Baby Gay Thoughts

When I open Tiktok, my FYP is so exclusively gay that by the time I exit the app, I have forgotten that there are straight individuals. I simply adore women, and my FYP makes it possible for me to do so.

Anyhow, I recently had a fascinating conversation with the voices in my head. My closeted gay self-harming activity was having sex with males. Never did I enjoy it as much as I do sex with ladies. I had a task to complete. I would lie down and let him take care of himself. I appreciated anyone who ejaculated 5 minutes within penetration, sometimes they apologised for the short-lived experience. While they were sorry, I was relieved. I would eagerly respond “yes” when they asked if I had an orgasm so they wouldn’t penetrate me again in an effort to satisfy me. I was going to pleasure myself as soon as I was alone. I also thought semen was quite filthy, so even though I’ve had an IUD for approximately five years, I still rushed to the bathroom to flush the fluid out of my vagina before taking a shower. Sometimes I would just let them use a condom and not bring up the IUD. I once puked when someone attempted to ejaculate in my mouth. I however genuinely enjoyed kissing and cuddling. 

During intercourse, my thoughts frequently wandered. Here are some thoughts I can recall:

  • Perhaps if I squeeze my vagina he will finish quickly.
  • What face is that?
  • Let me moan a little so that I can look enthusiastic.
  • Should I suggest doggy so he doesn’t look at my face?
  • What is he doing? Should I stop him?

The males are not horrible in bed, contrary to what I had previously believed; penetration simply doesn’t work for me. Additionally, I never allow them to suck me off since the one time I did, the person was so aggressive that I felt irritated the next time I had to urinate.

Enjoy your week my dear reader and thank you for stopping by. You are appreciated.

My Special Neighbor

She is my neighbour from my previous apartment.

She moved into that apartment a month after me. We never really met for a while because as an introvert, I strategically only leave the house when there is no chance of me meeting any of my neighbours.

The first time we met, I was from the mall and was a tad bit tipsy. I passed her door before getting to mine. Her door was open and she had a party. My tipsy self thought it would be a good idea to go say hi at that moment. I didn’t lock my door because, for some reason, my brain thought that the anxiety that ensues from leaving my door open would stop me from spending too much time at the party.

I knock on her already open door and she receives me. I introduce myself as her neighbour. Turns out she already knew that. She invites me for a few shots. I get in, and one of her guests offers me his space on the couch, she brings me tequila and shot glasses and introduces me to the immediate guests.

I take a few shots and wanted to leave but she insists that I stay. I promise to go lock my door and be back. I go lock my door and join the party immediately after. The introvert in me showed up with cigarettes. I don’t mind cigarettes but I don’t particularly enjoy smoking them. They come in handy when I need a break from humans at a party. It’s easier for people to understand “I am going to smoke at the balcony” compared to “I am going to the balcony because there is no one there and I need space from humans”.

After a few minutes of saying hi to people I did not know, I go to smoke. A gentleman joins me, he was smoking so I did not mind his presence. 10 minutes later, I decided to cut my night short and go sleep since the conversation I was having with my balcony mate involved him trying to figure out what was wrong with me as a woman.

I go say bye to my neighbour and she decides to walk me to my house and hug me goodnight.

Fast forward to two weeks later, she invites me for dinner and drinks. We get to know more about each other. We are both developers. We laugh about my resting bitch face that stopped her from ever saying hi to me whenever she saw me. She tells me that I am nicer in person which makes me smile. When the drinks kick in, she tells me that I am hot and respectfully asks if she can kiss me.

Is she beautiful? Yes. Is she hot? Yes. Is she smart? Yes Is she sexy? Yes. Does she have a beautiful personality? Yes. Am I attracted to her? Yes. SO, WHY THE FUCK DID I SAY “NO” WHEN SHE ASKED TO KISS ME!!!

Now the thought of kissing her is in my head and that is all I can think about. After about an hour, she asked if she could kiss me again. I nodded yes and our faces very naturally moved closer to each other. I got lost in that kiss. Everything disappeared. She was the only thing that existed. I have never had a kiss that passionate and that intense that all my problems disappeared.

