2007 April 29th Sunday 00:15PDT

filled with a kind of poetry

_ a kind of poetry _

I was so incredibly horny during the wee hours of the morning of Friday April 27th after Tony had gone to sleep in his north room. On the stereo in the east room with its pair of ten-inch Cerwin-Vega speakers i played some old music which i had acquired twelve or thirteen years ago as a DJ at WRUV FM Burlington, the college radio station at the University of Vermont where i had gone to school. These were anthologies compiled by the amazing Caspar Pound (r.i.p.) on Rising High Records: The Secret Life Of Trance 2: The Next Frontier, and Trance Fiction: Fever Pitch At Dawn. I spent quite a while enjoying the shower-shot plumbing fixture in my bathroom, douching until my colon was squeaky clean. I shaved and took a luxurious shower, and i was mentally feeling quite marvelous despite any physical issues of being run-down, bedraggled, and chronically fatigued by eighteen years of AIDS-related problems. I'm no athlete, but in my mind i was so totally in the mood to play at being a 'porn-star' all by myself all night long. Sometimes i just want to go crazy with all my dildos and romp around for hours in my own private world of slippery, silly, ass-tastic goodness. Satisfied with the perfection of my rectal cleansing, i began gently inserting my Purple Silicone dildo (#39) with some Slam Dunk lubricant into my ass. This toy is about the same size as a large penis, and its perfectly smooth surface slides so nicely when coated with Slam Dunk and some drops of water-based K-Y gel. Soon i was making rapid piston motions with the Purple as a few drips of pre-cum began to leak from the tip of my dick.

I was eager to stretch my ass much wider and deeper, so i affixed The Axis (#56) to the tub using its suction-cup base. This dildo is extremely squeezable, and it felt awesome when i squatted down and engulfed most of its length inside myself. Bouncing merrily, i rode on this toy until the music finished in the east room. Then i retrieved my most cherished rubber dong from the toybox: Bam (#4, #4). His suction-cup is also tremendously strong, and i had fun placing him in several positions upright on the bottom of the tub and also hanging from the fiberglass walls of the shower so i could back myself onto him. Using lots of lube and all my willpower, i was able to shove him entirely into my rectum until i was pushing all the way down and my scrotum was rubbing against his. Then i vigorously heaved myself back and forth, relishing the exquisitely mind-blowing sensation of being pounded by my favorite monstrous rubber friend.

I went to the northwest room and put some old sheets and towels over the bed so i would be able to cavort freely without getting any Slam Dunk or semen on the furniture. I queued some music in iTunes for playback on the surround system which has the pair of eight-inch Cerwin Vega SE speakers in front, a pair of KLH six-inch speakers in the rear, and an Advent shielded dual-cone center channel. But before i started the music i thought, "Perhaps i'll do something different from the usual today... maybe i'll toy around with some sensory deprivation instead of sensory stimulation while i get into a good workout with Bam." I turned off all the electronics, and the only illumination came from the soft lava-lamp in the corner, and from the lights on the utility poles on North State Street which shined gently through the angled venetian blinds. I retrieved a large box which contained various gear and set it beside the bed, then made myself comfortable sitting with my back to some old pillows against the wall. I pushed Bam until he was all the way back up into my ass, and positioned his base just in front of my crotch so i could hold it between my legs and prevent him from sliding back out. Then i wiped my greasy hands on some paper towels before handling the equipment in the box.

I own a variety of leather and rubber bondage gear, but sometimes i like to improvise with other makeshift items, especially wide duct-tape. I guess i've always had some kind of sexual pleasure playing with duct-tape-- i wouldn't call it a 'fetish', but certainly an 'enthusiasm'. In the box i found one of my oral bite-guards; these are sold in sporting goods departments to prevent dental injury during athletic activity, and i like to use one to prevent my teeth grinding together while engaged in certain head-binding activities. This black guard is made of a plastic which i had long ago heated then moulded to my teeth, so it fit absolutely perfectly when i slipped it into place.

Next i found an old black rag, a very special handkerchief which had been torn so only about two-thirds remained. It was quite frayed from being used seriously as a gag occasionally these past few years. It was encrusted with my semen and drool which i rarely ever washed out of it, and i felt kind of a thrill as i carefully folded it into the tiniest size possible and shoved this nasty cloth into my mouth between my tongue and the plastic bite-guard along my upper jaw. I felt like a dog gnawing on one of his favorite old bones.

