I Took Shrooms to Goon. Instead, I Had to Deal With Myself 🍄
My brain made me confront my own insecurities before I could get off.
Every so often, I feel that pull to explore the back of my mind. Sometimes I’m searching for answers. Other times, I just want to indulge in the fantasies that usually stay quiet. Either way, I almost always end up uncovering something I’ve been avoiding; usually some insecurity I’ve been suppressing.
I always plan my “trips” in advance. Taking shrooms is rarely a spontaneous decision. Embarrassingly, I’ll even go as far to curate the porn I plan to watch while I’m high. Playing with myself as I fade in and out of reality is both surreal and addicting. I can get completely sucked into a scene, either as a voyeur watching from the corner, or morphing into one of the women on screen and feeling everything she feels both physically and emotionally. That immersion and mind + body connection is what I’m truly chasing.
The day of my shrooms trip, I found it hard to focus on work or much of anything. I just wanted to get home, lock my door, and disappear into my fantasy world.
After the gym, I rushed back and went straight to my stash. I skipped dinner, knowing it would hit harder on an empty stomach. There was about 3 grams; enough to make me question my life choices, but not enough to completely lose myself.
My hands were already shaking a little as I reached for the first stem. I could feel my stress levels spiking on my fitness band as I popped the first cap into my mouth. That pungent, earthy taste hit me immediately. It’s something I’ve enjoyed less and less over the years. I choked back a few more stems and caps, washing them down with ice-cold water while trying to ignore the growing nausea.
As the high started to ramp up, I felt that familiar pang in the pit of my stomach; a mix of nervousness and excitement. I was bracing for whatever my own mind had in store for me.
Within the first hour, I became primal. Illuminated by the glow of the TV and computer monitor, I started crawling and rolling around on my bed like a kitten getting its first taste of catnip. My body contorted and stretched into yoga poses I half-remembered or invented on the spot. I began caressing myself under my shirt, slipping my fingers under my shorts, not quite masturbating yet, just seducing myself. Teasing. Enjoying the slow build.
Just as I was ready to take it further, the intrusive thoughts crept in. My shortcomings and insecurities started flooding the sensual space I’d created. The very things I’d been trying to outrun at the start of the sesh had finally caught up to me.
“I’m not a good writer.”
I mean… I’m okay, but I’m not polished. I rely on AI too much to edit and refine my prose. I hate that about myself…that I’m not good enough to just write without training wheels. But I also know how long and hard it takes to churn out something good, and I’ve resorted to shortcuts to meet arbitrary deadlines and keep up the facade that I’m actually skilled at this.
“I care more about my subscriber count than I care to admit.”
Like the proper tsundere I am, I try not to show how much I care about validation, but I really do. I tell myself I’m writing what I enjoy and that’s enough, but the truth is I want a larger, more captive audience. When I see my subscriber count go down, I can’t help but feel like I’ve done something wrong or that I’m not posting enough. I’m too self-conscious to promote myself as heavily and don’t wanna come off needy or desperate. And I don’t have enough time to engage with others in the community the way I should. So my goals are constantly at odds with what I’m actually capable of.
“I can’t write sapphic erotica because I lack experience.”
There are times I feel like a fraud writing lesbian erotica like I have a clue what I’m talking about. I worry that I’m portraying queer & lesbian women poorly, especially with the intense, and sometimes dark scenes. Some of the dominant women I write about in Curious Desires and Vivid Desires are an amalgamation of people I know and the qualities that turn me on, but that can be seen as exploitative.
“People wouldn’t care about my writing if I wasn’t a pretty girl.”
I know it’s self-absorbed to even think this, but if I didn’t post a few pics of myself or play up certain aspects in the Sex Quest series… would people still care? Or are they just waiting for me to bare it all online in a whirlwind of messy, bad decisions?
It was around 1am when the thoughts finally quieted. They didn’t disappear, but they softened enough for something else to come through. I realized how much I worry about what other people think of me. So much that I keep my own potential locked away, obsessing over whether I’m “good enough,” whether the numbers are moving, whether I’m keeping up momentum. As a writer and storyteller, I let that fear taint the joy and spontaneity of the process itself.
And maybe the real spontaneity I need to embrace isn’t just in my writing. Maybe it’s in how I let myself be seen.
And with that, the horniness I’d been chasing all night finally had room to breathe. That tingly warmth I’d felt all night had finally settled between my legs. I reached for my vibrator, opened one of the scenes I’d been meaning to re-watch, and let myself sink into my seat, ready to spill every bit of pent-up potential all over my desk chair.
“Forever Night” (1998) – Jill Kelly Fucks the Devil
The first scene I queued up was an old one I remembered watching when I was younger. Jill Kelly, in some hazy gothic setting, slowly giving herself over to “the devil.” The moment she disrobed, I felt this strange, fuzzy nostalgia wash over me. It wasn’t just the visuals. It was the feeling of watching someone surrender so completely. I found myself slipping into her place, feeling what it might be like to give in to my own darker desires.
The sex started slow and eerie, almost tender at first. Then it shifted; primal and aggressive once he started fucking her on the sex swing. I felt my own body heat up from the raw, animalistic energy. I didn’t want to come so soon. I tried my best to hold back, to save it for the next scene. I was almost gone the second his demonic cock pushed into her pearly white ass.
After that, I went down a rabbit hole trying to find more 90s fantasy porn with that same hazy, dreamy, gothic vibe. I saved a few more scenes for next time.
CEMD-417 First Lesbian Experience! The Most Crazy and Lewd Monster “Ayaka Mochizuki” Has Lesbian Sex with “Minami Maeda” Who Has Zero Lesbian Experience! (2023)
This was a more recent discovery; a documentary-style film that captures a woman’s real first lesbian experience. Minami is delicate and pretty, and her nervousness is palpable from the start. You can see her uncertainty as she navigates being touched and kissed by another woman for the first time. Ayaka is cool, confident, and takes her time seducing her. What got me was how expressive Minami is about her anxiousness. I was fixated on the way she tries to hold back her moans as Ayaka teases and kisses her nipples, and how easily that guard breaks the moment the older woman goes down on her for the first time. Her involuntary whimpers turn into full cries of pleasure as the film goes on.
I didn’t even make it through the full two-hour film. I was already turned on to the point of frenzy, but the moment Ayaka started rimming her, something in me broke open too. I came hard, shuddering against the pulsing vibrator. My cat woke up from her cat tree and looked at me with quiet judgment.
It was 4am. I was sweaty, spent, and thoroughly dehydrated. My pussy was still humming long after I put the vibrator away. During the night, each time I got up to pee and passed the bathroom mirror, I saw myself shifting; becoming more “Ginza” than ▇▇▇▇ ▇▇. And Ginza was oddly at peace with herself.
I've always been curious about shrooms, still gathering the courage to try it
We love you Ginza! You can never really plan for a mushrooms trip but I think you handled it very well! You’re a great talent and don’t let anyone tell you differently ❤️