A Matter of Degree

by Daddy X

Cravings aren’t necessarily bad things, not as far as ‘things’ go. Cravings keep us alive and vertical. We crave food. We crave liquid. Our bodies need protective warmth from the cold and to be cooled in the heat of summer. There’s a human need to alter our consciousness in some way to experience alternative perspectives. We crave physical contact, the love of others, and the wherewithal to communicate our feelings to someone special. All necessary, important elements of survival that speak to our quality of life. But which other manifestations of craving prey upon us when taken to their next logical (or illogical) steps?

Habits can go both good and/or bad. Although some of us do well on a random schedule, I’d venture to say we all work, to some extent, on a habitual basis. It’s not unusual to wake at virtually the same hour every day, or to eat the same breakfast for months or years on end. That’s not going to be a problem unless you’re in the habit of scarfing down a dozen glazed jelly doughnuts on any given morning.

I like to equate the habit phenomenon with inertia. At best, it can act as a working tool, enabling us to organize our lives into a seemingly linear trajectory. Habit can and does prepare us for the more random ways life seems to line up, often like an Escher landscape, in this day-to-day world. I don’t really know if today’s lives are more complicated, when compared to our early primate ancestors who had to feed, clothe and shelter themselves on a daily basis, using their wits to deal with not only the elements, but with their own kind as well.

At their extremes, habits can generate obsessive-compulsive behavior, clan and religious hatreds. Bad actions with no excuse, only that those others are other than us. People kill simply because their great-great grandfathers hated each other. For the same reasons over centuries. What were those original reasons? Not everyone can trace hatreds like the Sunni/Shiite split back in the seventh century.  Whatever it is, it’s all realized within a habit of a sort. “We kill because they killed before us.” That seems to be a good enough excuse. WTF???

 Obsessions are destructive to our well being. Sure, we like to write of the heroine ‘obsessed’ with her lover. But in real life, obsessives and their habits can make for the worst pairings possible. How many times have you known a couple, people delightful to be with without the other party present? Individually, they can be perfectly well suited to conversations, other friends, and their general demeanor pleasant and appropriate. Then when the couple is encountered together, they’re completely different, noxious in fact. At each other’s throats, one or the other totally repressed, withdrawn, uncomfortable, toxic to each other as well as to the greater group. When combined with the enabling old ‘habit’ thing, couples can go on like that for years.

How often do we see the saga of  ‘bad boy meets good girl’. I don’t mean in books or movies, but in real life. There’s that phenomenon that makes someone think they can ‘change’ someone they’re infatuated with. (Which actually worked for Momma and me, but how often does it, really?) As an observer, I’ve seen too many sad, even battered examples of serial bad matches, people and personalities who seemingly welcomed the worst, spending their lives stumbling from crisis to crisis. I guess people can get into the ‘habit’ of thinking life’s a shit pile and so be it. Wallow in it for the comfort of that familiar devil it is. Life becomes something to ‘get through’. How long does it take for some partners to realize they just aren’t suited to one another?

Addictions. Whoops! Now here’s when I get to write what I know. Over the years, I’ve been strung out on about everything a guy could get strung out on. Not all of it as good as it sounds. Of course, I’d been too old and beyond all that by the time AIDS and crack arrived on the scene (by sheer luck). By then, I’d abandoned most of my poor choices, except for the booze. Ummm… and maybe a little cocaine. Which are what aggravated the Hep C to the point of cancer and subsequent (and supremely lucky) liver transplant in 2004.

So how do we evaluate how deeply we dwell within our cravings and our needs? Do we really crave what we need, as nature intended, or have we just become sucked into a silly or destructive habit. Do the habits we nurture actually accrue to our benefit? Or do we allow our obsessions and addictions to detract from our quality of life? That’s one of the biggies.

It’s probably all a matter of degree. As are most things. 

And, speaking of the darker side of cravings, here’s a little 200-word flasher for your … er … enjoyment? Perusal? … Endurance.

                                                 Re-charge             Copyright 2012 Daddy X

My wife’s burning eyes remain locked on mine. She kneels, straddling a guy with his dick up her cunt. Another man sodomizes her from behind. They can feel each other inside her; I’ve been in both places. She’s up on her arms, mouth wide. Semen from the recently fellated transvestite congeals on Samantha’s chin. I know she’s close, but it’s so hard for her. It always has to be different.

I’m on a sofa, a street hustler with a yellow mohawk sucking my cock. A woman wearing a huge strap-on forces the thing in his ass. We didn’t get their names.

I come first, bucking into the pimply face in my lap. He loses my dick, but tries to catch it by mouth as it waves around, spurting in his eyes. 

                                                              

That triggers Samantha’s low moan; it builds to a high wail as she comes. Finally finished, she keels over, flopping to her side. Two distinct slurps emanate when the cocks slip out.

Now it’s time to bundle her up, take her home. I made some soup this afternoon. I’ll sponge her down and put her to bed. Samantha should be okay now, for at least another week or two.