old lover last night.
It's been years.

We chitchatted, caught up, etc.

I remember his cock.
So vividly.
How it felt, it's shape, the head so bulbous it really got in there.
I used to love to sit on him to feel his full length stuffed inside me.
He used to work me out, all the nooks and crannies.

And what a tit man he was.
Always fixated on my tits.
Could play with them for hours.

And the stud in his tongue would drive me mad as it flayed my clit.

I was sure my eyes were turning black as we talked over dinner, watching him try to
keep the telepathy from reaching him. throwing up a firewall.

How's work? How's life? How's everything else?

I remember his smile as I would grind him. Or the way he loved to take me while I was
facedown and bite into my shoulder.

Work is hectic. I'm stressed out a lot. Yeah, me too.

The veil drops so that the friendship can continue.
Necessary. Boring. Safe.

Father forgive me for I have sinned.
It's been a lifetime since my last confession.
Because I'm not Catholic and I never was.

But I've been having impure thoughts again, about having
relations out of wedlock, relations with someone other than the
person I am already having relations out of wedlock with.

Punish me. Give me a penance.
Soothe me. Satisfy me.
Kiss it and make it better.

Switch Switch Switch
Today I need to be Petulant.
Penitent.
Daddy's Girl.
posted by Dopamine Junkie at 9:21 AM