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.

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.

The brain or the heart?

It was only ever supposed to be just a sex thing, a fling, two adults enjoying each other’s bodies. Nothing more nothing less. When we did it the very first time, I was trying to get rid of all these feelings resulting from my urge to satisfy my sexual impulses. It worked perfectly and in a moment of vulnerability, I asked if we could do that again and he was okay with my idea which in retrospect, I regret saying that. My head wants to end this trysts of ours before my heart gets in too deep. My head stands at the very edge of a deep hole trying to pull out my heart that already slipped and fell into the hole and descending in free fall under the influence of the gravity of his existence. This will end into a tug of war and my head, though rational, is sometimes weaker than the heart.

I go to him on a Friday afternoon, get some alcohol, smoke some tobacco, act like nothing is going on between us because none of our friends know it. We have been extremely discreet so far. I think about his lips, his face, his body. He talks, I can see his lips move but I cannot hear what he is saying, I am memorizing all the details of his face, his nose, his ears, his mouth. He is a beautifully made piece of human being. If he was created by God, he did not hold out anything on this one. If he evolved, then nature must have favored him.

I see him and I feel shivers down my spine. He touches me and my knees suddenly become doughy. I cannot stand anymore. Someone, please pick me up. I cannot stop looking at him. He is a mystery. A mystery that I do not want to solve. There is some sanctitude in what we have and what I feel for him thus solving this mystery will damage irreparably the very delicate temple in my head where I store all my memories and imaginations of us.

We kiss, we have sex but we never talk about it. I wonder whether he likes it or not. In fact, we rarely talk. Does he think of me as much as I think of him? If he does think of me, does he smile? When it is time to sleep, he comes to bed, he doesn’t say anything but we all know what is about to happen. At this point, I am doing back-flips in my head, my heart is racing a little bit, his lips touch mine and for a moment, nothing else exists but he and I. I move my fingers through his rugged hair and wonder what he would look like if he cut it all. I run my fingers down from his temple all the way to his succulent lips. We have a go at it which is always a mind-blowing experience and when he cums, we take a nap or rather he takes a nap. I have my eyes open. I am memorizing all the details of his naked body. I rest on my side with my right leg on top of his as he cuddles me. I notice how our skin tones are quite different. I think about an artist coming in and painting us just as we are so I con something to hold on to in case my memory fades away. He is magnificent.

After the nap, he slowly touches my hand and leads it to his phallus. He is hard again. He kisses me, plays with me a little bit and then asks me to ride him. I can feel him cumming. I sometimes wonder, ‘Does he ever get worried that I may get pregnant??’ even-though I know that I cannot. Will he hold these shenanigans against me if I decide to quit him?? Does he know how happy I am that I get to have sex with him??

If this was meant to only be a sex thing, why do I feel how I feel?? Why does my heart feel smote by him?? Why am I slightly jealous when I hear that he is with another girl?? I want to be selfish with him. I want his lips to be mine and mine alone. This was never supposed to happen. I find myself compartmentalizing him and pretending that he does not exist. Move on with my life without all these annoying feelings.

Please, feel my thoughts deep inside, reach out further and feel what I feel and tell that one thing, just one thing that will make me know whether to embrace these feelings or get rid of them.

Coup de theatre

I am driving to my lovely boyfriend’s house right now to surprise him. He is a wee laddie but he does all these things that inspire me and that no other wee laddie can do. He is in a state of altered consciousness induced by narcotics and he needs me to take advantage of him. Something that I really enjoy doing and I do so well. So, I thought I should go see him with my body naked to his invasion. I am not completely unclothed though. I have two pieces of clothing on. I have my trench coat and a beautiful sexy pair of stiletto heels, and kegel balls too, not that I needed them. The physical exertion required by my work kept me fit.

I get to his house, I am aflame with desire, you could tell by my unrestrained excitement. I open his door with the key he gave me. I am looking all spicy as I walk towards his bedroom to surprise him. I tiptoe into his room, trying not to mess up the surprise.

I am always taking advantage of him but none of my exploits have involved nudity. I also think I love this guy and his skin. His skin is as soft as a baby’s caboose. I usually want to eat him. We make quite the spicy couple. He might be the one. He is so beautiful both inside and out. I have already pictured myself with him for the rest of my life. I can see seven cute little babies who all look like me. I bought a family car yesterday. I am off birth control. I am already looking for a family house. I have given him half the wardrobe space in my apartment. We will grow old together, pick apples together and live happily ever after waking up to each other’s faces for all eternity. Eternity is quite a long time, just like I want it to be. We will die together. If one of us dies before the other, the one who stays alive will drink cyanide so we can be together forever.

This is the first time that I was ever surprising him. I was hoping it would be very soulful and amorous. He would immediately fall in love with me after I dropped that trench coat. He has never seen me fully naked. We were creatures of the dark, always doing it in the dark like horny bats. By doing it, I mean cuddling. We were cuddlers. The cuddles were endless with him. I walked into the room and switched on the lights. Oh yeah, the lights were on and there were surprises indeed. Lots of surprises in fact, such as my naked body, the ice on my virgin boyfriend’s broken penis, the pink handcuffs around his wrists, the girl under the bed looking for the cuff keys and the other girl behind me who had gone to fetch more ice from the refrigerator.

Who knew, the ‘surpriser’ became the ‘surprisee’. My poor heart. I will probably just turn into an angry woman who hates all men and wants to kill them.

I kick out the two girls. I then take the boy’s laptop and leave him watching lesbian porn with a gag around his mouth. I am guessing this would definitely be his kind of thing. Resetting my brain on what I thought about him was not that hard. Also, if you are an owner of a broken penis, do not watch anything that will turn you on, broken penises do not react well to that.

