EVOLOUTION OF MY DISCONTENT

I have recently publicly been pondered the roots of my current sexual obsession, as my disease reaches epidemic proportions.  I was told all my adult life that I had "peeked" at age 18 and that it would be downhill from then on.  That dear reader, is a gender based myth perpetuated by females that are not sexually exciting enough to receive regular doses of vitamin D.

As I have accomplished my esoteric goals, I find myself craving sex more, seeking out sexual partners with a greater sense of urgency than I ever felt before.  And when I do do it, I try and make it last for hours and hours and hours.  Yes I said hours and hours and hours! Because as my readers should well know, I chew everything I bite.

Writing this blog is in part a journey of self discovery.  It's therapy for me.  Often, as I'm writing, I find answers to issues that I struggle with.  It's not mentally healthy to keep certain things to oneself.

The person I shared my most intimate secrets with died, in June 2005.  The Doctor and I talked about every manner of thing.  Our conversation most often focused on women.  We both love women. We love every aspect of womanhood and we made every attempt to covet women, without sacrificing our manhood.  That's why we became the Lezbian Brothers.

We were always recognized as "men's men" among our peers and friends, so we were never afraid to explore our feminine side.  Understand, that I am describing an intellectual premise that only manifested itself physically when we were dealing with own women.  And our dealings with our women was something that we discussed only after the particular relationship was over.  Those discussions allowed us avoid making the same mistake twice and we ultimately evolved into men that understood how to treat a woman well.

As I have discussed in previous blogs (see "Desire") that I am in a process of recovery.  I liken my recovery to a computer that is being reformatted. I lost a lot of "data". That recovery involves a lot of self analysis to try and avoid, in the future, some of the pitfalls I encountered, in the past.

I am trying to figure out why I became such a freak.  I never intended to be such an unmitigated slut.  I think it may be a side effect of being a writer but that too easy of an excuse.

The Origins Of My Malcontent  

I grew up in a very conservative household.  My mother was southern Methodist and the daughter of a minister.  My father Detroit born and raised, cynical, superstitious and Sanctified.  They always had sex behind closed doors and were very quiet.  I was grown before I figured out why I would catch my daddy emerging from the bedroom without his shorts on weekends.

I also have an older brother, six years my senior. He had a very healthy interest in matters sexual by 12 or 13 and never passed up an opportunity to share his knowledge with me.  I just liked women, from a very early age.  I did not need to know why. In fact, I'm puzzled as to why I still like women, given some of my experiences with them, but that's another blog.

By age 9, I was becoming obsessed with women.  It started with looking at pictures of women in Ebony, Jet and later Playboy.  At church and at grandma's house, the women would smash my little face into their ample bosoms.  There were buxom teachers and overdeveloped girls that had reached puberty, at elementary school.  Women and girls were all over the neighborhood and we imported them into our household.  We had housekeepers because both of my parents worked.

My older brother fueled that fire.  One day he called me into the bathroom while he was in the tub.  He told me to "watch this."  He proceeded to pull on his dick over and over until it spit out this white stuff.  I thought he had hurt himself.  My brother was what you call an exhibitionist.  He never passed up an opportunity to show off his burgeoning libidinal urges.  One night when my parents we were having a party, my father's second cousin foolishly left his daughter in the room with me, my brother and our neighbor to watch television.  As soon as the door closed, my brother and my neighbor began pulling on our cousin.  She eventually gave in.  My brother jumped between her legs and began smashing his pelvis against her stomach.  He got faster and faster then stopped abruptly.  He jumped up and zipped his pants up real quickly.  Our cousin sat up and straightened out her clothing.  The three of them sat there and continued watching television, like nothing had ever happened.  I continued to feign sleep.

I really did not understand what I had witness.  I new in advance what was to happen because my brother the consummate planner, had strategize with me and our neighbor, earlier that day.  Still, it did not make real sense to me.  At about 10, I was having lustful feelings for a few of my teachers and our housekeeper with the mammoth ass that had a six part movement when she walked (SEE THE SNOW QUEEN), but I still didn't get it.

