For the past several days I’ve been working on an essay that regardless of my strict dedication continues to stop dead in its tracks. It’s about a man that I was so physically attracted to that throughout our attempts to date and spend time together the lust I felt for his face and his body and his Great Big Dick had me too distraught to participate in a conversation. Of course being the bitch that I am I never conceded that he had any sexual power in the matter and I had the gall to declare that my endless desire to fuck was in fact purely based on my power as Lady Who Likes to Fuck, not his as Man Who is Desirable. But he was, irresistibly so. Much to my degeneration.
This is all a nice little topic for exploring attraction, objectification, power, and my own unfair gender bias that I push on men and women alike. However I can’t fucking finish it because I am so distracted by his image every time I try to write about him that just as when we sat on that rooftop garden in Pilsen and he desperately tried to get me to engage, I don’t know how to complete a sentence or release a goddam thought. All I can think about is fucking this man, whom I haven’t even seen since August. He’s a constant fantasy, my best fantasy, my hardest fucking cum. I’ve never been made a fool by the beauty of a man before. Perhaps that’s why I kept trying to make him the fool instead. But shit do I feel like an idiot now. You should see the mess of drafts I’ve been building just trying to keep my head on straight while he’s still in it.
I’ll get this piece done eventually. But in mourning the death of the Nation’s Greatest Dirty Bird today, Mr. Clarence Reid AKA Blowfly, I’m nominating myself as one option next in line to the throne. I’m a perv. I’m just a horny old pervert. And there’s a guy out there who is ruining all of my underwear simply because I’m trying to tell a story about realizing that in this city exists a real live human male I was once actually attracted to. Fuck this sexy bullshit. I may be a cold black scorpion eating dicks and crushing souls but I am nothing but a moronic hot rod when faced with a man who truly gets me hard. I hope he’s doing well whatever he's now doing with his fine self. He’s doing pretty well in my fantasies. And I’ll just have to work with those for the time being. I’ll get back to that essay tomorrow. This is exhausting. All of it. For everyone. I'll hope for a day when my thoughts come easier and we all don't have to try so hard. No one should ever have to try this hard.
It's just sex. Everyone needs to chill the fuck out. The laws of attraction bend for no one, so why not just give into them ourselves. We could all use a good fuck. Some head, groping, a little ass play, maybe just making out, or the sight of one big beautiful megacock. Yeah. I'll admit it. He had a Visible Dick. And it had me like.