Don’t believe the hype. The fire’s not as hot as it looks.

by October 1, 2009 0 comments

Yeah sure, it’s true, I got turned on, I got burned out and I got learned too. That’s just the way it goes. But who’s to say whether I minded the burn. And who’s to say the burning was a bad thing anyway? Pain is in the nerves of the feeler. Much like pleasure. And since pain and pleasure seem to bleed into one another, the pain of the fire can almost be called pleasure…the pleasure is in the pain. Pleasure begat the pain. Pleasure was the cause and pain the effect. Fire-burn-pleasure-yearn.

Mine is the story of the man-child who never learned that fire is hot, that hot burns, that burns hurt and that hurts pleasurable. It’s that initial flame is the game that’s got me hooked. It’s this yearning for the burning, it’s this craving for the misbehaving. The fire of addiction is an affliction of my soul. It singes my edges and brings me to my knees always begging please, baby please. When temptation comes a-knocking on my door, (knock-knock) dressed as a hot red head with C’s way up high and tight and a fire burning between her legs just dying for a lying in the sack. (knock-knock) The Asian girl who has a twinkle in her cat like eyes when she says “Hi” from behind the convenient store counter. (knock-knock) The big boned bimbo bottled blonde who’s fat tits push out of her push-up bra and says someday I can tap that fat ass, if I’m lucky. (knock-knock) The studiously bespeckled sex toy dealer with loud orgasmic blasts that lasts and lasts and echoes in the predawn light. (knock-knock) Temptation keeps a’knockin’ and I can’t help but reach for the flame, I am powerless. The misbehavin’ is what I’m cravin’.

Bad lil’ boys need the joys of wicked scenes and slickened toys, things of wet dreams but this time, just this once, I won’t wake up. I can’t wake up. I shant wake up. The beast in me must nourish the lust and bust this gord wide open. I’m as stiff as a board and I dip my head down with a tube up my nose and sniffing the white rose of the devil herself as she holds the flame behind her fine behind and just as I am savorin’ the flavorin’, she’ll burn me to the bone and I’ll like it just fine.

Believe the hype. The fire’s as hot as it looks.

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