Thinking About it All

If I could do away with sex and its consequences, I would have been a better man. You see I am caught between this desire to be completely devoid of sexual desire and this temptation to accept sex and regulate its effect on my behaviour.

I think you can call me  a sexual man. The time I was sexually active and had sex with men, I ensured I had sex at least once a week. The men were fun – naked and sexy. We would moan and sigh with passion writ large on our bodies. Oh man! Those were heady days – frolicking for hours on the bed, licking each other’s nipples, sucking mutually, and making love to each other; yes, those days were positively hedonistic. And I did have a streak of longing in me then. I longed for a partner to be with me forever and not go sleeping around.

Well, that did not happen. The men always wanted to have sex with someone new and since I did not know the ropes to foil such sexual antics, I would feel hurt, feel used, and then go sleep with other men. In the end, I turned out to be just like the men I deplored.

Then – one fine day – something happened and I began to be repulsed by my behaviour. Consequently, I stopped it all. And it has been like that for a while.

I do get these impulses to just get out and go sleep around with men at the gay bar. But decency has the better of me now. And I don’t let myself get carried away.

Yet, a part of me longs for nakedness, for some raw uninhibited sex, for some loving, for some intense sex…

Sigh! The Fallen will never leave you in peace, will they?

The Haul

“So tonight then?”
“Alright. Your place or mine?”
“Mine of course. I have the satin you want.”

And so at 9:00, Jane walked into my hall. I wanted to switch the lights off and paw her breasts the moment I seen here there in that negligee of an evening wear, but I staved off that urge.

Instead, I smiled, took her in my arms, and said: “I am glad you made it.”

“Of course, darling,” she cooed in my ears as my lips ran down her neck, “I wanted to see the satin!”

There are women who are silly and there are women who are – to put it bluntly – dumb. Jane imbibes both those qualities and makes it a point to show a third: of saying the wrong thing almost any time.

There I was, pressed close to her warm and luscious curves, wanting to get the feel of her skin and make love to her. And all she remembered was the satin!

Well, she is a blonde anyway. And blondes – by popular opinion – make great bedfelines. I hadn’t come across anyone who spoke of their intellect. Oh some did – they told me that that species had none.

So, I sighed, shut my mouth, and began to undress her.

She has a body that’s supple. Squeeze her arm and it feels like a soft ball of warmth wanting to lay itself on you. Her navel makes me a desperado. I had seen it once when her shirt had flown with the wind that rushed past the taxi-stand a week ago. It was deep, shapely, and breathed a seduction of its own as her naked stomach matched its moves.

Here it was – that navel, that sensual piece of her body that invited my lust inside it. It was for my eyes that day and I let my finger rest in it. She jerked back, and caught my neck in her throbbing palms. I let my drool flow down onto her lips and then sucked it from there. And as I did so, I ripped her gown off and ate her lips…

To be continued…

Inner Conflicts

As I write this, my feelings hover around the border of sexuality and are, most probably, to cross into the land of asexuality.  I think I have spent my sexuality in its entirety. Sex doesn’t excite me – except occasionally. Perhaps, that’s the normal manner in which one is acquainted with feelings of sex: occasionally. I don’t know. It seems so mysterious. I don’t seem to fathom the appropriate amount of sexual hunger I am supposed to exhibit.

Probably, this is a second awakening of my self!

Those Moments Unhindered

At times, I want to just strip and lie naked with several men. The moment I let that thought in my mind, I am all excited and want to not let the vision go away. But the very next second, in walks my rational self and I know the naked vision is a figment of my unbridled lust and passion…

If only lust were thrown in an abyss far far away from Earth, I will have been a monk – a nice gentle holy monk – by now…

On an Afternooon of Spurious Pleasure

Well here I am again. It’s post lunch time and I have not much of a worry to bother about. The To-do list seems manageable and I doubt the boss will explode if I do not finish a thing or two.

