I once had a friend—in my pre-transition phase, unfortunately—who was a martial artist. And I mean a real martial artist, not one of those Bruce Lee wannabes with a black belt from some strip mall martial arts school, who taught hand-to-hand combat to military personnel. For a while, he was coming over to my house every week & he'd futilely try to teach me a few things but really he was practicing some stuff of his own on me. He'd encourage me to "really fight back" & I did my best to oblige him but I wasn't much of a fighter & he'd quickly wrap me up helplessly in some submission hold that I could hardly not think of as vaguely sexual. I doubt he was thinking of it that way. But who knows? If he was, there was a missed opportunity there.

Anyway, one day he came over and wanted to demonstrate/practice a choke hold he'd been adapting. A choke-hold, he explained, doesn't literally choke you. Choke-hold is kind of a misnomer. What a choke-hold actually does is cut off the blood supply to your brain and, if executed properly, causes you to pass out. He told me that he would do it slowly and when I felt myself blacking out to tap him on the forearm. He stood behind me, positioned his arm so that my throat was cradled in the inside crook of his elbow, lifted me onto my toes,  and proceeded to slowly squeeze. Slowly…he said, but within a second or two, I saw black spots in front of my eyes & felt my vision darkening & my knees buckling. It was absolutely painless. It was like falling asleep precipitously, like maybe after taking way too many Xanax. I was so taken by surprise that I nearly didn't have time to tap his forearm…

Ive thought about that episode many times since. Ive replayed it again & again in my mind. It seems the perfect way to die. An absolutely dreamy way to die. Swift, painless, plunged into darkness, unconscious before you even know whats happening. I often fantasize about it sexually. About being killed like that.  I'm wearing sexy lingerie and the guy doing it has his cock up my ass and he's fucking me as he works his arm under my chin. There's no tapping his forearm. He doesn't intend to let go. He quickly tightens his arm and I'm like a rabbit in a snare. It's too late before I even think to raise a hand. I'd like to die like that, brain-starved, cock-stuffed, as he spurts inside me, dead before he drops me to the floor. 

Is that weird? I guess its weird. I don't hear too many people fantasizing about anything like this. Maybe they do and just don't say it. It's not the kind of thing that ordinarily comes up in conversation. Too bad. Conversations would be a lot more interesting if they did. I'd be more inclined to join them instead of just remaining silent.