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Desert, or Just Me?
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Desert, or Just Me? I've visited a time or two, never for long, out of curiosity. That and a temptation to exercise the side I never get to express of myself. I guess what always put me off is the paywall. I mean, just to see messages? really? This time is different. I've allowed the monster to play, so to speak, and now it wants more. I know it sounds creepy, but please, bear with me. I guess it should be a quick intro. So I've always been plagued by what everyone would melodramatically call a demon of lust. One of my earliest memories of childhood was finding one of my mother's old hustler mags. She was sexually voracious as well, and always kept a stock of toys and mags near her bed. Of course, ever the hypocrite, heaven forbid we look at them. Of course, in hindsight, she was trying to raise us right. 9 years old when I first orgasmed. I'd been pulling pork for a while, but never finishing (when you don't really understand what's at the end, the process is quite enjoyable). My aunt and cousin had assumed I had fallen asleep on the couch, but rather I stayed up listening to them read a book together in bed (nothing weird, just sleeping arrangements were sparse at my aunt's). I was possessed with an innocent fantasy of sex with both of them, and pretty soon all those special muscles spasmed in release. That was the birth of the monster. I would forever be consumed with sexual desires, the need to get to that fantastic end. |
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