The True Cardiac Fantasy

     Just recovering from a week with the Cardiac Clan.  Go see Roadchick’s entry “You Can Get Anything You Want”  for a typical excerpt of my week of “vacation” with 18 people in a 3-1/2 bedroom house. She describes the basic situation in a far more light hearted and detailed manner than I could ever relate right now, this being far too close to recent events in question to revisit the subject without the occasional thought of choking a clan member or two out with bare hands and repeated head butts to said faces.   So this post may be short and sweet.

     I’ve basically come to the conclusion that I’m almost 100% without boundaries with regards to sexual fantasies, and to some extent, the various acts and facets of sex, itself.  There just isn’t too much off limits to what will arouse me, to what I will fantasize about, and what I would be willing to do in a world without Sigo’s.  No, don’t go calling 911 yet.  The ultimately Taboo acts, at least legally taboo, are not on my things to turn from fantasy into reality list.  Just like a person who can imagine, in detail, the killing of another human being, the thought doesn’t make them a murderer, despite some of the more imaginative near future movie concepts we’ve seen in the past few years.  So mentally, I’m a sex freak.  I’ve boasted of it on numerous occasions in a light hearted manner, but what it comes down to is that I’m it, and I am starting to accept that fact for real.  Being a bit of a pervert is essentially normal, these days.  The Sex Morality Code of our Society has become wider in terms of allowable activities, much more so than it used to be.  But I am a full blown freak.  I have truly entered the shadow world, and I’m living in it now.  At close to double the drinking age, my sex drive would still function at once if not twice a day.  No, no boasting.  Just the facts, ma’am.  I’ve taken steps in the last week to go into the BDSM and Dungeon accessories business, leather wise.  Flogs, handcuffs, only the best leather and workmanship. I’m now apprenticed to a master of the trade, and of the shadow world itself.  I’ve gotten the nips pierced in the last two years, got brand new tribal armband tats on both arms in the past week, and am looking to do some more along those lines in the near future.  Giving into it all has been . . .  a release.  Like reborn at 40.  Its weird, its wild, its different, and now I have a blog to describe the slow spiral into the shadow world for all the spectators who want to watch the dive vicariously.  I’d say I was going through a midlife crisis, but it wouldn’t be true.  I’m just tired of pretending to be someone I’m not.  So who’s the freak?

 

Michael