June

I woke up hungover in Nashville today.

It was hot as hell and I caught one of those Southern cockroaches in my room.

Most of the day was spent thinking about you.

I felt sick and terrible.

Puked three times and fell asleep while watching The Shining, of all things.

Met this mom last night who wants to fuck me.

She was a good kisser.

All the pills I took didn’t mix well with the alcohol.

You texted me and I texted you back.

I’ve been ghosting people on Tinder, but I always text you back.

Weird but true: wanted to ask your advice about this mom.

Saw some good porn.

Time for bed again.

July

I could use a good shower, but I know that if I take one, I am going to jerk off, and I don’t want to do that. Cumming is easily the worst part about sex. It forces you to stop, to step back and let all the wondrous feelings you were having fade into memories. I wish I could never ever cum and just fuck you forever. I told you today that “my emotions and my perversions are melding and overwhelming me and right now you exist more in my head than anywhere else on earth,” and it’s true. But all my feelings are but clichés, while my perversions are innovative, as you know. How desperately I want to hear you say bad things to me. Terrible things, unconscionable things.

August

We fucked again, as your sphincter has perhaps reminded you. I realized how embarrassed you are about it. It hadn’t occurred to me before that you would have to be pretty bold to ask a boy you just met to do to you the things I do. Boys often think girls have it so easy, that they can always find a fuck when they need one. But it is not so simple. Women are such complex creatures; they must be respected and dominated simultaneously. Both teased and indulged. And perhaps the most important dichotomy of all: violated, but left pristine. Male sexuality is ever threading these lines, doing its best to clumsily intertwine, juggle, and wed each duality at once. It would seem that I do it well.

There was a moment in between positions where you were lying on your back on the edge of the bed and I was eating you back to front. First the sweet hazelnut of your asshole, then the deep honey of your pussy, up to the fire alarm of your clit. Hazelnut, honey, and ring the bell; repeat. You got to talking, the way you only ever do when you’re really worked up. You said, “You get all of my holes. Tonight. Every hole. Violate each of my holes. Make them yours.” I took it as a cue, pulled my face out, and stood up to look at you. “I’ve already violated each of your holes, and I am going to violate each and every one plenty times more before you sleep. See?” And I flashed my pinky before sliding it up your ass. Before it had even gone all the way up, you had your mouth open. I pulled out and your lips were around it in no time. “How’s that for violating all your holes?” And with that you spit out my pinky, looked me in the eye and said, “Rape me. Rape the other hole.” My cock dove for your pussy and your eyes rolled into the back of your head like you were having a seizure. Don’t take that the wrong way; it’s always nice to see my work appreciated.

So I fucked you for a few minutes, then pulled out and had you deepthroat my cock until you puked all over my balls. I’ve always loved that sensation. Warm, soft vomit feels good when it suddenly rushes onto a sensitive part of your body. A sloppy blowjob with a little puke is quite nice. We cleaned up and took a break. I think we smoked a cigarette or two. When we went back at it, we set you up in a nice nightgown with no bra or panties. You got on your back again and started reading a book, Aristophanes, I think. I took that toy and slowly worked it all the way up your ass. After a few inches, I let it rest there and just started toying with it a bit. Then I started sucking on your tits while I played with it. You ignored me as much as you could and kept reading. I tore apart those nice tits all while keeping your ass at attention. We must have kept this up for 20 minutes. Then you said you had to pee, and you said it to invite me to come up with something to do about it.

It was arranged that you would not be allowed to pee until you cleaned off the toy entirely. You sat down on the toilet naked with your big eyes on full display. I held the toy out and your head moved towards it but I snapped it back in time.

Are you gonna clean this off for me?

Yes!

What are you gonna clean?

My shit.

Say more, use your words.

I’m gonna clean my own shit off my toy so that it’s clean. Then I’ll be allowed to pee.

Okay. Stick your tongue out please.

You did with that look of incredible innocence that you have. I poked your tongue with just the tip of the toy.

Please give me more. I really have to pee.

Well, that’s all well and good, but you would clean this off for me even if you didn’t have to pee.

And you cleaned that toy marvelously. You licked and sucked every inch of it with your hand between your legs, masturbating on a full bladder. You thanked me at the end, and I gave you permission to pee. It started to trickle out of you and I grabbed your long hair and threw your head down on my dick. And as you pissed, I fucked your face as hard I could, my blue balls aching harder than ever before. Some of my fingers reached down and used that piss to lube themselves before going up your ass. In that moment, you had piss rushing out of you as your ass was fingered and your face fucked. I slapped your pretty face with my soiled hand and came down your throat until you gagged and I pulled back. The second half of my load sprayed across your face and then down onto your tits. It all happened so fast you still hadn’t finished pissing. In the heat of the moment, I made my hand into toilet paper and fed it to you while I stroked the last beads of cum out of my cock.

And that wasn’t everything that happened, not even close. You know all this obviously. I recount it all because it is like a dream to me now. Like I was blackout drunk during the entire shooting of a movie I acted in and then watched the finished product stoned. It’s all familiar but distant.

While you could find millions of men depraved enough to do all this to you, I get why you don’t. That’s all personal. So personal. A kind of god. Sex, I think, was the first god. Before Zeus and certainly before Jesus, there was just fucking. The French call the orgasm “the little death,” but they have it precisely backwards: orgasming is a little god, a little church, a little spiritual revelation. Must be why all religions hate fucking. Fucking is their most obvious competition; it is the god within each of us. And while men are polytheists, women are monotheists. There can only be one god, or god can only be shared with one other person. Something like that. That’s why you miss me so much. That’s why you still love me so much. You don’t know who else you can share this god with. You can’t even be sure who else knows of this god. What you want is the god in me, the god we can create together.

But god is not enough. There’s more to me than all that, and you don’t love that part anymore. It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last. But fuck.

Though it is not entirely unjust. Sex between the sexes contains many secrets, all of them awful. Women, for instance, are always looking to level up. Men, meanwhile, would do what they do to their significant other to just about anybody. I do bad things to you, yes. But I would do them to another as well, even if you wouldn’t. I am a polytheist. You do not know this, perhaps. I wonder what you would make of our god should you ever learn.