With both her hands on my neck, she detaches slowly from my lips, her hands still in place, she looks at me and asks me to spend the night. I nod again because however much I tried, I could not let the word “yes” out of my mouth even though all I wanted to do was scream it for the whole world to hear.

We went to bed, and she helped me remove my clothes, made sure I was comfortable and then she got on top of me. I was not prepared for this. All she needed me to do was lie down and spread my legs. She had toys that I had never seen before. I lost myself in her which is something I had never done while having sex with a man. I felt safe. I felt special. That night, she existed to pleasure me. This feeling was foreign to me and I loved it. Sex with a woman hits differently.

She was happy to go on all night but for some reason, I felt guilty. I did not deserve that level of pleasure without giving anything in return. We cuddled all night and she made me juice in the morning which was quite helpful with my hangover.

She was the most overwhelming experience I have ever had.

I am not equipped to handle you in your current state

Sunday morning

Babe: “Hey, babe! Do you want to watch Spiderman tomorrow morning?”

Me: “Yes, I would love to. It will be a nice way to spend my last day on holiday before getting back to work”

Monday morning

I am awake by 7 am. I start preparing at a snail’s pace. The movie starts at 10 am so I should be out of the house by 9 am. I check on him via text and he responds confirming the date.

I make it to the mall in time. I carried Machiavelli’s The Prince so I could keep myself busy in case I got there before him. He showed up a few minutes after me so I was only able to read a few sentences which I would have to reread when I get back home because I notice that there is too much in my head and I feel sad yet I do not know why.

As soon as I see him, I smile then stand up to meet him halfway and hug him as he plants a little kiss on my lips. We walk to the counter to buy our tickets, hot dogs, popcorn and fizzy drinks. I notice that I did not carry my 3D glasses. I ask the cashier how much a pair costs. My babe tells me to hold up a bit because he might have carried two pairs of glasses. He checks his bag just to realize that he carried 0.

“Babe, will you also get me a pair?” He asks and I agree to get him a pair. I get my debit card and give it to the cashier. He charges my card, I key in my pin and take my card, the 3D glasses that I just bought and my receipt. I look at my receipt and I see the cashier has charged everything on my card, the tickets, food and glasses. At this point, my babe starts walking away from the counter and cancels the mobile money payment process that he had begun on his phone.

I follow babe and we sit as we wait for our movie to start in about 15 minutes. I notice that he is a lot more touchy and keeps telling me how much he loves me. He said more “I love you”s in 15 minutes than he ever has in a week (I have to make it clear that this is not hyperbole). My biggest concern right now is “why don’t I want to tell him that I love him back?” and is this normal to him given that I always tell him that I love him back???

After the movie, we go to his place to have lunch. He tries getting me naked but I am not into it so we settle for cuddling. He asks me to spend the night and I tell him that I can’t because I have to be in the office quite early the next day. Our food is delivered. We get out of bed, and he helps me dress up and recognises my depressed demeanour which I stupidly apologise for and was immediately disgusted with myself for doing it.

While having lunch, I ask him about traffic and what time would be great for me to go home if I did not want to deal with traffic. He mentions that 4 pm and 8 pm are the best times. I choose 8 pm because I generally prefer darkness. That was when he said, “I think you should leave right now because I am not equipped to handle you in your current state.”

I left indeed…..I left physically, mentally, emotionally, psychologically, spiritually and sexually.

It all went downhill after “sploosh! frothy loins”

Tinder might be a great way for me to talk to people other than the two constant friends I have in my life. I sign up and upload pictures of my beautiful face that I consider cool. I pay for a subscription because I am curious with regards to knowing who has swiped me right. They might just be my type of weird.

After a few days of swiping, I match with Michael. He does not have a picture of himself, but I did like the artwork that he used in place of his face.

The first thing he said to me was “From your taste in music, I can already tell that I will like you”. This intrigues me immediately because he is the second human I have met who knows the names Thomas Bergesen, Brian Tyler, Hans Zimmer, Soundcritters, Two Steps from Hell, Efisio Cross, Alan Silvestri, Steve Jablonsky etc. I am glad to have connected my Spotify to tinder.

