Like other elements of life, I’ve always sat with myself and questioned whether the whimsical and meaningless concepts of pleasures depicted on screen were the finality? And each time this question surfaced, my mind, it’s imagination and an urge to express my sexuality stood defiantly against set notions. While I am sure of my heterosexuality, I find nothing to be ordinary of my notion of pleasure.
Somehow, pleasure for me atleast, starts long before a layer of clothing is shed or a hand is held or infact a kiss is placed. For me it is deep rooted in imagination. The only way I can explain how it feels is like sinking in an ocean but you do not choke, instead under the deep blue lies a blank canvas that my mind aches to paint with a woman and the sheer amount of unfiltered pleasure that runs in the distance between me and her. She could be hung from the ocean surface miles away from me and I’d be able to feel the wine in her veins and how its fermenting in mine as if attraction was never a consequence, instead a start or perhaps a catalyst to greater experiences.