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Sunday, October 10, 2004
Mm...
I spent the weekend with fun. Yesterday my mum bought me a basketball! I love her, and she's so effortlessly sweet. I wish I could show my appreciation better... I feel she doesn't know how much I respect her, which is a ton.
But yeah. E came over yesterday, we went to see a gig. Razorlight. Except from them magnanimously offering a half-hour countdown until their appearance (PISS-TAKE), they were good.
And home, we went to bed. In pitch black we fumbled, clothes coming off in a slow dance. I could smell her must, seeping through, driving me crazy. Oh well, fuck parents. In her night I entered her, slowly.
'It's good. Can you even feel anything?'
Pff, no, course I can't. But I can feel that I want you to be happy, and I can hear your cute short whimpering breaths, and I can hear that you want it harder. And when it's easy for me, it's like a workout. And when you're clammy and grippy and I feel cut off, I'll keep going.
And it's really amazing that you like it.
Even though my cock's wrapped in rubber that acts as shrinking tube; like fucking kryptonite to me.
And even though at best I can't feel it and at worst it's like I'm seasick, I'll keep going.
In the morning, I woke up to her, let her sleep. Came back as she held my stuffed toy, did some maths by her bed. Then more sex. I came outside the condom, outside of her. Water-pistolled... Surprising.
Rubber is like... The opposite of an aphrodisiac. I hate it. It sticks to me and strangles me and reduces everything. Fuck.
Fuck every girly magazine that tells people that boys are just lying about reduced sensation. Well, I'm sorry, but no one wants to impregnate their teenage girlfriend, k? It's true. Try eating an ice-cream after melting candle wax onto your tongue... You'll see.
I spent the weekend with fun. Yesterday my mum bought me a basketball! I love her, and she's so effortlessly sweet. I wish I could show my appreciation better... I feel she doesn't know how much I respect her, which is a ton.
But yeah. E came over yesterday, we went to see a gig. Razorlight. Except from them magnanimously offering a half-hour countdown until their appearance (PISS-TAKE), they were good.
And home, we went to bed. In pitch black we fumbled, clothes coming off in a slow dance. I could smell her must, seeping through, driving me crazy. Oh well, fuck parents. In her night I entered her, slowly.
'It's good. Can you even feel anything?'
Pff, no, course I can't. But I can feel that I want you to be happy, and I can hear your cute short whimpering breaths, and I can hear that you want it harder. And when it's easy for me, it's like a workout. And when you're clammy and grippy and I feel cut off, I'll keep going.
And it's really amazing that you like it.
Even though my cock's wrapped in rubber that acts as shrinking tube; like fucking kryptonite to me.
And even though at best I can't feel it and at worst it's like I'm seasick, I'll keep going.
In the morning, I woke up to her, let her sleep. Came back as she held my stuffed toy, did some maths by her bed. Then more sex. I came outside the condom, outside of her. Water-pistolled... Surprising.
Rubber is like... The opposite of an aphrodisiac. I hate it. It sticks to me and strangles me and reduces everything. Fuck.
Fuck every girly magazine that tells people that boys are just lying about reduced sensation. Well, I'm sorry, but no one wants to impregnate their teenage girlfriend, k? It's true. Try eating an ice-cream after melting candle wax onto your tongue... You'll see.
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Girly magazines are no help to anyone. They give us complexes and make us feel ugly, fat and flawed... the last thing theyre qualified to talk on is the deal with blokes and condoms. Its no better for girls with a condom either.. Id rather not do it at all.
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