Tormented by Mommy
on tuesday evening i decided to do something that I have not done in awhile: go out on a 'school night'. After a few pints of beer at two random heterosexual watering HOLES, I headed down to the lower east side for spencer's weekly party with David, Bretton, and Alyssa. People got messy. Bretton drank a lot and confessed to his most recent sexual escapades, much to the enjoyment of David, who began laughing uncontrollably after someone said, "Yeah, we've been fucking....a lot." Nothing too exciting happened, but I felt entertained for the majority of the evening. Matt showed up completely obliterated, which makes me uncomfortable, but what's a boy to do?
the next morning, I woke up with a headache and decided not to go to class. 'Fuck it,' I thought. 'I haven't even read the fucking book yet. and i have a headache and it's all ridiculous anyway. i choose sleep.' Fell asleep for a few hours only to be awakened by Jamie's return and subsequent rummaging frantically through the apartment for something. Sadly, my first thought was, "Christ, did he lose his vicodin?" Sad, so sad. But alas, he did not lose any anesthetizing substance, but simply wanted to find some batteries. I sat up to see where these batteries were being placed....something pink....something long and pink.
"I just bought a vibrator from the pharmacy down the street." Hrmmm....
He began by tickling my asshole with its vibrating head, spitting on it for lube. A surge of pleasure hit my prostate as he stuck the head of it in. I wanted more. I rolled over and threw the lube at him as an indicator of what I wanted. After greasing it up, he switched the vibrator to 'low,' and began shoving it in. I never realized how accustomed I have become to having a phallic object stuck in my ass until he slid about 7 inches of that bad boy in me without me even flinching. Once he hit the seven inch mark, I ordered him to switch to maximum vibration. With my legs up in the air like goalposts, he turned the knob and sent me flying. My feet began twitching in the air. Tingling sensations flooded my head. I closed my eyes and continued to see swirls of light, dancing on my eyelids. I reached for my cock to jerk off, and before I knew it, my chest bucked, i let out an ear shattering grunt, and shot all over my chest. heaven.
For some time, I denied the extent of the amount of pleasure I recieve from anal penetration. Perhaps I did not want to be viewed as the 'bitch' of the relationship, validating the stereotype that gays fall into mock hetero relationships by assigning male and female roles in the bedroom. maybe i fear emasculation. who knows. it's time to confess: I love getting fucked. Yeah, a lot of the time i get fucked because of laziness, but that's irrelevent because as soon as his dick is in me, I feel good. Granted, I enjoy putting it to Jamie just as much, but I refuse to deny my love of prostate stimulation. I feel as if I have been restrained by an inherent need to prove my masculinity and dominance. performative nature of gender, butler, blah blah blah. for the most part i find her too deterministic, but I'm slowly beginning to accept her as I come to an understanding of my fear of performing gendered behaviors labeled 'female.' Could my hatred of a significant amount of queers stem from my own insecurities about my gender performance? When I see an blatantly effeminate queer, I believe that I might immediatly dismiss them for representing all that I hate about myself. It's the fucking Midwest again, I know it. When I returned home freshman year for thanksgiving, I showed my mother some photos of me in my halloween costume. Her FIRST response:
"You look like a girl." What in the fuck does that MEAN? Do i have tits and a cunt? Can you see that through my costume? what exactly should I, as a man, look like? Perhaps she would have been happier if I came home with pictures of me dressed as a lumberjack. "So you were a lumberjack for halloween, honey?" "No mom, that's not halloween, it was 'Butch in the Bushes' night at Roxy. part of me would love to go to chicago this thanksgiving, dressed as a trannie....just to upset my mother. god, that woman haunts me. i believe her to be the root of my gender performace issues.
When I was 8, she pulled me close to her and said, "Ryan, if you die before me, I will grieve myself to death." She has lost all concept of reality. Television and films dictate her entire existence. She watches Lifetime channel movies and desires the misery she sees. sometimes i feel that she wishes her life would revolve around her suffering, just so that she could be given the attention that she, for some fucked up reason, believes that she deserves. Perhaps she received too much attention as a child. an uncle snuck into her room some nights and fingered her, so now she craves that kind of perverse attention as an adult. she no longer has the ability to be molested by a dirty uncle, so now hunts other sources of pain.
i need therapy.