From a container in the box i selected a pair of orange foam ear-plugs, the kind recommended for safety during loud jobs, or to prevent hearing loss when attending a concert. Taking first one and then the other, i pressed and twisted them between my fingers, rolling and squeezing them to make them thin and narrow enough to insert into my ears. After each was stuffed into an ear, they made a strange soft sound which was almost like faint hissing as they returned to their original size and completely plugged up my hearing. My respiration and my heartbeat then seemed amplified inside my own head as i could not really hear anything else. I found this sort of soothing in a way, as my mind started to focus on the simple rhythms, but it was exciting at the same time. I tore a couple large pieces of duct-tape and stuck them momentarily to the edge of the shelf next to the bed. Then i wadded up some cotton balls and pressed them into one ear over the outer tip of the orange foam plug, and quickly covered that ear and the side of my head with some of the tape, pressing carefully to get most of the air pockets out from around the edges of my ear. I repeated this on the other ear, and then all sounds outside of myself were truly eliminated. Fortunately i had recently shaved my head, so my hair was extremely short, barely more than a fine stubble, and would not be caught painfully during the removal of the tape later.

Every so often i kept squirming and shifting as i was seated with Bam deep inside, and sometimes i gripped the very bottom of his base as i flexed my ass-muscles against his length, but i tried not to get lube on my hands because i was working with the duct-tape. With the raunchy handkerchief effectively gagging my mouth and the plugs sealed in my ears, i was ready to proceed with the rest of the taping. Using a super-wide roll of silvery-grey tape which was about eight or nine centimeters across, i began with one large piece over my tightly-closed lips. There would be little or no sound coming out of my mouth now. Then working slowly and deliberately (from years of practise) i wound many longer and longer pieces around my face from front to back, under my jaw and over the top of my head, tightly encasing everywhere except my eyes and nose. I took special care to make sure it was snug under my chin but not too tight against my throat. Duct-tape can be rather loud when it's being peeled and torn from the roll, but by working very slowly i think i was actually rather quiet the whole time. When i was nearly done i felt all over my head, enjoying the way it was completely reduced to a tight shape with most of the features no longer discernible.

Before completing the encasement, i surveyed my surroundings, carefully noting the position of every object as i would have to find all by feel once my sight was removed. I noted the safety shears on the shelf, and the spare safety-shears next to the box nearby. The small sealed brown glass bottle of poppers (isopropyl nitrite?) was on the carpeted floor next to the bed, away from any other objects which could potentially fall on it, but within reach. The pop-top plastic squeeze bottle with water-based lube was on my left, next to the jar of Slam Dunk; but i believed my ass was already quite sufficiently greased-up for playtime, so i didn't think i'd be needing any more of the creamy goodness. One of the rolls of wide duct-tape sat at the corner of the bed. I pulled two more little cotton balls out of the box, and sat there holding them, trying to decide if i was ready.

Listening to nothing but the beating of my own pulse in my ears and my breathing going in and out of my nostrils, i closed my eyes and felt calm as i squeezed my rectum on the delightful Bam impalement. I tore a piece of wide duct-tape off the roll and carefully folded a half-centimeter of one edge over itself so it would become a kind of safety-tag to make it removable afterwards. I tilted my head back and positioned the two cotton balls against my eyes, craning my neck so they wouldn't fall off my face; then i carefully pressed the tape over them, meticulously placing it so it completely sealed them shut, but did not constrict my nostrils at all. The cotton balls would protect my eyelids and eyelashes from painful injury during later removal of the tape. Now my entire head was sealed in a tight deliberate embrace of my own making, with only my nose feeling the cool air of the room as i tried not to become too excited too quickly. The familiar faint smell of the glue which coats the underside of the duct-tape was stirring something in me, and my dick was totally hard.

I've played many variations of this game over the years, but rarely am i able to combine the joys of ass-slamming dildos with the complications of bondage and sensory deprivation. As i sat and breathed and flexed and listened to the sounds of my own insides, i thought, "This isn't really sensory deprivation-- rather, it's alteration, or alternate stimulation. This makes me so fucking horny."

Experimentally i tried to gently grunt or moan, wondering how much sound would be able to escape; but the gag was stuffing my mouth so completely and the tape was so tight, only a very tiny bit of a wheezing noise seemed to make its way out my nostrils. Being unable to verbally make any noise is a turn-on for me. I slowly stroked my hard cock and rubbed my balls, then shifted my position on the bed. Moving away from the wall, i entered a kneeling pose, firmly wedging the base of Bam between my ankles as i sat atop him, pressing my ass-cheeks all the way down so they were against my calves and the dildo was as far in me as it could go.

