February 11, 2008

Spin Cycle

I’m a dervish. Maybe this is how I get so much done in such a short span of time. I spin. There is not a single Namaste bone in my body. I am the opposite of OM. I move from one project to the next, without taking a breath. By now, I’ve mastered multi-tasking to the level where I really don’t know how to do one thing at a time.

Spinning. I swear. It’s not just a job, it’s an adventure.

I’ve been like this for years. Moving fast means you don’t have to stop and think. Always being in motion means never being at rest. I don’t crave chaos—I crave full speed ahead. All the time.

But there’s a problem that goes along with spinning. When you move so quickly, you can make mistakes. Offend someone with an email. Say the wrong thing to a buddy. Or if you don’t actually do those things, you can worry that you have. See? You might be moving fast, but sometimes you’re only moving fast in one place. A human top, spiraling round and round and round.

I’ve got a few friends who can put out a hand and stop me. They know the words to say. They know when to lead me away from the computer, or away from the telephone, making little sh-sh noises, as if to calm a spooked animal.

A spinner.

Yes, that’s me in a nutshell.
Or put me in a nut house.
Whichever you’d like.

But the thing that really stops me, the one thing that holds me in place is simple. It’s being anchored. With handcuffs or leather thongs. With a single command or a warning look. A solitary stroke of a finger under my chin or a thumb along the outline of a silver belt buckle. Being bound means that I can’t go somewhere else. I can’t be six places at once. And it’s more than that, of course.

Deeper than that. Darker than that.

Pain clears my head. The sex I like, the rough, rock-hard, take-no-prisoner type of sex is the one thing that makes me stop. That makes me still. I’m not put in my place—I’ve found my place. A top, tipped over, not moving at all.


P.S. Spin Cycle is from backbone. Her art is so cool!

P.P.S. Of course, spinning can be positive. I swear. Look at this excerpt from Machine Wash Hot by Thomas Roche, which appeared in His:

The spin cycle is six minutes long. That’s always long enough for one, but sometimes not quite enough for two. Once I managed three, though. Washable wool.

I’ve gotten into the fetish of it; it turns me on to load the washer and then slowly strip my clothes off, leaving on just a bra and panties, then stuff the clothes in the cylinder and close the lid. I start the water and lean against the machine, waiting.

When I first began, I would fantasize, but I don’t even need to do that any more. I get turned on just smelling laundry soap. Just walking into the garage excites me. The scent of clean clothes inspires a warm afterglow, and the clink of quarters arouses me just on general principle. Sometimes I walk past a laundromat and I have to go home and change my underwear. The one time the power was out at home, I did try to do my laundry in a laundromat. Now that was a disaster. I leaned against the washing machine as it fired into the spin cycle. I put my face against the metal as it vibrated, like a lover I couldn’t touch. I sighed softly, languishing as the single mothers and college students looked at me like I was a maniac.

But at home, I climb on top and lean back against the machine, feeling the faint shiver as the cylinder fills with water. I feel it start to agitate, working back and forth in a rapturous kind of foreplay.

Then, when I feel the spin cycle start, I let out a little moan.

I lean back or hunker forward. I’ve gotten very limber; I can drape my knees over the side so I can press my pussy down hard against the machine. But that’s not even necessary; the vibrations can travel through my tailbone and into me if I lean back, gently pinching my nipples as the rhythm mounts.

The machine pulses and shudders, fucking me with its cadenced motion. It goes faster, faster as the sensations build in me.

And somewhere there, in the midst of the spin cycle, I come.


Smut Girl said...

Oh, I like that excerpt. That is much better than the kind of spinning I do...

Mehreen said...

Wow, now I know that when my vibrator conks out, I should do a load of laundry!