Remember your Church days? Remember when oh, once/twice-a-week, you found yourself sitting in Sunday school? Or sat in the sanctuary, hearing and actually comprehending most of the words the preacher preached (be he baptist deacon or the pope himself) and yet, out of a sort of latent precursor to the insomnia-like daze you would soon find glowing solace in on your now frequent, lonely nights of agnostic adulthood, you sat in service/mass/chapel, and the words entered your ears, and whether by choice, or by simple lack of commercial interruption, it was damn near impossible to retain a single verse. Mom and Dad would ask me sometimes, what did you learn from the sermon/Sunday school today? Jonah, I would reply, because in all honestly, that was all I could remember, well...I shouldn't say in ALL honesty.
Adam and Ever were naked. Somehow Cain, one of the four known people on earth, killed his brother, was banned from his parents' presence and was still able to "beget" a whole slew of kids. Adam begat Seth begat Enosh begat begat begat begat begat. Abraham was old as fuck when he knocked up Sarah. I remembered those things.
DAMNIT!!! My child mind would ponder, WHY ARE ALL THESE THINGS SO SHOCKING? WHAT THE FUCK IS A 'BEGAT'? CAN'T OLD PEOPLE HAVE BABIES TOO? WHAT THE FUCK AM I MISSING HERE AND WHY DOES EVERYONE LAUGH WHEN THE PREACHER RAISES HIS EYEBROWS AND SAYS "YA-NA-WA-A-MEEN?"
Then I found it. And it was good.
The problem with all that build up, and believe me, there was at least a solid decade of it that I can actually recall, is that the mystery of it began to outweigh the reality of it, and that can fuck a fuck-up up. The thrill of the "sinful" connotation takes the real risks and hidden pleasures that have been alluded to, but haven't been addressed, and allow the the imagination to fill the void of "what could be" between those legs, beneath that skirt, behind those tight, tight jeans. When really all it is a fatty pouch covered in prickly/scraggly hair that gets kinda gooey and has the ability to SUCK YOUR SOUL OUT THROUGH YOUR COCK!
I wish someone would have told me that when I was five. Then when I was IN MY FUCKING LATE TEENS I wouldn't have been so stunned when I discovered internet porn and realized women wanted to FUCK ME. It would have made my life a little easier if someone had told me chicks aren't precious vessels of God's glory and wonder, but are in fact, made of chemicals, and probably have an abusive/absent/retarded father, and that if they like you enough will scratch the protection and let you make HUGE FUCKING MISTAKES all over/inside of them, FOR FREE.
On a side note, you know the clit? The what? The clit. The what? The CLIT. OH! THE CLIT! Yeah. FAVORITE FLAVOR OF ANYTHING EVER. They should have clit-flavored candy. Well, lemme qualify that, as to not confused the inexperienced.
i'm trying to describe what vagina tastes like
can you help at all?
it's a subtle taste
unless it's not clean
then stay away
DON'T REMIND ME
ya know actually a little bit like really good tuna, the sashimi sushi kind, not cooked when it gets all fishy
with some lemon maybe
just a hint
maybe some mushroom
but fresh ones
didn't think it would be that simple
dude i think about stuff like this waaay too much
rofl, that's awesome
that's why i like you dude
there need to be more people pondering the important questions in life
"how would i describe the taste of a quality vagina?"
it's of the utmost importance
too many guys think going down is gross
and then they condition some girls to feel uncomfortable about it
and it's just wrong
it is wrong.
Anyway, you get the idea. And the clit's the lemony part. I kinda/don't really like to think/pretend actual intercourse should be reserved exclusively as an exercise in intimacy nowadays, as opposed to a recreational or score-based endeavor, and that's because my hands work a lot faster than any vagina I've ever come in contact with. It's only if I want "discourse between our bodies" that sex becomes the language. Because we argue all the fucking time anyway, why can't I argue with my cock? My cock is extremely convincing. At least more convincing than my arguments, for the most part.
The thing is that I don't get(understand) it, and I don't want to get(understand) it, and I don't need to get(understand) it, it's just nice to know it's a mystery in spite of the absurdity of the false mystery it was all built up to be. And I don't have any fetishes besides well-lubricated sugarwalls, attached to vocal, responsive, proud owners of a pair of squishy-tits. So viva la vagina. Oh, and the "female orgasm"? Myth.
I actually like the way "vagina" sounds. And I guess that goes for the onomatopoeia, "squish" too, depending on the context.
Today, after having sex all morning, my GF came all over my black slacks just before my parents pulled up to her apartment building to pick us up to got to church. FML.
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- ▼ March 2009 (65)