Raising and lowering myself slowly and rhythmically, i fucked myself with Bam's incredible thick rubber might, while squeezing my scrotum with my left hand and rubbing my penis with my right hand. But i was so horny i was afraid this would make me orgasm too soon, and i wanted to prolong the pleasure forever; so i forced myself to keep removing my hands from my genitals, and instead tried to divert them by gripping the base of the dong or by rubbing them over my skin, tugging at a nipple, stroking my chest, or feeling all over my head which was transformed into a single round taped shape with only my nose protruding.

The exercise of humping up and down on the dildo was causing me to exert myself quite a bit, and i found that my body naturally wanted to breathe faster. But the gag was so vicious, it made ordinary panting impossible, and i began to worry that i would not get enough wind into my lungs, and maybe this was dangerous. The anxiety was slightly exciting in some twisted way. I pressed my index finger up under my nostrils and blocked my breathing for a couple seconds, and this almost made me insane as my dizzy brain spun in the darkness and only the softest moan leaked from somewhere in the back of my throat. "I don't want to cause hyperventilation... i can't hyperventilate like this! I must be careful..." I tried very hard to pace myself, to rock up and down, to lift and lower myself in a steady fashion which was pleasurable but not too strenuous. Willing myself to be calm and collected, i held to a gentle pace as i knelt on the bed and fucked myself in more ways than one.

I could see nothing, and in the blackness my mind began to invent its own hints of hallucinatory squiggles and colored splotches here and there. I could hear only my breath and my heartbeat. I could barely smell the very faint hint of glue which accompanies duct-tape. The taste of the familiar raunchy old rag filled my mouth, and my tongue's muscles had grown very tired as it was pressed so nastily against the gag; this was causing me to start to swallow a little bit more often than i would have liked. I didn't think i would choke, but it was making me a tiny bit nervous because there was a slight bit of a sticky feeling developing somewhere in the back of my mouth, and i knew it could be dangerous to be gagged so thoroughly without the ability to instantly remove a blockage. The danger made my pulse pound. My body was sweating all over, but especially under the layers of tape which so effectively sealed the heat against my head. Perspiration was beginning to leak out of the edges where the tape was open on my nose, and sometimes when i bounced on the dildo i could feel droplets of salty sweat flung from the tip or bridge of my nose.

"I'm a different kind of porn-star," i thought inside my head with a silent laugh, "I don't have nor wish for any audience; i'm just incredibly entertaining to myself!" Bounce bounce bounce bounce....

Something was becoming vaguely difficult during each time i tried to swallow, and i thought maybe the exercise, perspiration, and happily filthy cloth were leading to a dry mouth which could end up being a choking hazard. I decided i would have to soon terminate these activities, but i wanted so badly to remain in this state forever. "Oh well," i thought, "i know how to end this with a bang." I stopped bouncing and settled into a position pressing my weight all the way down on Bam, luxuriating in the incomparable sensation of being stuffed ten inches deep and nearly three inches wide. Then i felt for the roll of duct-tape near the corner of the bed and tore off a long piece, carefully folding up one edge underneath itself as a safety-release. I pressed the other edge against the side of my face near one eye, lining it up oh-so-cautiously, knowing how to get it just right from so much practise in the past. Then i pulled the dangling end of the piece of tape down slightly, curled it back around a bit onto itself and gingerly pressed its corner against my cheek so it wouldn't hang loose and get in the way of my next maneuver.

Blindly feeling over the side of the bed, i found the bottle of poppers on the floor. I sat holding it for a minute, thinking about the danger here: vasodilation could theoretically cause enough swelling of capillaries in my nasal passages to restrict air-flow further. An accidental jostle of the bottle could cause it to contact my skin, and the chemicals are very caustic. What if it irritated my sinuses and my nose began to bleed? Would i be able to get enough air into my throat? Would i drown in my own fluids? I had worried about these things many times, in the past; i had never been seriously injured in these circumstances, but i didn't want that to make me cocky. Just because i'd never been hurt by bad luck before, i shouldn't allow myself to become overconfident, shouldn't take risks without careful consideration of all details. These ideas swam around my head, as they had so many times before. And as always, i decided to go ahead and be a fucking fool anyway. With pleasure.