We talk about music from the movies that we enjoy. He spoke about nostalgic ecstasy in reference to his listening to music that used to be his favourite at some point. I borrowed the phrase “nostalgic ecstasy” and renamed one of my playlists from “nostalgia” to “nostalgic ecstasy”. This is a list of songs that I listened to at some point in my life and drained the songs off all their neurotransmitters.

We chat about Christopher Nolan, reading, and writing. We talk about my blog Kyllan and Chebet, I share the link with him, he asks to be included in my adventures with Kyllan and Konan. I agree and draft a story that introduces Michael to the family.

He once called me “my fair maiden” and I stupidly responded to that with “sploosh! frothy loins”. At this point, he debates whether to be quaint and proper or unleash his wildest fantasies on me. He chose to go with the latter. It was at this point that I realised I had fucked up.

So, I did what I always do whenever I freak out. I deleted tinder and moved on with my life and made peace with speaking to only 3 people: my two friends and me.

A few days later, I get a comment on the blog post that introduced Michael to the family. The comment was of concern. He was afraid that he might have lost me and he included his email address where I could reach him.

I reached out via email and we exchanged numbers. The ensuing days included an exchange of messages that had me permanently horny and smiling. This dude whose face I had never seen was stirring up emotions in me that I had not felt in a very long time. He asked if he could invite me to go work in his offices on one of the days that I would be working from home. We had to cancel this because my country had elections around that time and we have a history of post-election violence. Safety was key.

A few days after the elections and everything looked peaceful, he had a free afternoon and asked if we could hang out. I tell him that I was working from a restaurant and that he can come to join me there and we can have coffee. I was not as excited about this as I thought I should be. After telling him to join me at the restaurant, he responds “I was thinking more of cuddles and watching movies at your place.”

My vagina has never dried up so fast. I responded with a single “NO”. I then proceeded to delete his number and do some research on him. Our lovely Michael is actually called Victor and he doesn’t look like the kind of dude I would be attracted to if only looks is what we were going for. I quickly deleted the blog post that introduced Michael to the family and deleted all our correspondence (emails and text messages). My mind went on overdrive. Did he think that I was going to allow a strange man into my bed, all over my space and touching my skin? What if he cuddles me to death? What if he is a petty thief? He could be a serial killer. He must be a whore to think that it was okay for him to suggest that. He probably has a lot of unprotected sex. Eww! I am disgusted just thinking about it.

He sent a message a few days later apologizing for thinking that it was okay to want to come to my house just like that. He also asked if our relationship was damaged beyond repair. I responded with a single “YES”. He then sent an essay which basically was another apology, him saying that it was a privilege knowing me, that he is mad at himself for spoiling things, that he respects me and that he will never bother me again. I didn’t respond to this one.

A few days later, he bothered me again while I was on my eighth tequila shot. I don’t remember what I said to him but he has never bothered me again. He’s since been successfully deleted from my life.

In retrospect, things went downhill after “sploosh! frothy loins”. I will not be saying that to men ever again.

Just another day torturing my colleague

I am feeling dark today, so I have set all my gadgets to a dark theme so it matches my heart and create the best possible mood for my ensuing thoughts.

My very incompetent micromanaging racist colleague is at it again. What shall we do to her today?

I know a chemist that owes me a favour. Time to collect some helium gas.

As soon as she gets home, she will find me waiting for her in her bedroom. I will be behind the door. As soon as she opens the door to the bedroom, I will shut it behind her and knock her out.

While she is unconscious, I will carry her to her bed and have her lie on her tummy.

I will:

  1. Pull down her pants to expose her flat buttocks.
  2. Pull out my phone from my pocket and play the Vagina Song by Pig Vomit.
  3. Get the gas cylinder, connect it to my needle and inject the needle into her right buttock.
  4. Pump of helium gas into her body through the right buttock till she floats to the ceiling.
  5. Watch her expand and float to the ceiling.
  6. Stop pumping the gas, pull out the needle and shut the hole from which the needle came out using a cork.
  7. Ask the 3 footballers hiding under the bed to come out and kick her around as they do with a football in the field.
  8. Watch her bounce off the walls until she deflates and can’t bounce off the walls anymore.
  9. I confine her to the bed with handcuffs that I stole from my neighbour who is a policeman.
  10. I open the bathroom door to let out her boyfriend who I had turned into an obedient bee earlier in the day.
  11. The bee-boyfriend stings her nose and dies.
  12. I take the dead bee-boyfriend, I go home and create it.
  13. She regains consciousness.
  14. I watch her confusion on my laptop thanks to the secret cameras that I installed.
  15. She quits her job in disappears to Mars because of the huge nose (huge noses are illegal on earth, people use them to breathe in more oxygen than they need and then sell it to hospitals at exorbitant prices). I made sure the bee boyfriend’s sting effect would be permanent.
  16. I enjoy a healthy working environment forever.