On vicodin, jamie has no sexual appetite. I have not had intercourse in a week. Help me.....
post going nowhere. I'm done.
the next morning, I woke up with a headache and decided not to go to class. 'Fuck it,' I thought. 'I haven't even read the fucking book yet. and i have a headache and it's all ridiculous anyway. i choose sleep.' Fell asleep for a few hours only to be awakened by Jamie's return and subsequent rummaging frantically through the apartment for something. Sadly, my first thought was, "Christ, did he lose his vicodin?" Sad, so sad. But alas, he did not lose any anesthetizing substance, but simply wanted to find some batteries. I sat up to see where these batteries were being placed....something pink....something long and pink.
"I just bought a vibrator from the pharmacy down the street." Hrmmm....
He began by tickling my asshole with its vibrating head, spitting on it for lube. A surge of pleasure hit my prostate as he stuck the head of it in. I wanted more. I rolled over and threw the lube at him as an indicator of what I wanted. After greasing it up, he switched the vibrator to 'low,' and began shoving it in. I never realized how accustomed I have become to having a phallic object stuck in my ass until he slid about 7 inches of that bad boy in me without me even flinching. Once he hit the seven inch mark, I ordered him to switch to maximum vibration. With my legs up in the air like goalposts, he turned the knob and sent me flying. My feet began twitching in the air. Tingling sensations flooded my head. I closed my eyes and continued to see swirls of light, dancing on my eyelids. I reached for my cock to jerk off, and before I knew it, my chest bucked, i let out an ear shattering grunt, and shot all over my chest. heaven.
For some time, I denied the extent of the amount of pleasure I recieve from anal penetration. Perhaps I did not want to be viewed as the 'bitch' of the relationship, validating the stereotype that gays fall into mock hetero relationships by assigning male and female roles in the bedroom. maybe i fear emasculation. who knows. it's time to confess: I love getting fucked. Yeah, a lot of the time i get fucked because of laziness, but that's irrelevent because as soon as his dick is in me, I feel good. Granted, I enjoy putting it to Jamie just as much, but I refuse to deny my love of prostate stimulation. I feel as if I have been restrained by an inherent need to prove my masculinity and dominance. performative nature of gender, butler, blah blah blah. for the most part i find her too deterministic, but I'm slowly beginning to accept her as I come to an understanding of my fear of performing gendered behaviors labeled 'female.' Could my hatred of a significant amount of queers stem from my own insecurities about my gender performance? When I see an blatantly effeminate queer, I believe that I might immediatly dismiss them for representing all that I hate about myself. It's the fucking Midwest again, I know it. When I returned home freshman year for thanksgiving, I showed my mother some photos of me in my halloween costume. Her FIRST response:
"You look like a girl." What in the fuck does that MEAN? Do i have tits and a cunt? Can you see that through my costume? what exactly should I, as a man, look like? Perhaps she would have been happier if I came home with pictures of me dressed as a lumberjack. "So you were a lumberjack for halloween, honey?" "No mom, that's not halloween, it was 'Butch in the Bushes' night at Roxy. part of me would love to go to chicago this thanksgiving, dressed as a trannie....just to upset my mother. god, that woman haunts me. i believe her to be the root of my gender performace issues.
When I was 8, she pulled me close to her and said, "Ryan, if you die before me, I will grieve myself to death." She has lost all concept of reality. Television and films dictate her entire existence. She watches Lifetime channel movies and desires the misery she sees. sometimes i feel that she wishes her life would revolve around her suffering, just so that she could be given the attention that she, for some fucked up reason, believes that she deserves. Perhaps she received too much attention as a child. an uncle snuck into her room some nights and fingered her, so now she craves that kind of perverse attention as an adult. she no longer has the ability to be molested by a dirty uncle, so now hunts other sources of pain.
i need therapy.
On vicodin, jamie has no sexual appetite. I have not had intercourse in a week. Help me.....
post going nowhere. I'm done.