I carefully unscrewed the plastic cap of the small glass bottle and held it up near my nose. The stink of the vapors suddenly overwhelmed my senses as i slowly inhaled. I held the cap over the mouth of the bottle as i held my breath for a count of ten, then slowly exhaled as i listened to my pulse increase slightly and pound in a terrifyingly loud way in my own ears. I moved the cap and inhaled a second long whiff, then screwed it shut again. Unable to see, working by feel, i carefully returned the bottle to its place somewhere along the side of the bed on the floor (i wouldn't want it to accidentally be shattered if i were to drop something such as the metal scissors or a big dildo, so i tried to make sure it was far out of the way). I was so dizzy, my brain was overwhelmed, and the effects of the poppers were causing capillary dilation which i could feel throughout my body, especially in my rectum. "Relax... relax... relax..." i kept telling myself as i willed my breathing to be deliberately paced. My nostrils seemed clear, i wasn't choking, i could swallow (although i couldn't make more than the tiniest groan in the back of my throat), and it seemed like everything would be okay.

Without even thinking about it, i had begun to hump up and down again. My ass had decided on its own that it needed to get more fucking action from Bam. My lower spine, pelvis, and upper legs were complying, without my conscious intent. My hands were squeezing my scrotum and the base of my cock as i heaved my body up and down a few inches at a time. I didn't want to make my circumcised penis sore from masturbation without lubrication [curses to my parents and the evil society which encourages such barbaric mutilation of children!!] so i felt around blindly on the bed and found the squeeze-bottle of K-Y liquid. I popped the top up and dribbled some onto my crotch, wondering how much i had squeezed out as i felt the cool gel running down my balls, then closed the bottle and put it aside again. Smearing my hands all around in the lube, i realized it must have been quite a few spoonfuls, as my fingers and penis were very wet now.

I rubbed the tips of several fingers of my right hand on the raunchy old sheets, wiping the lube off so i would be able to handle the edge of the tape without making it slippery. I felt along the side of my cheek where the piece of duct-tape had been masterfully positioned, and pulled it outward away from my face so it was attached only by one edge to the spot beside my eye. Then i stretched the wide tape across the bridge of my nose and over to the side of the other eye. The smell of the duct-tape filled my senses and i thought i was almost about to orgasm. Only one tiny gap along the bottom edge of the tape was allowing air in and out of my nostrils.

I exhaled completely, then pressed the tape down, sealing it shut. I tried to inhale, but couldn't draw a breath; the suction simply pulled the tape tighter against my nostrils. This suddenly scared me so much, and i loved it.

I slammed my body up and down on Bam, feeling him driven all the way up inside me so he was beating against some deep spots far into my torso, imagining that he was pounding up beneath my heart as it beat in my chest. I tried desperately to get any air into my nose, but it wasn't happening. The panic made me dizzy and crazy and excited and worried all at once. Frantically heaving my body eight or nine inches upward until only the tip of Bam's head was inside my ass, then suddenly thrusting all the way back down so he was entirely embedded within me, i made him fuck me so hard. Over and over i did this, probably only for twenty or thirty seconds, but time seemed to stretch out wildly.

Involuntarily one hand went to my face and grabbed at the folded edge of the piece of tape. As i peeled it back a tiny bit of air suddenly sucked into one nostril, and immediately everything was okay. "You fucker! You mean nasty godawful fucker! I love it i love it i love it i love it!" my silent delerium in my head was nonsensical as i bounced up and down, and the only noise was the loud wheeze of air going in and out of that nostril. I pushed the edge of the tape back to the other side of my face so it wouldn't dangle freely, paused in my bouncing, and reached over the edge of the bed to find the poppers again.

Ever so carefully, with the most deliberate and well-practised motions, i unscrewed the cap, held the bottle an inch below my nose, and took a deep breath. The acrid vapors made my head pound, and i hoped seriously that i wouldn't have difficulty with swallowing if any phlegm came up. I screwed the bottle shut and put it back, and then felt calmness spreading back over my body as the nitrites coursed through my circulatory system. I gripped the base of Bam with my left hand so he was held firmly against the bed, then maneuvered myself so i could lift one knee and get halfway up with one foot under myself, then lifted the other and put myself into a squatting position. My left elbow was pressed in against my thigh as i gripped Bam and began making hopping motions up and down his entire length.