Feelings after vodka

That first sip that goes down your throat, feels a little uncomfortable and irritating. It stings but you don’t care because you are waiting for the reward. That first sip hits to specifically remind you of why you should take the next sip. It’s a tipsy wave that comes and goes in almost a second as if teasing you and you are back to normalcy sooner than you hope. You immediately stretch your right hand to pick up your glass and your left hand to pick up the vodka bottle with 47 per cent alcohol. This time you pour a double shot. It tastes like shit but you are after that amazing tipsy feeling that seduced you only after one shot and left you yearning for more. What a bastard!

You take some water and pour another double shot. You worry about the speed at which you are drinking and decide to dilute it with water so you can sip it slowly. It doesn’t taste like shit anymore and you claim your status on the table of responsible alcohol drinkers.

You sip slowly making sure you are still in control of your balance. You start to feel good. He suddenly shows up in your thoughts. Who else would be better to share this feel-good moment than with him! You think about all the things you would love to tell him for no other reason except that you would want him to know every part of you. You think about the last time you saw him and that passionate kiss that is still very fresh in your head. Sigh!! You finally admit to your tipsy self that you miss him.

He’s different and sometimes he makes you uncomfortable but you like it. When around him, things that were once absolutely scary to you don’t seem scary at all. These are your selfish reasons for wanting him around. You are changing for the better, they may look like trivial things to someone else but only you know that this trivial experience if applied to other parts of your life, will move you closer and closer the kind of human you wish to be.

Your heart warms and you imagine that if he was there, you would stretch out your hands and touch his face, your fingers on his temple and the soft part of your palm on his cheek and look at him without speaking but your eyes will say, “I am glad I met you. I am glad you exist. You are a fine collection of atoms and my only hope is that you are getting as much from me as I am from you”. You know you will never utter those words but you hope that someday, he will be able to read your eyes.

It’s almost been three hours. You stand up to go empty your bladder and realize you are about to lose your balance as you walk. You empty your bladder, then head to the kitchen to have some water. You take painkillers hoping it will stop the pending headache. You go to your room, get naked and jump into bed. You whisper a good night and his name afterwards then make sure the last thought in your head before you sleep is of him just looking at you and not saying anything because his eyes tell it all.

Not so Sunday-like musings (again)

You touch me and goosebumps follow the path of your fingers and I hold my breath waiting. “Good morning.” your voice is low, like a roll of thunder. This turns me on like crazy. You move your hands over my shoulders, to my arms, past my waist and stop on my hip. “Are you sore?” you whisper close to my ear. Your fingers flexing and releasing on my hip distract me and a light slap to my thigh brings me out of my head long enough to reply. “No, Sir,” I say, my eyes closed against the sting of your palm. “Look at me,” you command, slipping your hand inside my panties to cup between my legs. “Are you sure?” you ask in a whisper. Twisting my
body slightly, I get a glimpse of you for the first time since last night, and memories of our sexcapades come to mind. “Which response will make you keep touching me?” I ask. You chuckle. I realize how desperate I sound; how desperate I actually am. “The truth will do just fine, ” you reply. You have an amused expression but there is genuine concern in your eyes. “I am a little sore,” I say truthfully. “But I’m fine. I promise.” I smile. You look at me for a long moment before apparently deciding my answer is an honest one.

“On your back.” You say as you remove your hand from my panties. Not a request, but rather a demand that sends a thrill through my entire body. I reposition as quickly as I possibly can while trying not to look too eager. I watch as you turn and push the blanket to the floor. Turning back to me, you gently clasp one of my ankles in each large hand and begin to massage my calves, pressing into the muscle. Leisurely you keep on working, your palms rubbing up and down the outside of my thighs, heating my skin until your hand’s get to the delicate lace of my
panties and you pull them down. This makes my clit throb. Kneeling between my thighs, you lean forward and press your calloused palms into my breasts, scraping my nipples between your fingertips and causing them to harden. I mewl, arching my back, begging for more contact, craving a firmer touch. “Now,” you murmur, “hands-on the posts behind you. Keep them there unless I instruct you otherwise, do you understand?”

