More Cock, Please

By N.S.



More cock, please.

No, that’s not enough. More, more. It’s important that you help me reinforce the stereotype of the sex-obsessed gay man who fucks compulsively and indiscriminately, thereby living an empty and hollow existence in which he is unable to love.

Any orifice will do. Oh, you have genital warts? That’s okay, I do too. And AIDS and every other STD imaginable, which are, of course, punishment for my immoral lifestyle.

You, over there. Yeah, you. You’ll do.

Are you straight? Yes? Shit, that’s great. The fact that you’re having sex with me permits me to brand you as a homosexual, a ‘closet case’ as it were. And everybody knows that the scientifically observed fact of sexuality being fluid and permitting a plethora of activity outside the bounds of standard heterosexuality is bullshit, so come out of the closet already, you fucking faggot.

Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate your cock. As you ram it down my throat, it’s apparent to me that it’s not the act itself that turns me on, so much as the high I get from symbolically possessing aspects of a masculinity that I have denied in myself. For this we can surely blame my father, who never taught me to play baseball.

So now that you’re having sex with me and I’ve brought you down to my level, I can feel, if only for a moment, like being gay isn’t all that bad. As if it isn’t a behavior that I know deep in my soul to be unnatural and against the will of God.

That’s it, come in my mouth. Mmmm.

Okay, next! How about you? Oh, you’re gay? Whatever.

Hey, maybe we can devise some semblance of a mutual relationship, and pretend that we are in love? Perhaps this will provide a brief respite for the crushing knowledge that we are in fact uber-narcissistic man-children, forever slaves to a thumb-sucking mommy complex, and destined to die in loneliness and despair because we can never love anyone as much as we love ourselves?

Anyway, fuck me in the ass.

What—you’re putting on a condom? Jesus, you gotta be kidding me. Do you really think I respect my body and myself enough to want to protect myself from an STD that--heavens forefend--I don’t already possess?

Please. I would consider it an honor to receive your diseased meat and/or the toxic seed contained within. It would only hasten my departure from a world in which I attempt to normalize behaviors that are quite obviously unnatural, exhibiting a denial bordering on psychosis in which I do not see that men were given a penis and women a vagina for a reason, and that homosexual behavior violates the very fabric of human existence and the universe.

Harder, please. Also, keep calling me your cock-hungry fuck puppet. Your continued thrusting and hurling of insults only turns me on more. Oh, it may seem that we’re only role-playing, and the slaps you apply so generously to my face and ass are a fetishistic device used to enhance the sexual relations we are currently enjoying.

But we both know that your hatred is real, and what may seem like an innocent game is actually a serious expression of the hatred you feel for yourself, and my acceptance of this hatred hinges upon my sublimated desire to be punished for the sinful lifestyle that I have chosen, yes chosen, for myself.

Yeah, pump your load into my ass.

Isn’t it depressing to think of all that is wasted in the act we have just completed? Instead of taking part in the beautiful creation of life, we have instead resigned ourselves to a state of suspended adolescence in which we espouse the futile and vile notion that the gay lifestyle is somehow “normal” and “acceptable.”

Your precious seed of life has become little more than excrement, to be eventually shat out of my bowels and cast into the sewer, the sewer where our kind most assuredly belongs.

Oh well. On to the next one.

What, you don’t want to fuck me?

Well fuck you!

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