It doesn’t make the slightest bit of sense when you think about it. Two people coming together for an act of insertion. It’s awkward, at times uncomfortable and takes a while to ‘start’. It’s miles away from graceful: on your knees staring at the wall or on your back staring at your knees; the figure of him appearing through your thighs like a jack-in-the-box. But still, I want to get fucked.
There are a million different reasons why and why not to but the foremost among them is pleasure. But it’s more than that. Who wants sex that’s just external? How then do you get to know anyone? And isn’t that what it’s about? Isn’t that why I want to get fucked?
Unlike when, as a baby gay with a superglue hard-on, if you’re not effeminate (or rather if you think you’re not effeminate) you’re basically a straight man in the sack; you’re doing the fucking, you’re on top you powerful thing you, and everything’s alright with the world. Having dealt with being this tough baby gay for so long, you’re not ready to get fucked, to let someone inside of you because you’re so masculine. As you get older, you probably will fuck for different reasons, most of them pleasure I’m sure, but at the moment, I don’t want to hear about your issues, I want to get fucked.
By your cock that can perform magical feats alongside your hands (resting squarely on my shoulders like an architect’s dream) and you’re on top; covering every bit of me with the weight of you. Nerve endings being active in this passivity. Poppered-up blood vessels are beating to the rhythm of a bad dance track. Memory is an aphrodisiac and now I really want to get fucked.
Because I’m in need of pleasure and right now, topping is just an ejaculation exercise. I want you to make me cum without me touching myself. I want your attention focused on me for however long. I want to feel the depth and sensation. Obviously, I want to get fucked.
You see, it’s not about submission but control (although both are pie-chart fragments of the why, but in the moment, who cares?). I grab you and feed you into me. It doesn’t matter that you should know exactly where to apply your pressure – one of the benefits of being the same sex, surely? – because it’s easily rectified, leading to a life, a night, a short period of time where the pleasure’s condensed but completely worth it. Rough or loving, fleeting or nightly, with a lover or a trick, I want to get fucked.
It can be a calm blue ocean, a catharsis. Where the minutiae fall away. You can get drawn into that, growing from a baby gay into a jaded gay. It will wash over you like the sack on your head in a kidnapping and you will appear externally to be a cliché; a sad fed-up queen with her eyes closed, avoiding everything except the cock in her mouth. Everyone needs to get out of themselves occasionally. People drink and take drugs for these reasons, and some fuck. We’ve all done it, and some more than others, but to attach shame onto it would be ludicrous. Some days being a bottom is much easier than being a person. But despite that having been the motivation from time to time, that’s not the reason why I want to get fucked.
It’s because it’s natural. Mr Supreme Being (or lack thereof) is a clever duck creating somewhere that will fit cocks of all shapes and sizes. Man is a curious beast and all manner of items, including the cock and its disciples have explored the lovingly receptive orifices we have to our use. The mouth, the ass and the glory hole; all of His creations. As is the g-spot. The little place inside you working solely to get you off. Life is a series of passions and absences, phalli and holes. And I want to get fucked.
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Hiatus still active, found this from a while back, and thought I’d share. Working on new things. Play went great. This month has been so busy. Type soon. x
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