Sex and Problems, Problems and Sex 

When I was 12, my parents broke up.  Me, my mother and younger brother moved in with my mother's cousin and husband temporarily.  Cousin May did not have children. In her late thirties, she got a little crazy.  Before we moved into her house, she would come to our house, sit in the kitchen and act real goofy.  In retrospect, I suppose that her husband, Sam was not on his job.  They had been together, since she was 15.  Sam was right in the middle of his mid-life crisis, had a pocket full of money, cocaine, and being from the south, a penchant for forbidden fruit-white women.

Poor neglected Cousin May looked a lot like Pam Greer. We had been living in her house for a few weeks.  One night, we were preparing to go to sleep.  My mother and little brother were sitting on the couch.  I was sitting on the love seat.  Cousin May came out of the bathroom, into the hallway, in her underwear.  My mom and little brother could not see her, from where they sat.  Cousin May came almost parallel to the living room portal and stood there looking at me.  She casually removed her brassiere, allow those monsters to bounce out and slowly folded her arms across her chest and began gently rubbing her arms.

I sat there frozen in my seat, looking like the Napoleon android that knew that Decker (harrison ford) was about to get his ass kicked by Tris (darryl hanna) in Blade Runner.  I pulled my eyes away from her titties.  Cousin May had a very peculiar look on her face.  I looked at those massive titties again, the looked over at my mother who was totally unaware of what was going on.  Cousin May stood like that for a full minute before she slipped her night gown over her head and came into the living room.  I was well into my thirties before I told my mother about the incident.  Momma didn't think much of it.  She had always thought her cousin to be crazy.  Why else would she have run off with that abusive fool that she married after Sam died.

I blame my love of big titties on my Cousin May.  I must also state that I have never had a sexual interest in anyone that remotely resembles my mother.  I can't say that about women the resemble Cousin May.  I was and remain pretty fucked up over the incident I just described.  Cousin May is to blame for my tendency to tear women's brassiere off with my teeth and suck their titties until they wrinkle!  I have to blame someone.

The Ethos Of My Perversion                                           

We moved to the near west side the second time we left daddy.  The area we lived in was nothing like the neighborhood we had grown up in.  Prostitutes lined the main drag at rush hour.  When I was riding with my brother, the hos would try to get in the car with us, when we stopped at street lights.  At the middle school, I attended for one semester the neighborhood girls would wantonly discuss their sexual exploits in front of us sexually inexperienced little boys, in the lunchroom.  We could hear about it but we could not have any.  All of their boyfriends were much older than us.  We didn't really have a cogent picture of what we were missing, anyway.  After a while though, sexual relations with a girl or woman was all I could think about.

Great Green Gobs Of Greasy Grimy Gopher Guts And Me With No Spoon                                                          

Women and girls were everywhere I turned but none were to be had.

We moved to another neighborhood and resided in an apartment building.  My mother was friendly with a matronly woman down the hall named Miss Kate.  My mother would send me to Miss Kate to run errands.

One day, she called the apartment to have my mother send me down to her.  When I knocked, she appeared at the door in a very thin robe.  She had just gotten out of the shower.  Her wet nipples were hard and jutting beneath the thin fabric.  I came through the door and stood against the wall. Miss Kate closed the door and stood there examining my face.  I had never seen that look on her face before. She was usually smiling or grinning when she talked.  This time she stood there with this piercing look in her eyes that made me uncomfortable.  I waited for her to make the next move.  She handed me a note and some money and sent me to the store.  Miss Kate did not understand that even though I was six feet tall, I was still a sexually inexperienced 13-year-old and she was not brave enough to start schooling me.

Miss Kate never called down to that apartment again.  She moved out of the apartment building a few months later, so she could go somewhere else and try and molest more experienced children that would have an overweight spinster.