“Y-Yes. —Sir.” I add hastily, moving my arms and positioning my hands as instructed. The corner of your mouth lifts in a slight smile. “Good girl,” you say, and I feel the effects of your words where your erection teases the lips of my increasingly wet vagina. You begin to trace the seam of my pussy with the tip of his cock, spreading my moisture. With no warning at all, you thrust forward, seating yourself fully inside me. I groan, and my body begins to obey without my conscious permission. My breathing slowly evens out, and my muscles start to uncoil. I move my hands to touch your chest. “Hands. On. The. Posts,” you re-instruct. Quickly and with no hesitation, I place my hands back on the posts, wrapping my fingers tightly around them and you nod once with approval. You flex your hips, and a ragged moan escapes my lips. I can already feel the soreness this will leave behind, but I crave it; I enjoy it. You begin to withdraw, and I immediately miss the too-full sensation, but you are back before I can form a protest. You set a rhythm, fast, forceful, jarring my body with each of your thrusts, filling me to capacity, and withdrawing again. My mouth opens on a silent scream. Your teeth are nipping sharply at my neck. I hear myself gasping and crying out, but I’m not forming words.

Much too soon, a familiar pressure begins to build low in my belly. White-hot sensation spreads, radiating from the place where you hit the end of me on each inward stroke, and I know I have to get myself together enough to speak. I try to even out my breathing, force my brain to cooperate with my mouth. “Pl-ease” I beg, my words breathy and strained as I continue to absorb the force of your body thrusting into mine. “I’m so close.” “You need it, don’t you?” you taunt. “Yesss” I hiss. I’m so afraid I won’t be able to stop myself, and I tighten my hands on the posts behind my head, fingers going numb in my effort to maintain a modicum of control. “You want to cum?” you ask casually. “Yes, please.” Suddenly you pull out completely, and I’m left gasping, teetering on the edge of oblivion. I try to pull my legs together to hold in the sensation, alleviate the hollowness of your absence, but you brace my thighs apart with
your hands on my knees. “Turn over, ass in the air. Do not cum yet.” Turn over. Turn over. Turn over. I’m chanting in my mind, trying to remember what the words mean. My brain is jumbled and refusing to cooperate with my limbs.

I eventually turn over. You push your veiny cock inside of my tight ass, you push slowly as I haven’t done anal much and I am still new to it. As you push inside of me, you grab my ass and I moan audibly. It is insane. You thrust deeply into me a few times before you cum inside of my ass. You pull out of me and sit down on the bed beside me, I lay naked with my legs across you and that’s when you pull my legs apart, your cum making its way out of me and you push your fingers inside of me. “Cum, now!” you whisper. And I do, thrashing and convulsing, squeezing you. My legs are quivering under my weight and I collapse to my side as soon as you release your fingers. My mind is completely empty, my body replete, and before I even realize it, I’ve closed my eyes, and I’m asleep. A few hours later, I wake and manage to drag myself out of bed. My body still buzzing with pleasure.

Not very Sunday-like musings

I thought he was a very good looking human. When he opened his mouth, he turned into this being that had the quality of attracting any living being by inherent force that he is unaware of. This is the part where my self control had to come in play. He was enticing and appealing to all my existing senses. My vagina could be the one speaking right now but I honestly do not give a flying fuck. My vagina is a part of me and I fully approve of her hornyness and what she has to say.

I can’t understand what it is I feel for him and I don’t think I want to. No fun in that. I want spend a night with him. A night of whiskey, food, mind-blowing conversations and heavenly sex that will take me right in the middle of a orchestra starring angels playing music controlled by his rhythm with every note violently piercing through me, breaking all my walls and taming me into the most domesticated creature in existence. I want him to move his fingers lightly over my skin because the electric feeling that follows makes my loins frothy. I wanna run my fingers slowly down his temple and kiss him as though I aim to drain all feeling and desire from myself and rid me of him.