I thought i might have been running out of breath, but the worry didn't dissuade me from my bouncing. Then a drop of sweat on my nose was accidentally inhaled, and i suddenly had a moment of shear panic as i thought it might induce a cough or retching for which i had no relief. "Oh what a crazy way to die," i thought for a second, "if i should accidentally choke to death while riding my favorite dildo." But after a moment passed and i found i was still able to properly get air in and out of the nostril the dizzy panic subsided slightly. With no conscious effort my body was heaving itself up and down the dildo's shaft, and every slam of Bam felt like it was sending imaginary pulsations of electricity far inside me, tingling something in the center of myself which couldn't be touched directly but could be prodded and coaxed with the right giant dong.

I exhaled completely and pulled the tape back over my nose again, intentionally suffocating as thrilling screams of delight reverberated in my mind but no sounds actually came out. I grabbed my scrotum with my left hand and pulled my balls downward while i rapidly stroked my cock with my right hand. Heaving, humping, pounding, yanking, dancing, ejaculating, everything exploded and my hands became more slippery as jizz flew everywhere, but i couldn't stop. Another couple of bounces up and down Bam's shaft seemed to force more pulses of semen out of myself, and i suddenly thought the strength in my legs would give out; so i pushed all the way downward, reaching maximum impalement, feeling the enormous dildo so far inside myself where it truly belonged. I stopped humping and held still in that position squatting as a tripod, balancing all my weight across my two feet and Bam.

The need to breathe was insane. My frantic fingers grabbed at the tape covering my face, but the slippery ejaculatory fluids made it hard to get a grip on the loose folded edge. I was scared, and some wicked part of my mind enjoyed this. "fucker fucker fucker fucker ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod...." I managed to get a good hold of the corner of the piece of tape between my thumb and index finger and pulled it away from my face, suddenly freeing my nose as a huge gasp of air whooshed into my lungs. Now i wasn't fearing death so much, but things were still kind of frantic and messy. I needed so badly to get this tape off my face, to free my mouth, to let the tired muscles of my throat and tongue escape the pressure to which they were subjected, but there was just no way to instantly do this. With willpower i made myself proceed calmly and methodically, benefitting from countless previous experiences. The piece of tape was sticking to the tips of my fingers so i quickly rolled it into a tiny ball and tossed it aside.

In order to feel less overwhelmed, the next step would be to cease the anal intrusion. Straightening my legs i lifted myself all the way up off Bam and felt him suddenly fall out of my ass. I would have screamed ferociously if it weren't for the gag blocking my throat. Oh god, how i love what he does to me.

With the dildo out of my asshole, the level of insanity was immediately reduced by a major notch. I sat back against the pillows and wiped my hands against the old sheets so my fingers would be less slippery. Then i found the folded edge of the piece of tape covering my eyes and pulled it out delicately away from my forehead. I didn't want to rush that move, because i was wary of any harm to my eyelids. Fortunately the cotton balls did protect them, and my eyelashes did not stick to the tape. Now i could see and i blinked repeatedly, squinting as the room which had previously appeared so dim was now dazzlingly bright because my pupils were so dilated. Perspiration (and possibly some glue from underneath the tape) stung the corners of my eyes slightly. The cotton balls stuck to the piece of tape, which stuck to my fingers, and i quickly wadded it up and tossed it aside. I found the safety shears closest to me, and very cautiously held them near my face. "Don't poke out an eyeball, dumbass," i thought to myself. The round blunt tip of one blade was easy to insert behind the edge of the tape beneath the edge of my left nostril, and this gave me a starting point. Very very slowly i began cutting at an angle, working my way down across my cheek toward my jaw.

Although our apartment is always warm the air felt cool as it touched the exposed part of my sweaty face on my cheek and below my eye. I was careful as i cut away at the tape under my jaw, making sure i didn't pinch the blades against my skin. When i finally reached the edge of the tape along the side of my neck i was able to grab the whole section with one hand and pull it away from my face. It stung a little, and my lips were slightly sore. Now that i could get them apart, i was finally able to push the gag back out of my mouth. The plastic mouth-guard and the wadded-up piece of cloth fell out all stuck together in one piece; the pressure of my tongue and teeth had moulded the folded handkerchief so it was stuck into position along the curve of the plastic. Drooling and gasping, i relished the freedom to breathe unhindered again. "You're a crazy fucker," i laughed to myself silently.