My older brother brought home some porno videos.  He of course, let me watch one with him the first day he brought them home.  A few days later, I found where he had hid them and waited until my mother and younger brother had gone to sleep.  I watched one of the videos with the sound on the tv real low.  Mr. Wiggles got so excited that he swelled to 4 times his regular size!  I began squeezing Mr. Wiggles to get him to calm down.  The continual squeezing gave me a nervous feeling just below my stomach.  The next thing I knew, Mr. Wiggles had puked all over my hand and underwear.  The trauma that he suffered caused him to have a psychotic break.  That night he developed a second more sinister personality: Monsieur Libido2X.

After that night, I started choking Mr. Wiggles, on a regular basis.  The mere thought of puking made him swell to hulk sized proportions.  I was finally putting the pieces of the sexual puzzle together.  His evil twin, Monsieur Libido2X became an insomniac.  The two of them have not allowed me a single night's rest.

Right after my 17th birthday, I surprised Mr. Wiggles by introducing him to a cozy new environment that belonged to my first girlfriend Katie.  Mr. Wiggles was shocked and frankly, a little disappointed.  We knew we'd have to try "it" again.  Unfortunately, Katie's older brother and his friends made it virtually impossible to crawl back into the nappy dugout.  Monsieur Libido2X, ever the malcontent, wanted more fertile ground.

Monsieur Libido2X bugged me relentlessly, after that day I introduced Mr. Wiggles to the dugout.  He was chronically dissatisfied until I met Baby, my first Down To Mars Girl. Baby was the perfect answer to Monsieur Libido2X's 18-year-old yearnings.

Baby and the East Langerville Princesses placated Mr. Wiggles and Monsieur Libido2X sufficiently to allow me to focus on my studies and graduate from college.

Mr. Wiggles Meets His Match When I returned to civilization, I began working in an office with Princess Lynette of Grixdale Commons.  She was the only black woman and the object of jungle lust, in our office.  I was the only single black male.  Princess Lynette was the typical work obsessed black female professional of my generation. She had no social life and dealing with nerdy white men had caused her to loose her many of her social skills.

One day while in her office, she made me an offer I could not refuse: "Come on over to my apartment sometime and I'll suck ya dick".

I was having relations with two other women, at the time. When I had some down time, I would hook up with her. Princess Lynette proved to be an amazing lover without inhibitions and very masochistic.  She wanted to be punished before felating me.  She asked me repeatedly to punch her with a closed fist!  She severely underestimated my strenght.  I deferred but would slap her hard enough to make her jaws shudder and I would pull her by the hair without tearing it.

We continued our clandestine tryst, for about a year. After a point, Princess Lynette began pressing me to give her more and more of my time.  She eventually revealed her true agenda: marriage.  Her masochistic tendencies and her personal loathing of black people were insurmountable barriers to us having a more meaningful relationship.

I broke it off with Princess Lynette and eventually began dating a hot new therapist, that came to our office, but that's another blog (or a Harlequin Novel!!).

I was able to extract myself from Princess Lynette's clutches.  I introduced her to a new brotha that came to our office.  She immediately went into what Sam Greenlee described as the "instant virgin" act.  She distanced herself from me, in a heartbeat.  Princess Lynette did not want new brotha to know that she had been crawling on my floor barking like a dog!

I transferred to another division, in the downtown business district.  At that point, I got involved with Gweneth, my last Down 2 Mars Girl.  Gweneth was the ultimate free spirit. Loyal to those she loved, selfless and uninhibited.

I met Gweneth at a party hosted by a girlfriend of Doctor ACKTUNK!

I became Gweneth's down time man.  She lived with her baby's daddy.  He was a street hustler.  When Baby's Daddy hit the streets, Gweneth would call me and we would hang out the rest of the night into the early morning. We went on like that until I met Countess Dracula.  I had to put Gweneth down because of her selflessness that sometimes bordered on naiveté'.