I spent a whole afternoon yesterday watching porn. Well, it was porn of both types: gay and straight. On a lazy afternoon at home, I somehow always find myself ending up on xtube.com or gaytube.com or redtube.com or more recently, xvideos.com.

It’s rather easy to access such spurious pleasure online and all it takes is a click of a button and a hungry lusty appetite.

So, I landed up on xvideos.com this past Sunday. And oh! What a treat that Web site is. Erik Everhard performs with all his lust and sexuality in as many as seven or more videos uploaded in the straight section. And then there’s Pavel Novotny, Josh Weston, and several sexy hunks doing each other in the gay section.

Well, till the time I watched them fondle each other and feel every inch of naked skin, I was aroused. Yes, quite frankly, as the naked men and women felt each other and groped and licked and had sex, I was thrilled with my orgasm.

But once I was done, this familiar urge hit me to close the Web site at once. And so I did! It really seems stupid of me to behave so. After all, I was watching them gratifying each other and satisfying my voyeuristic behaviour as well. And it seemed quite selfish that I stopped their performances once I had climaxed and cleaned it all from my thighs and crotch.

Why? Why is it that I cut ties with lust and sexual acts so swiftly as if it were a crime to be associated with them? Probably – and this is what I think maybe the reason – it’s because ever since the time I can remember, sex has never been packed with approval into any of my conversations. It’s always this topic that has to be leered at and referred to indirectly.

Perhaps that may have built an impression of it being not right to be indulged in often. Yes, I know too much sex is not quite a recommendation for one’s well being, but you must know I hardly even have sex. So, I at least should allow myself to allow my eyes to accept the act and take it in and relish it.

Shunning it as if it were a barbarian about to ravage the land is not something I should be encouraging. Don’t you think so?

Lust That Wanders

I am rather weary these days. I have no spunk in me. I feel as if I were a leaf floating around and by sheer luck I don’t seem to have been swallowed by deer prancing in the forest.

Home doesn’t ignite a sense of belonging these days. Well, it does make me come back to it after work, but I don’t feel attached to it. The conversation – now running in circles about the house, the rent, the headaches we are all going through – doesn’t evoke any interest in me. And I so want to be left alone even when I am bang in the middle of a conversation at the dinner table.

As I mentioned earlier, I did stop having sex a while ago. Now, that starvation and the fact that I feel rather lonely and disconnected quite strangely pulls me towards porn of all sorts. I watch straight porn, straight orgies, straight threesomes and homosexual gangbangs as well. Right now, in fact, as I write this, I am aroused thinking of the naked men and women I watched as I sat naked in my chair in my bedroom.

I am pressing my thighs together so as to help my member rise. Whew! I shouldn’t be doing this you know. Ideally, I should be all smiles and be happy that I have a job and a family around me.

Instead, the job and the family change my smiles into frowns and I feel so disheartened. What must I do? Should I turn to sex to feel desired and ingratiated? Should I take a sexual lover and make love to him as and when I feel the need to get naked and bite on a luscious pair of lips?

Or should I just control my lust that is an offshoot of my depressing loneliness and concentrate on reading and other such activities that I know I like to do?

Ah! Yes, I think I must do that. Write, read, write, read, perhaps sing, write, read, sing, and repeat all the three activities as often as I can.

For how else will I stop this rather dull disinterested yet steady wave of an addiction to sleaze from sweeping me away?

One Gone and The Other Remains

I feel so fed up these days. I don’t want to work. I don’t have a plan for the future. And I don’t even seem bothered about it. At times, thoughts do tend to make me worry about my being a bachelor as yet. But that’s just for a while and then they are gone.

I stopped sleeping around a month or so ago. Ever since then, I feel I miss the nakedness of a man next to me. I miss those lips that I would ravage when I slept nude with my lover in bed. But what I don’t miss is the dull stale feeling that would creep onto me after the sex.

The feeling was dull because I knew nothing will arise of this union of flesh. And it was stale because I had been through it so many times before. What’s even worse is that I would tend to get emotionally attached to the guy as I made love to him. That – my fellow brethren – is the worst aspect of having sex with no strings attached. The strings just grow out of thin air and tend to tie you down – especially if the guy is handsome and gentle and seduces you well.