Now i had to cut carefully with the shears upward through the tape going from my temple up over the top of my head, until i had peeled it away enough to grab hold and pull it back using a great deal of strength. Because my hair was short this was not nearly as painful as during some of my earlier experiences (and thus i am motivated to keep my hair shorn quite short all the time), but it did hurt a bit when i was trying to pull off the bits over my ears. When i finally got the entire wrapping removed from my skull it was wet with my perspiration, and stiffly held its shape. The bunches of cotton were still stuck in their positions where they'd been at my ears, and i held the whole head-shaped construction out in front of me. The gash where the scissors had rent it from nose to neck caused it to lose some of its original form, and i pressed the ripped edges back against each other. Now i could see the basic shape of my skull, with only an opening where my eyes and nose had been. This always amuses me, and i giggled to myself. After resting another minute, catching my breath and feeling my pulse returning to normal, i squished up all this tape, folding it in on itself over and over until it was finally a lump not much larger than my hand. It smelled of my sweat, and i threw it in the rubbish along with the two other little pieces of tape ("my potential killers" as i like to think of them and the handkerchief). I tugged at the foam earplugs until they came out of my ears, and tossed them into the trash.

Stretching my limbs and gradually relaxing, i began to tidy up the play-space. I used some paper towels to wipe off my arms, crotch, thighs, and ass-crack. I put things back in the box and stored it away in the east room, then put my three used dildos in the kitchen sink which i began filling with warm soapy water. I scrubbed them lovingly with a sponge and some Ultra-Dawn detergent, then rinsed them thoroughly and left them on the shelf beside the window to dry. Then i did something which i never used to do when i was in my twenties, but which i frequently do nowadays: i took a nap.

When i was younger, during the 1990s, i used to be able to play all night long, sometimes carousing for an entire weekend with friends, cavorting and dancing, and spending time with some rather talented guys who were also into fisting, big dildos, and sling-parties with all sorts of kinky sex. But after so many years with HIV i began to slow down, and by the turn of the millennium my behavior had become different. Now i don't go out much any more; and when i do have my playtime at home, i find i need tremendous amounts of rest in order to compensate for any exertion. But that's okay-- i'm happy, and i do what i like, so i'm not complaining. Now that i'm almost thirty-seven i find that i like to be alone most of the time anyway; or i like to spend some time with Tony, too, but i'm definitely not gregarious like i used to be.

My nap was brief, and i soon awoke in a mood which was still very horny. There was probably a lot of THC in my system, and i felt kind of high as i steeped a cup of tea and turned the electronics back on. I put a couple spoonfuls of honey into my mug of hot jasmine-blossom green tea, and sipped carefully as the music began to play. Reich Remixed is a wonderful collection of various songs by Steve Reich which had been redesigned by many artists whom i admire. I put the Purple Silicone and the Axis back into the toybox, but i took Bam to the bed with me and began stuffing some Slam Dunk back into my insatiable ass.

I have a big wooden plank which is smooth and coated with latex paint on one side. I wedged this board between the bed and the wall. This gives me a great place to stick Bam using his strong suction-cup, so i can position him about ten or twelve inches above the mattress, and back myself up to him on my hands and knees. Then i reach behind myself and guide him into my tight hungry butt until he's stuffing me marvelously. His suction-cup keeps him stuck in whichever spot i choose on the plank, so i'm able to yank my body back and forth as he fucks me deeply. Inspired by good music and a good mood, motivated by THC and caffeine, and generally just in love with my awesome toyfriend the one-and-only Mister Bam Fantastic, the time flew by as i sexercised merrily. The Tranquility Bass Megamix was swirling magically from the loudspeakers surrounding the room as i flung myself along the length of the dildo and hugged some old pillows under my stomach for support in that position. As the vocal samples repeatedly sang, "Come out to show them... come out to show them... come out to show them..." i was rubbing my dick and riding my dildo, and i erupted into my second orgasm of the morning as the first glimmers of dawn were beginning to illuminate the room.

I caught my breath and rearranged the pillows so i could lie back comfortably, and i pressed Bam up between my legs again. Despite having fucked myself so vigorously, i still needed more more more. Sometimes i just have one of those days when there's no such thing as 'enough'. So i managed to stuff about seven or eight inches of Bam back up into my rectum, and fell asleep again in that position before the Reich Remixed was done playing.

