Weird Encounter

I remember a good old tussle I had with a woman in an erotic psychic realm some years back. It took place within the repetitive footage of a pornographic DVD. We were fighting over my ejaculate. She said she was my dead mother who I had Oedipus complex over, and had made the tape to enslave my love over eternity before committing suicide. It was all a weird experience. I didn’t know what was going on. The ‘star’ kept talking to me as if it were Facebook live, giving me instructions on which part of her body to look at. She insisted on maintaining eye contact a lot. Whenever I did so I felt myself growing more and more excited, and she knew this. She looked nothing like my mother, but because of the drugs I was on, and the state I was in, I kind of half-believed everything she was saying. She was high as a kite herself, rambling on about reincarnation and shape-shifting and intimate ideologies from the womb.

I felt very drawn into something occultish and supernatural. I only hasten to mention this because I feel like I have just met her again at an AA meeting, in a different person. How can porn stars be family members from different timelines reappearing in various embodiments, you ask? Dunno the answer to that one is my best guess.

I was unable to stop what I was doing because I was ‘off my chops’ and deeply involved within the sensuality of the woman. It was a terrifically strong-contented DVD, not extreme or deviant but better than what I was used to, so my socks were sort of blown away a bit by the novelty of it, and especially with the pseudo-motherly connexion. I couldn’t quite seem to wrench my eyes away from the screen, even though what the so-called ‘actress’ was saying was hurtful and shocking. She was opening up holes of disbelief and numbness all over me. This footage had planted a portal in my head and swept me to a different dominion. She was screaming for my ejaculate.

This woman in the meeting earlier wasn’t exactly doing that, but she looked super sexy like that broad in the video. I was peering at her from the corner of my eye and in the sunlight-affected periphery she could have passed for any glamorous star of the silver screen on Earth. I wouldn’t fancy another tussle with her. That’s why I gave up the porn, and hopefully will never return to it. It’s because of my conditioning since being a young boy: The women are too hot to handle. Especially when they usurp the powerful bonding of a parental influence. Their sexual advantage over a young passionate gentleman can be vastly unfair. And vice versa, I imagine. I can only speak from experience.

It was all a mad melee of sex, drugs and schizo stuff gone awry. Now, before dipping into the pleasure dome, I have to check that my sanity will still remain intact before arising back out from it. Odds are it won’t, and I’ll be a depressed nervous wreck. The good old days were decent, I could spend all weekend steeped in debauchery and exit the other side with nothing more than a wee dose of insomnia, fixable with a handful of sleepers from an under the counter chemist. Now, jeez, I’m running round the woods half-naked, chased by terrorists and spies. It’s always about this time when the doctor shows up with his pink Section papers.