As the years have rolled by my kinkiness has deepened like a river full of sexual sludge. Or perhaps it flows like the rush of eros-addled BDSM Bass heading upstream to spawn in a placid pool of perversion…
Bottom line, the acts I would reallllllllly like to indulge in involve those things that I think might no. 1, kill you or no. 2, lead to an open and forthwright conversation with your wife about this new STD you’ve contracted and perhaps given her. Immediately after which, she cradles you in her arms and jams a fork in the back of your neck and starts vigorously trying to sever your spine or at least make putting on a dress shirt chafe.
I remember the first time I looked through a microscope in 8th or 9th grade. I saw those squirming entities and I immediately developed low grade OCD on cleanliness. Later on, as I read about Howard Hughes and his mania vis a vis germs, my first thought was…dude…how sensible! So, combine the two and as my sexual addiction took full flower, I was hobbled. (not in the bdsm sense, which might actually be cool but in the metaphysical and logistical sense…)
If I stick this there and let it become exposed to that….the being that is moi may die a hideous and prolonged cessation of life dance. I’m still appalled that I’m not immortal. Althought I think my dog and I might actually live forever. We’re neater than most folks. Then the actual acts themselves, that in my head stirred my other head, left me going…my tongue is actually going to be placed in that particular orifice….ewwww.
So, it leaves my fascination with cuckoldry on the mental meltdown shelf. It gets me thrashing when I am taunted with it…..but in terms of clean-up detail after the fact, I’m back looking in that microscope going, damn…if it would all just stop wiggling. And as a fluffer…there again…pretty hot in my ricocheting thoughts….but let me get lab results first, second and perhaps every minute and a half to put my mind at ease.
And finally, the Olympus of woo hoo tease and denial scenarios…ass worship. In grand concept, parting those lovely cheeks and diving in to clean up my leavings or those of someone else or just rimming for the grand giggles of it…oh my god! I’m wide-eyed and smiling just doing the pondering. But offered the posterior of a number of nubile lasses that are tripping through my brain right now…I’m looking at my WWHD bracelet. Mr. Hughes would back peddle, grab a kleenex and dab at imaginary microscopic globules of demon somethings.
So to my science teacher, Mr. V and to the man who brought us the Spruce Goose, a big thank you. I may have been robbed of some actual experiences….but I’m not hauling around any virulent hangnail from hell “thangs” in my little ol’ Llano Estacado personal eco-system.