This nap was very brief, probably because of the monster dong up my ass, and because the daylight coming through the northwest window was growing brighter. When i awoke and removed the dildo from my butt i went to the toilet and urinated what seemed like a river. Then i took my usual prescription medications with a drink of sugar-free soda pop and went back to the play-space. The next musical treat which i wished to hear was the Fish Dances disc of remixes by my favorite ambient sound diabolist, the Irresistible Force (MixMaster Morris). This is one of many audio masterpieces which i own that have been mastered and engineered with the assistance of Jon Voda, such as Mr. Brubaker's Strawberry Alarm Clock by Neotropic, Let Us Replay! by Coldcut, James Hardway's Easy Is A Four Letter Word, Carpal Tunnel Syndrome by Kid Koala, and Musipal and Sorry I Make You Lush by WagonChrist. As i began fucking myself with Bam once again, i listened to the beautifully trippy tunes which filled the room with happiness. When Playing Around With Sound (Remix By Voda) twirled and twinkled through my daydreams i found myself laughing and singing out loud. Pumping the giant rubber toy in and out of my ass, rubbing my penis and scrotum, sweating and bouncing and dancing to my favorite tunes, i was so happy i began to cry. The song goes like this:

"...putting all these sounds together, aren't you afraid that you're going to get white noise? And I said, 'I'm sure it will be noise, but I doubt whether it will be white!'"

Voltage control lets electronic composers produce many new and interesting musical events... unobtainable at classical studios. In fact with suitable control devices virtually any sound can be produced.
be produced... be produced... be produced...

"There are so many sounds in the world. The more you play with sound, the better you can hear a lot of different ones around you!"

make a sound/ ears open/ make a sound/
strange/ music/ strange/ sound/ strange/ noise/
distinguish between/ fingers/ ears/ some people/

"I haven't meant to make things strange.
I have wanted to hear things that I haven't heard before."

There are so many sounds in the world.
Maybe you can guess what this sound is...

"I don't distinguish between music and... um... noise.
I'm interested in all sounds.
I haven't heard any yet that I don't enjoy.
Some people have often put their fingers in their ears
but I leave my ears open
but I leave my ears open
but I leave my ears open."

Could you make a sound like that?

"That's also music... a kind of music..."

I don't distinguish/ I haven't heard any/ music/
some/ distinguish/ music/ fingers in their
haven't heard any/ sound/ journey/ some people put their fingers
I haven't meant to/ some people/ music/ enjoy/ distinguish
I haven't/ enjoy/ haven't/ some people/ often

I'm interested in all sounds.
I haven't heard any yet that I don't enjoy.

Noise

Artists talk a lot...

i haven't/ yet/ enjoy/ heard any/
strange/ talk a lot/ music/ noise

I don't distinguish between... um...
music and noise.

I'm interested in all sounds.
I haven't heard any yet that I don't enjoy.

I haven't meant to make things strange.
I have wanted to hear things that I haven't heard before.

Music... and noise...
don't distinguish...

Artists talk a lot...
about freedom!

I often think
Music... and noise...

I haven't meant to make things strange.
I have wanted to hear things that I haven't heard before.

Some people put their fingers in their ears.

I don't distinguish between music and noise.
I'm interested in all sounds.
I haven't heard any yet that I don't enjoy.
I don't distinguish between... um... music and noise.
I'm interested in all sounds.
I haven't heard any yet that I don't enjoy.
um... music and noise...
I'm interested in all sounds.
I'm interested in all sounds.
I'm interested in all sounds.

I haven't/ between/ um.../

... music ...

MixMaster Morris is a genius, and the music of The Irresistible Force is beautiful. Bam is a toy which i find irresistible, and i was compelled to thrash about the bed in a jolly fashion, stuffing him up my ass and playing with myself until i had my third orgasm of the morning ("strange... freedom!"). Slightly stunned and rather exhausted, i lied around for a few minutes listening to the rest of the remixes of Fish Dances. Then i washed the grease off Bam again and put him back on the shelf. From the toybox i retrieved the little Curly~Q (#28) which is a buttplug specially shaped to nestle inside a man's anatomy. I lied back down against the pillows, stuck the Q into its proper spot in my anus, pulled an old sheet up over myself, and took another nap.