Now saying that the men wanted nothing more than sex is stating the obvious. So I would inevitably feel like a wall of cement after the bout and get all depressed after the initial euphoria that follows sex.

After one such episode, I said to myself: “What good is it if you feel so horribly low once the man leaves you in bed like this? Might as well stop.”

And so I stopped. Yes, I watch porn – straight and gay – and yes, I masturbate to give vent to those feelings of lust and desire, but at the end of it all, I am saved the heinous feeling of uselessness that would haunt me were I to have sex with a man.

The feeling of loneliness – though – still persists.

Fling That Away

Men are so stupid. This guy who has been after me for a year or more now happened to call desperately yesterevening. I was in no mood to meet him but his persistent phone calls broke down my defence and I gave in.

We met at 6:15 in the evening and we drove around. He said he missed me and wants me. And then he added that he loved me. I told him as I sat there straightfaced that I was not about to get swayed by that talk since he was anyway to marry.

“No see,” he said, as he got the car engine to shut up, “I am not sure about that.”
“That,” I said, “is as good as saying you are to marry.”
“Why is life so complicated?”
‘Well it isn’t. It’s simple. You make a choice and then deal with its consequences. Not that you do not know what those consequences are!”

He began to drive again. “I don’t know what to do,” he said, “I cannot say no to marriage.”
“Then you will have to say no to me. If you marry, it changes our equation.”
“It will?”
“Oh yes it will. I won’t be able to meet you like this – for sex.”
Had he to be in love with me, he would have at least felt offended. But no, he went on to the next question : “How about we talking? Will you talk to me if I marry?”
I said yes but I knew I would not. That he would have to realize.

Anyway, he drove on. I had to get off at Sion and he had to go further, to Worli. But before this, we had to pass through the Bandra Kurla complex.

Now lanes in Bandra-Kurla complex – at 7:30 in the evening – are pretty quiet and lonely. In fact, they are more or less deserted. He parked the car at a spot off one such lonely lane, we got into the back seat and began to make out.

“I love you. I love you,” he panted as we tasted each other’s lips.
I ignored that and kept kissing.
Moments later, it was “Marry me marry me. You don’t know how much I want you.” as our tongues searched each other.
“Ho ho ho ho,” I snickered amused that he thought me so daft, “you don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Why is life so complicated?” – this as he was about to let go of his trousers.
“I don’t know. I don’t see it that complicated.” And I let go of my briefs a moment later.

By then, we were making out a little more and he wanted to fuck. I hate that so I ignored that as well. This he took notice of and then decided he had better take what I was giving.

So he climaxed a few minutes later, I took a while to do so, and then we got dressed.

We walked about the area for a while making mundane conversation. I also went through my thoughts and actions and realized all this sex was of no use. It was meaningless, really. I was lusty and so was he. Infact, I caved in to his plea to meet me all because I was lusty. Once the lust passes, I feel sick and repelled by the person who helped me consummate my lust. And I was feeling no different about this fellow either.

I hinted at that as we drove home. I said I was in this phase wherein I was doing away with random sex and was letting my old idea of having sex only with my life partner creep in.

He did realize what I was trying to say and so vehemently opposed my idea. He began to tell me how stupid it was and how I must not control myself and how my hormones would make things difficult for me.

“Well,” I said as I kept a stone face all throughout, “I am doing something that works well for me. This works for me and so I will do it. The rest can go to hell.”

“Don’t punish yourself.”
“Hello? Who is? I was punishing myself by doing things that I thought would do me good. But they haven’t. So it’s best I go back to stuff that made me feel good about myself.”

Now to that he did reply but I had already shut down my hearing system. I somehow managed to turn the topic to something less interesting and kept it at that till I got out of the car at Sion.

“See you soon,” I said and smiled
“Yes see you and he drove on.”

I know I never shall and I hope he knows he never shall, too.