Professor Marbles

All I have to do is to survive until I am 130 so that I can regenerate into a young person. How hard can that be? 130 is so bloody old. By the time I get to 80, I will have no teeth and will be walking around with a walking stick. I don’t fucking want to reach that state. I gotta find a way out. One thing you may not know is that the government regulates the regeneration facilities. The 130 thing is just a rule. You can regenerate at whatever age you want. Unfortunately, the government owns the technology and nobody has been able to recreate it yet. The scientist responsible for its creation is somewhere breastfeeding. He keeps being regenerated into a toddler and that way he will not be able to give anyone his secret formula. This hiccup will not deter me from my quest. I am going to find this scientist and do everything I can get information from the old toddler.

Kyllan, pack my bags, we are going to Mars to find Professor Marbles. Professor Marbles lives in Mars with the other convicts. The earth became too populated and crimes increased. All the criminals were sent to mars without a leader. The professor is sent to earth once every two years so that they can be baby-fied. Meeting him on Mars is much better than waiting for him to show up.

Everything is ready and it is now time to leave. The journey is successful and I get to mars. As soon as I get out of my ship, two people with guns are waiting for me outside. They bind both my hand and take Kyllan’s chip form this neck. Shit! I feel fucked. “We shall now take you to our leader”, the arrester says. I follow him closely while enjoying the scenery around. These prisoners have really done some good things with the place. They even have a bouncing castle which is something that has been outlawed on earth. Humans would inflate their kids and bounce them on the castles. Some kids exploded. So, both kid inflation and bouncing castles were outlawed.

In about two minutes, we were at the Leader’s office. Some woman walks in carrying a six-month-old baby. The chubby baby opens its mouth to start speaking. It has teeth, the chubby thing has teeth.

“Hi, who are you and why are you here?”

Did the chubby thing just speak? I had to take a moment and normalize my breathing.

“We are looking for Professor Marbles. We would like the schematics for building the regenerator.” I said.

“I am Professor Marbles you dick. I cannot give you the schematics but I have another way of helping you. Head back to earth and visit the Earth house. Camp 50 metres outside the South Gate. When the lights go out, walk slowly towards the gate and start playing this tune. All the Earth house members have chips in them that will react to this particular tune by making them laugh. They will laugh till they die and the eventually evaporate into thin air. I will give you a passcode to get in after 20 minutes. Walk to the basement and find android replacements for everyone. I made then so I know they are perfect. Nobody will notice a thing. The human race is clearly getting more and more stupid. You will find the President’s schedule in the Round Office. You are to become the new leader until I come back in the next 18 months. While controlling the president, you can change the regeneration age to suit you. Now go back to Earth and take care of that planet for me.”

Before I could say anything, we had been teleported to 50 metres outside the South Gate of Earth house. Let’s fucking carry out a coup Kyllan. Fuck me!! Your chip is still in Mars.

Emotionally compromised

“I have none of the usual inducements that most women have to enter into the conjugal or connubial state. Was I to fall in love, indeed, it would be a different thing! However, I have never been in love. It is neither my way nor my nature. Without love, I shall be a fool to change such a situation as mine. I believe few married women are half as much mistress of their lives, as I am of mine.” It was at that moment when I was toying with these alluring thoughts that he shows up in my life. He did not quite dispossess me of these thoughts, he, however, offered strong feelings of desire, a general want and longing in lieu of love.

Well informed, knowledgeable, in possession of an extensive vocabulary, strikingly impressive, elegantly proportioned, a face that is hard to miss, cultured and refined. He spoke with exquisite calmness, a pleasing young man undoubtedly. The overwhelmingly mind-blowing philosophical conversations make me hot for him. I look at him talking and my gaze is focused on his lips. They move with the quality of splendour and royalty. I wonder if I can separate those lips from him and keep them to myself and listen to them tell me about Socrates, Sartre, Plato, Aurelius….and the rest. How beautiful that would be. He is a magnificent collection of atoms. How can one so smart be equally beautiful? He does not falter. He oozes eloquence and radiates danger, the kind that borders on mischief. The kind of danger I run towards and not away from. I would let him have me whole.