This rest was very brief, and i awoke less than an hour later with a big erection, probably caused by the exquisite stimulation of the hard little toy against my prostate which i removed when i stood up. Lust ruled my mind. "I just can't get enough of you, my dear Bam," i thought to myself as i picked him up off the shelf and sat back on the bed. A gob of Slam Dunk and a few dribbles of K-Y facilitated Bam's insertion back into the place where he absolutely is supposed to be. "Oh yeah, that's right. That's so right. That's exactly the right way for everything to go." The muscles in my legs, arms, and shoulders and lower back were all very tired, but i just could not resist the desire to begin bouncing and flouncing around yet again. Bam has some magical power over me, some strange provocation, instigation of a compulsion which i love dearly. On the stereo i listened to the disc Radical Beauty mixed by Nick Philip. This is a wonderful compilation of spacious trippy audio, and it was the perfect accompaniment to my sexercises. In the middle of this musical journey was a track by MixMaster Morris, "Hall Of Mirrors", which bounced and reverberated around and around, playfully lifting my spirits ever higher.

Outside the window, in the soft morning light which was muted by the misty rainshowers flowing off the bay, i saw the breeze tossing pink petals up and down the street. These petals fell from two of the trees in Mrs Haskell's lovely garden across the street, fifty or sixty feet below the window. They had been blossoming for a couple weeks and were now well past their peak, and the precipitation which blew in from the sea was throwing some of the little tattered pink blooms through the air, washing them across the pavement and down the hill, leaving them scattered over the sidewalks and the grass.

The song Hall Of Mirrors has no words, no vocal samples, but in my dreams it is filled with a kind of poetry. There are rhymes and rhythms, consonants which stutter and flutter, vowels which cheer and sigh, notions who tumble and dance in imaginary planes of moonbows and starshine. Waterfalls sparkle and dribble, verses ramble and rumble, and i hear impish giggles with my inner ears. I pranced, entranced, slamming and Bamming, laughing and wishing that such happiness could be eternal. Sounds and grunts came from me as i flailed on my dildo; ticklish amusement jingled and bobbled as i traipsed up and down the rubber elevator of love. Outside the window the pink flowers floated on gusts of rain; inside the room i rolled across the bed with my great dildo jammed up my ass. All was good, all was right, and to my surprise i orgasmed a fourth time Friday morning.

Exhausted muscles were responding ever more slowly as i picked myself back up and tidied the play-space, washed Bam yet again, and put everything away. I felt that i had pushed myself beyond my usual physical limitations, but i hadn't hurt anything, so this was okay. The backs of my knees were a tiny bit sore after all that squatting and bouncing, and the region of my back near the end of my spine felt like it had strained quite a bit. Somehow my ass never seems to get sore, however, no matter how much i pound it with my toys. I guess i've always taken care to practise doing what feels like just the right amount of stretching and shoving, and i felt so happy with my body. Instead of rebuking my physical self for the decrepitude which has encroached over nearly eighteen years with HIV, i praised my body for giving me so much on this day. When i went back to bed one more time the song Hedge by Jonah Sharp was playing on the stereo, and i looked out the window as a large truck drove down the street; its side was painted with a logo which read "Sound Recycling Services". Obviously it belonged to a company here in the Puget Sound which was in some kind of waste-recycling business; but i thought it was a rather funny ambiguity as i rested my head against the pillow and pulled an old sheet over myself again. I was asleep a few minutes later, and slumbered until the middle of the day.

In the early afternoon Tony brewed a delicious pot of arabica coffee. I stripped the old jizz-coated sheets off the bed and put nice fresh clean ones on it. Then i took a shower; i could barely feel some tacky remnant of the glue from the duct-tape in places on my hair and the back of my neck, but with shampoo and scrubbing it was soon all washed away from my scalp. I shaved, brushed my teeth, and put on some clean clothes. I borrowed Tony's old truck and drove over to Sunset Square to my favorite Szechuan restaurant, Panda Palace. I brought home some pork Lo Mein noodles with vegetables and a rich brown sauce, Mongolian beef seared to perfection with green onions and peppers atop fried rice, egg drop soup with bits of tomato, and a great Puu Puu Platter for the two of us which had fried chicken, spare ribs, beef skewers, and crab puff Rangoon with cabbage. Tony and i spent the early evening lying around in front of the television, and we listened to a couple albums by Waterjuice. My fortune cookie said, "Now is the time to try something new."

As we were cuddling on the bed i found i was horny again. I masturbated for a couple minutes, and had my fifth orgasm of the day. I was only able to ejaculate a few small drops of semen because i seemed to have exhausted my supply; but it felt wonderful. I thought it had already been a remarkably fantastic day, but was happy to find there was no end to the surprisingly good feelings.