There is a certain kind of man who can use my sexuality against me, leverage like a crowbar to crack me open and leave me empty of anything but a ghost of himself, for a period of time.

It's an addictive sort of interaction, for both of us. My sexuality is composed of many facets (like anyones), but the two strongest facets are need and power. The need of others, fulfilled. And the power of energy coursing under my skin brought to the surface to shine. Few of my own needs are fulfilled by this kind of man. I cum, and often. I crave the pleasure. But that's not what's addictive.
Desire, be it physical or not, and need fulfilled... that's the addictive part. His needs, my ability to fill the cracks.

This man can be faceless, but his needs are always the same. There is a powerful something or someone in his past, that took away his own sense of power and autonomy. There is a latent, burning desire to dominate. A physical craving, unfulfilled, to hold down and take, to cause pain for pleasure, a desperate need to ignore the needs of others and just be selfish. Because in that selfishness, they'll find their autonomy again. They'll regain the power that was taken away from them.

Sadly, they never realize in time that power doesn't come from taking, from being selfish. Power comes from giving, willingly. Because there is ALWAYS more to give. That is power. Limitless supply, from within, of everything you need. It's not all meant to be given away, of course. It's meant to sustain you as well. But with the giving, comes receiving. Always. Even if it's not what you meant to give or receive. When you're open to it, when you're willing to be nourished by the power and pleasure of others, when you're able to draw what you need and be picky about what you receive... It roils and rolls everywhere around you, brought to the surface by sex, cresting like the back of a leviathan breaking the skin of the ocean.

So, in giving them the power they crave, I gain the power I crave. It's a dark, unhinged sort of power when you're feeding from the darkness in others. It has no inherent value judgement that can be applied to it, wrong or right. The addiction of it speaks for itself, I think. Anything that my body starts to crave which it can not supply for itself, I distrust. If I can not supply this darkness for myself, I do not want to need it.

So, eventually, I pick up my toys and I walk away. I find comfort in the ability to walk away, but am saddened by the necessity of it every time. It feels like a lack inside myself, this inability to control the darkness, to direct and change it, so that the interaction could be truly fulfilling for both of us.

My dream, as an adult woman in her prime, is to find another giver and receiver. To find a partner who gains as much from me as I gain from them, so that instead of cresting and sinking back into the darkness, we crest together and ride the wave higher and higher.

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