“You think it’s not magic that keeps you alive?
Just because you understand the mechanics of how something works doesn’t make it any less of a miracle, which is just another word for magic.
We are all kept alive by magic, mine just happens to be different from yours.” ~True Blood
The above statement is mostly true.
Some people have so little magic in them it creates a black hole from the void of it and it sucks the light out of the rest of us.
Some have dark magic, some light with 50 shades of grey in between.
I have said it before and I will say it again. People ought to come with warning labels.
I am thinking of one specifically right now. I call it…
“She/he won’t go down now.” *
My poor baby Scorpios aren’t getting head. My older one wouldn’t give it.
Hardly seems fair considering.
I remember the first time I won the Cougar Olympics.
The house was clean, I was clean.
He had my address. Music was playing, whiskey was poured, beer in the fridge and I was making tacos with butterflies in my belly.
He knocked and the dogs barked, I opened the door and the butterflies went insane.
We were both nervous, you could feel it crackling in the air like lightning about to strike.
I looked at him across the kitchen island, knife in hand chopping something or other…took a big ‘ole swallow of whiskey and said “Do you want to just fuck before dinner so we can stop feeling so twitchy?”
He just about choked on his beer but he managed to utter a gruff ‘yes’.
Whenever I sleep with someone new there is always that (hopefully) grace(ful) period where you figure each other out. Easiest way, in my humble yet slutty opinion is to give them head and assess what they like. Like reading braille, with your tongue I guess.
So I did that.
When it was time, he reciprocated. He had previously mentioned that he was ‘pretty good at it’. I smirked, inwardly and just thought “ya, ya…sure young un’. Show me what you got.”
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAnd my head exploded.
I am sometimes blissfully wrong.
I asked him after, mouth still slightly agape and ‘gina still more than slightly tingling “How did you get so good at that?”
“I wanted to be good at it so I read about it.”
Never underestimate the power of a sexually determined Scorpio.
Another Scorpio from waaaaaay back when refused to go down on me because the girl before me ‘tasted gross’. But I don’t taste gross…fucking Scorpios and their baggage.
Two sides to every coin.
Ima digress and wander out of the past now, into the recent past.
Had lunch with yet another Scorpio young un’. He can’t seem to get head either even though he LOVES going down. He asked me how to ask for it.
I sat across from him and tried to recall ever having to be asked and truth be told, I never have. It’s just what I do. I like doing it, sometimes I love doing it.
So I put up a poll on Facebook. There was no clear answer other than ‘don’t beg’, and ‘do the dishes’.
Which leads credence to my earlier and repeatedly repeated theory.
We cannot and should not fuck outside of our kind.
This is now my divine law and I have followers. I need to make t-shirts and write it in the sky.
There is a spark that exists inside of some of us. If we open ourselves up sexually to ‘the others’ (aka the spark-less) ours dims.
If they are the void kind of humanoid we can literally get sick from it, sad, lost and weakened. They steal our light.
The equal and opposite is therefore true, if you can find someone whose fire and lightning feeds your own that is how stars are born.
*From an Absolutely Fabulous episode that is burned into my brain.