2000-10-24 - 00:17:28
Unless And Until: The Dick Monologue
Unless And Until: The Dick MonologueI feel beautiful.
And sexy.
And irrepressibly horny.
My dick is alive. Intelligently so. (Last night while reading a decidedly non-sexual novel, I throbbed under the sheets. There was no stopping me from relieving myself. My orgasm was tenfold more intense than with Marco the night before--and that one had been a doosey.)
Humming, I envision sex with every cute guy I see, or know, or remember, or dream of. Usually more than I fantasize about a repeat tryst with the guy whose touch had triggered the lava flow. (Jerking off last night, my body summoned up and re-experienced the hot time with Marco, yes; my day-time fantasies revolve around strangers, new conquests, imaginal dream men.)
Out struts my assertion: the importance--the delight--of remaining single. Freedom to desire, nomadically. More and more and more. (Today, I am aware of a murmuring anxiety about what Marco might want. Of defending my saucy, single self against his imagined expectations. Of being willing to forego future comminglings with him to avoid that marital trap.)
I feel powerful, awash in the lush afterglow of sex. I could have any guy I want. And I do. (Want to.)
I cannot fathom missing out on the next beautiful man who might want to get naked. I shall not miss a trick.
I am not as old as I thought I was. Depraved, but not yet decrepit. I am puer, hear me cum.
I want to cum with you and you and you and you. There are so many beautiful boys to lick. I am drooling hot juice, swilling swilling swilling; I am a tempestuous boil of body-froth. I want to spill out all over your loins.
And yours.
If you could just take my heat, and not cling. If we could go forth into that luscious, stinking darkness of men, share our beautiful selves with the writhing masses, bond through the perpetual libation of flesh.
If you would just not cling.
Except when I want you to.
If you would let me be free.
Except when I crave your heart's clutch.
Until it's me who's offering. This quivering body. These eyes open. Walking into the fierce embrace of your chains.
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