A little feeling….

Seeing you is always euphoric. You elicit all these feelings in me that I prefer to keep buried deep down where they can never be found. Feelings that occasionally show when I have drowned myself in a bit of alcohol and all the concrete and blocks that make my very highly erected walls shatter into tiny pieces. You send electric shivers down my spine and suddenly everything around me disappears and all I can see is you and you alone, all sound is lost to me and all my senses stop to work except for my eyes. Beauty personified is what you are. I would totally have you before I choose any drugs. Move over alcohol, a new love is in town. My loins get a little frothy and then I remember that I have to practice self-control and not jump on you and probably touch your will and then find a room to go to because both of us will be so horny. I first make a cheeky smile from ear to ear. Then I steal glances because I do not want you to catch me staring. All I can think of is kissing you over and over again and making love in the middle of the night while our friend is blacked out on the floor. We both hope he does not wake up while I am on top of you with my tits bouncing and I try so hard to suppress my moans while hoping that if this ever happens again, I will not have to suppress anything. I get high on the thought of me touching your abs, your hair and you running your fingers down my back.

I don’t even know if this will happen again but I am so happy right because, for the first time after a very long time, I felt something emotional. It’s good to be human again.

The Morning After

When I wake up after a night of excessive consumption of that sweet or bitter colorless volatile flammable liquid which is the intoxicating constituent of wine, beer or spirits, I raise my very heavy head to make sure I am sleeping on a very clean pillow because you know sometimes you get too high and filthy and disgusting and you end up sleeping on your own vomit (yeah, you know this, I am sure it has happened to you at least once but you could care less because your hangover a fucking big problem), then I slightly raise my head to about 30 degrees from the pillow to feel how heavy it is and if it is throbbing so I can judge my hangover, I widen my eyes by increasing the distance between my two eyelids exposing my very beautiful almost snow white, not really snow white, bloodshot is more like it, eyeballs to the light of the day and I start looking around to make sure I am in my house. This process takes about 5 – 10minutes. That I how long it takes me to recognize my house when I am experiencing a hangover. I can barely see anything those first two minutes of looking.

If I am not in my house, I have to be at my friend’s house. If not in my friend’s house, ‘Oh! Man, shit shit shit. I am such a loser. How did I end up at a stranger’s house again! What is wrong with me! Why do I never learn!’ If I am in a stranger’s house, “Oh shit! Fucking hell. Why the hell can’t I just drink alcohol with moderation? I am going to hell. Fuck me.” I really hope to see a face that I know. I hope there will be a dozen people in that house, just in case he is a serial killer or a date rapist (my thought process tends, to begin with, the worst case scenario), we could tie his hands and feet to his bed, remove his clothes, draw some penis swastikas on his face, put some cocaine on his tongue, switch on the television and put on some pornography and gag his mouth before walking out and feeling good like we just saved the world from one annoying loser. That way, I won’t be worried at all.

If I am alone in bed with a stranger, I totally freak out. All the demons from my childhood rare their faces. My fucking Science teacher, I was only eleven, you stupid motherfucker. I did not need to know the taste of your mouth or how nipples felt when they are touched. You motherfucking son of a bit, I was a little innocent girl and you taught me things that I cannot even imagine doing at my current age. Well, what would I be without my demons, they are sadly always there for me. My heart decides to beat really fast and I get seduced by an anxiety attack. If the stranger is a man, I check to see if I have my clothes on. If I don’t have them on, I go to the toilet to make sure I am not sore down three and my nipples are intact. (I once dated a guy who likes to bite; my

nipples were permanently erect because they were always swollen and people always mistook me for the horny lady).

If I am sore, I go to the nearest trash can to look for a rubber sheath that is usually worn on the penis during sexual intercourse as a contraceptive and to protect against infection. You know that thing that people do not like to use and then they get unplanned for babies. If there is no rubber sheath in the trash can, I go back to the bedroom to do five things.

One, I pull off the blanket off the bed to make sure that this boy stranger whose name I do not know has a penis. The penis should be free from dirt, marks, and pollutants. There are some pretty filthy lads out here and when you drink to a stupor like me, you can end up home with one of the filthy lads. I thoroughly inspect that penis to my satisfaction hoping that he is dead asleep.

Two, I check around the bedroom for a used rubber sheath, hoping to find at least one or two or three of five depending on how sore I am. Under the bed, between the sheets, under the pillow, on the floor, in my vagina. “Fucking hell, if I do not find any, I will have to take a morning after pill. I hate those things and the woman at the chemist has the most piercing judgmental eyes. Holy shit snacks.”

Three, I wake up the strange boy and ask the said strange boy if he has any disease in his little man that I should be worried about. “If I am gonna die, I would like to be very well mentally prepared. I might choose to go with suicide then get cremated and leave all my belongings to the hobo down the street, he sure could use a trench coat.”

Four, I dress up really fast.

Five, I open my mouth really wide and let out a prolonged high-pitched cry of anger for being such a dirty little promiscuous woman who just’ debased herself by doing something for unworthy motives and I hope that Santa will not inflict a penalty on me as retribution for my bad behavior.

If the stranger next to me in bed has boobs, I definitely do have a fairy godmother that watches over me. More so if she has perky boobs and pouty lips. I would never leave the said strangers house.

If the stranger has boobs and a penis, I will take the time to study this mysterious being, entity, thing while enjoying every single moment of it. I will then decide on whether to kill myself after eating 5 liters of vanilla ice cream with chocolate flakes laced with my very good friend Jack Daniels or to get back into bed and relive the previous night. Who knows, I could have really enjoyed it, I just can’t remember.