Gweneth was the alpha female of her crew.  She was 5'10", at approximately 150lbs, light skinnded, with light brown eyes, full red lips, wide hips and a big round ass.  Her girlfriends idolized her.  They all wanted to sex up any man they knew that she was fond of.

Gweneth was nocturnal.  She never managed to make our daytime appointments.  We eventually had a major falling out when she missed a crucial daytime appointment.  We did not talk for several weeks after.

Gweneth called me at 3am on a Wednesday morning.  She wanted to make up for my anger at her for her chronic delinquency.  She informed me that she had a friend at her house that wanted to lick Mr. Wiggles, right then.

I broke the law that morning.  Mr. Wiggles made me ignore the speed limit and run red lights.  When I arrived, I found a fortysomething woman seated on the couch with Gweneth. She got right down to her job.  Gweneth, who had always verbalized disdain for fellatio, and had stuck to her position, got jealous and joined in.

Enter The Dragon                                                   

Gweneth had another friend that she adored named Penny, a thirtysomething crack head that looked fiftysomething. Gweneth talked me up quite a bit to Penny.  Part of attraction that Gweneth had for me was that I made her feel safe.  When she was at my home, the phone was not ringing constantly, her fan club had no access to her, she could relax and she could sleep, undisturbed, for as long as she wanted.  Gweneth discussed our arrangement with Penny on a regular basis.  Penny wanted in and convinced Gweneth to share.

Gweneth brought Penny to my house. the next time I saw her, Gweneth suggested that I should have sex with Penny one on one.  I was noncommittal to the idea.  Secretly, the idea was repugnant to me.  Penny was a toothless hag that had allowed nicotine, drugs and alcohol to ravage her body yet still believed herself to be attractive, because men would have sex with her.  Gweneth, on the other hand, was a goddess.  At 26, her love of Mickey's malt liquor and Newport 100's had not begun to disfigure her.  Time was still on Gweneth’s side.

Early one Sunday morning, Penny and Gwenny, came to my house.  They were stuck on the notion that I should hook up with Penny.  Gweneth wanted to save her friend at the expense of our relationship.

Gweneth asked me to put on some music.  They got up and started dancing.  They slowly removed their clothing and stood in front of the television doing the grind.  Penny came over to me on the couch and leaned over the arm. She knocked over a drink tha she had placed on the arm of my new sofa.

The social nazi that lives deep inside of me made me jump up from the couch and order them out of my house!  They got dressed and left.  About an hour later, Gwenny came back apologetic and humble.  She knew finally that she had fucked up.

By morning I had forgiven her.  The damage however was done.  Her selflessness seemed to be chronically misapplied.  She was always willing to help any $2 trik that needed a hand.  But never did enough for herself and her children.  No job.  No aspirations.  No prospects for the future.  Her position was in direct conflict with my middle class neo-nazi social program of upward mobility.

I let Countess Dracula come by the house about a month later.  She liked the palace, so she stayed. And one knows that one cannot remove Dracula from one's abode

I saw Gweneth about 2 years ago.  15 years had passed and she remained stuck in her time warp.  I had some regrets but not the one about moving on.  I wish I had gotten the number of her friend that gave me that superb head, that night in Gwenny's apartment.

Any Port In A Storm                                                          

Mr. Wiggles is unrelenting and stupid.  He would venture into any dark cavern to do some spelunking, if I let him. Time and my experiences have taught me not allow Mr. Wiggles to get me in trouble.  I manage to do a pretty damn good job of that without his input.  When he gets involved, something always gets fucked up.

Pathos Called Desire                                                       

My main desire these days is that I can keep Mr. Wiggles happy and Monsieur Libido2X at bay.  I reflect on my past, to avoid the problems I have encountered and as a means to deftly appease my voracious sexual agenda.

Confessing my jaded past on the internet has been good for my soul and gratifying on many other levels.  If you think Mr. Wiggles, Monsieur Libido2X and your truly would be good for your future entertainment, or you feel that you should be “sanctioned” for your past indiscretions, please send me an email.

Good evening, Ladies and germs.