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I Pity Single People

I pity single people. My pity does not come from being happily involved but from knowing the miserable and sometimes humiliating experiences single people have to go through. When you are single and looking for something that will last a night, several or indefinitely; you are at the mercy of uncertainty. Half the time, you are thrown into situations where you do not know what to expect.

Once, I had been set up by a friend with someone who would be, in his words, “perfect” for me. Reluctantly, I went on the date. It was a beautiful man with the best taste in literature, music and films. He even held his own in our debate about why it is important for men to also identify as feminists, and what the limitations of that were. Hell, I was excited at the possibility that this was going to be the man I would raise dogs with, in a small townhouse somewhere outside Cape Town. Dinner went so well that we were the last to leave the restaurant. When he was dropping me off, I invited him in for a drink. As soon as the door closed, he lunged toward me and had his soft mouth on mine like he was drinking from a well after a long time in the desert. Yes, I was looking forward to another glass of wine. However, the tall, dark and beautiful glass of caramel man that he was; I did not mind that he would be quenching my thirst. After a few frisky minutes which left us both half naked – exposing his sculpted torso and my average form, – I knew that he was what I had to have. Everything in me screamed that I had to have him – by everything, I mean my raging erection and the realisation that I had not been with anyone for four whole months. The feeling of his throbbing phallic glory pushed up against mine in a gentle thrust, made it impossible to resist going all the way. It felt like my blood was rushing through my body with no way out. This was a man who knew how to turn someone the fuck on. He lit my fire like no one ever had before. He planted kisses on my neck with half-bites that sent my toes into a raging curl. My nipples hardened when the cold wetness of his tongue teased them. He was taunting me. Forcing me to beg him to go where he was needed the most - where the blood rushed, robbing my brain of any ability to reason out of this situation. Something – I want to say, instinct – had me throw him against the sofa off of me to taunt him as he had me. His hardened nipples seemed the best place for my naughty mouth to start. “Oh, FUCK!” was the first most beautiful thing I made him cry. My mouth making its way to his navel area, I was determined to have him beg for IT. I knew I had him where I wanted him. It seemed that I had upped the torture when only my tongue went up and down his long shaft. And when my mouth and throat finally decided it was okay to host his manhood, he squealed and dug his fingertips into the back of my neck. One hand pushing my head forward and backwards and the other begging me to stop. His thrust was reaching the back of my throat and he held on with the eagerness of a predator that would not loosen its grip. He was clawing harder at my back in a way that gave me more pleasure than pain. After a few savoury minutes of pre-cum, thrusting and clawing, we both knew that we had to be on a hunt for French letters. Sex had been the last thing on my mind when I went on the date, but this just felt right. He was the perfect gentleman. It all just felt organic. And my body needed it. “I don’t have a condom” I said trying to catch my breath. He motioned for me to get his wallet on the coffee table. As he rummaged through it, a gold ring fell on him.

Silence fell too, for what felt like a long time. There was what looked like a wedding band on his torso and a condom between his fingertips. For someone who said a lot that night, his unwillingness mention the ring that was hidden in wallet seemed strange. So when he put the wrapper between his teeth to tear it open, I shook my head. “Is it because I am married?” he asked. Well, truth is, I do not give a damn about his marriage. I care about what I am responsible for. As a person, I believe I am responsible for the evil I put out in the world. I am not going to help deceive a woman with her man that carries condoms to his dates with other men. And if I am going to be sleeping with someone that belongs to someone else, I deserve to know. I deserve to choose it. When you are single and meet someone nice, you can never be too sure if it’s someone that is for the taking or to be borrowed from someone else. The hottest blind date you have ever had could be married to some woman who is taking care of his three adorable kids. And other times you end up having sex you wish you never had. You just never know who you meet when you’re single and looking. I am glad that, I have found someone since those days. He is honest and he is my best friend. If you are single, good luck out there.

Cloud Mouth

Chasm of desire and boundless eaphoria

Beckoning m lustful eyes

With your lips to bend my will.

Hypnotic in thier beauty,

You lure me closer and pull my strings.

Like a puppet, I aim to please -

to satisfy my master’s unholy commands.

I am an object to a hedonist’s thrill.

I look to the heavens and see the clouds,

to feel thier lush and warming moist.

Every inch of my body begins to quiver

when your phallic glory makes its throbbing known.

Infected by your heavenly joy,

I begin to feel a pulse in my loins

[Side note: I never got to finish writing this piece. This was the first draft. I hope I will finish it one day, and publish a polished/finished product =)

Oh, I wrote it the day after I met my current lover. =)]

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