My dear readers, there is a little secret that I must share with you. I ask that you be my confessor and pay heed, withholding any negative judgments and maintaining your current favorable view you have of me. You do, by the way, have a favorable view of me, right? No matter, but you must understand this confession requires your utmost sensitivity. Okay, okay... My little confession is this: I am... (fuck it, I'm just gonna say it) horny! There! I've said it.
A few hours ago, as I was watching TV and landed on an old episode of Star Trek: Voyager, I've learned that, according to the show, what my body is telling me is I'm afflicted with a condition called Pon farr. In English, it just means that I want to get down on my knees, tearing open a guy's pants (hopefully this guy would be my life partner), and ripping up his underwear, to reveal a hard, throbbing and pre-cum oozing cock, and then I'd give it, with my mouth, a good, saliva dripping cleansing treatment every dick rightly deserves. Then turning him over, I'd play with his tight, pink hole; there will be tonguing and fingering, obviously. Once it's sufficiently lubed, I'd plow him, doggy style, until he begs me to stop. I'd turn him over soon there after, and while fucking him, I'd play with his nipples, to make him writhe and moan with pleasure. There will be yelping, groaning, cooing; pleading, demanding... Oh yeah. After his face is sufficiently moisturized with my Asian pearl cream, he will then have his way with me. He'd get off; we'd repeat. By the night's end, we'd have gone through a few or maybe all of the Kama Sutra positions. Then my blood fever would be abated until the next time.
Okay, okay. I probably need to lay off on sites like this, this, and this. By the way, QC is an awesome resource for everything hot and steamy. BA, well, let me just refer you to this:
(I don't have permission to post it. BA, I will take down this beautiful picture of Joel Marceau, if you want me to.) And as for NS... because of it, Messieurs Right and Left have known me intimately.But the truth is I won't give in to my carnal desires. I can't. I just feel like...yes, what I am about to say will make me sound lame, but like a teenage girl (and oh God, I can't believe I gonna say this), my first sexual encounter with a guy needs to be special. (I know, I've just rolled by eyes, too.)
You see, the Church has sufficiently and thoroughly brainwashed me to believe that the act of love making should be just that, an expression of love shared physically between two individuals, and not just a means to get off at the expense of a warm body, however willing he may be. But I fully understand that in our community, sex is like a handshake, an introduction before two individuals decide to pursue a relationship. And I, in no way, will judge that or cast the first stone, lest I want the same treatment—I don't, by the way. Hell, my life as a gay man would be so much easier if I let my hormones rule me; hell, it’s just
And I’m totally open to believing that it is “fear,” more so than my religious conviction, that is causing me to “save” myself (rolling my eyes).
God, I’m so fucked up!
That is all.
Oh, If you know of any good psychiatrist, let me know.
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