A year ends, slips into the next and we make a big fuss out of it when in fact it's just another day. All in all, we had a pretty good time last night, "ushering in the new year." Everyone got all nice and tipsy, and this morning I woke up to yet another faceful of Neko's wet cunt, and our first bang of 2006.

    My asshole brother and his girlfriend are still around, scheduled to go back to where they came from later today. Strange things happen when other people intrude upon your personal space, especially so when you're living in an apartment. In many ways it sucks, but there's also much excitement to be derived from the encroachment.

    With my hard cock buried deep in Neko's quim, it's a thrill knowing that merely five or six feet away they're sitting on the couch watching tv.

 

Horniness knows no bounds, especially after a long period of abstinence. Her ass, naked and round, like my own cockhead, which I swiftly buried into her, along with the rest of my cock. Sometimes I still wonder why sex with Neko is so much creamier in the studio, where luxury is the furthest thing away from its bohemian mise en scène. Deep down we always know why, and it's precisely because of the temporary absence of luxury and the bohemian mise en scène that render everything so much more exciting.

    In part this is one of the reasons why she reminds me so much of Simone from Histoire de l'oeil. She enjoys sexually mocking anything remotely associated with being a housewife, and then, getting turned on from said mockery. She said that getting fucked by me in that space makes her feel as if she's out there cheating on her "husband."

    This time I got to slip off her panties, which made me feel all lecherous like an old, dirty pervert, what with that timid expression of hers like a sweet little schoolgirl itching for her first fuck. It was all squids and noodles as I ate her out, but not being in the mood for an extended foreplay, I slipped my already fattening cock into her and began.

............................................. 

   Away from the throes of lust, it is easy for me to reflect in amazement how such an oft-repeated act can be the source of so much agonising pleasure. And as far as reflections on sex go, it is all too easy to get all clichéd, trite and banal. For me that's the main danger when it comes to writing smut, or meta-smut. However, I am persistent. As Manuel of Fawlty Towers fame would claim, "But I try!"

   The moment when the cock slips into that warmth, ah, the sensation is always so brand new. The hunt is afoot, in-out, in-out, up the pace, or a slow slipping and sliding, as all the nice cream squishes out. The unrest triggers automatic reactions, where it's most pronounced in the mouth. The lips part, the oral cavity yawns wide open, instinctively searching out for something to quench and pacify itself. The teeth wants to bite, the tongue and lips want to suck and be sucked upon, lick and be licked. Hands and fingers want to grope and squeeze, and the body wants to be touched and molested. We're absolutely wired for fucking, and this includes animals as well.

   If you're a cat lover like me, surely you must've noticed that whenever you give a cat a belly scratch, its little tongue will start flicking involuntarily, restless from all the pleasure.
 

   

Helped someone to move yesterday, despite being ill. It was heavy duty work, and made me appreciate the value of strength. A few of the high tension parts ache a little, but there's really no workout like a short and sweet session of pig-filthy, shameful sex.

    Neko was lounging around in the living room, reading some magazine after applying some deep cleansing mask on. I stood in the doorway, pulled down my briefs and waved my fat cock at her. How about some sex with a sick man I said, and she promptly replied by pulling off her panties, then ushered me into the fuckroom. I lay down on the bed and let her work on me.

    For the past few months she's been getting off on smelling my pubic hair before proceeding to sucking me. Seeing her with the mask on only served to heighten my horniness, and my pole was erect in no time. She got into our favourite position that is halfway between kneeling and prostrating, with her knees and thighs together. We fucked until she came once, then it was back to some sucking again. She was all vicious and ruthless with teeth and tongue, making me twitch and then efficiently lapping up all her cream deposits on my cock.

    We resumed fucking in that same position, my cock feeling significantly bigger. She yelped a little like a little girl, and soon I was back on the silken highway again, riding over the squelching, starchy sounds of fucking until I began to boil over. I pulled out, intending to spray all over her ass, but in a flash her mouth was in place over my cock, as I drained what felt like a gallon of protein into her mouth and down her throat.

   I fell into a restful slumber shortly, and when I woke up I was still feeling the echoes, and though my cock ached a little, I was itching for another fuck. So here I am, writing this for you.
 

Afternoons often remind me of those precious moments when my mother was away gossiping at the neighbour's, when all I dared to watch was that brief clip of Bumsimaus. "Bumsimaus, a girl with a very hot pussy and a very hot mouth. She blows so well that she even fogs up the camera lens," a decidedly masculine voice proclaims. Platinum blonde, eyes rolled back as if in the throes of death, tongue sticking out as if being strangled, bouncing on the photographer's big cock, cooing: "If you have a big one, what a wonderful big one..." Followed by more shots of a dark-haired girl getting fucked between her tits, which she squeezes together, swollen cockhead drooling all over cleavage, a boycut brunette caressing an ejaculated cock, caressing it like it was the hand of a king, covering it with tiny butterfly kisses, and balls being stroked while cocks dive in and out of tight cuntholes, and urgency to fuck like there's no tomorrow. "Be sure not to miss this exciting new porno hit, BUMSIMAUS."

 

Convalescence from the common cold always feels like being in a dreamstate. Numbed and dulled by the chemicals of Western medical science, everything seems slower than usual. Memories of being sick in the past occur to me once in a while, and the resulting déjà vu-like sensations in turn remind me of something I once wrote in my carefree university days: My mind is a video camera left running on end. The tapes I make slip beneath the seat of my thoughts, and when they surface, I watch them sometimes.  

Recovering from this goddamned flu makes me think of strange things. Strange things like the readership of this blog. I wonder about the reactions of the people who visit but do not leave comments. I thought being curious was a thing of the past for me, but yet, I find myself occasionally wondering about what they, these phantom readers, like or dislike about Notes from My Libido, if it disgusts them or arouses them.

    Part of the reason for keeping this blog is the desire to reach out and cathect with people who are like me. People who are properly-socialised sex maniacs who can't help thinking about sex all day long, and understand the aesthetics of the libido and its many sublimated manifestations. I mean, should I turn off the comments section, call it a day and blog on without a care as to who gives a damn? Or should I continue to be like Muhammad? Since Muhammad can't go to the mountains, let the mountains come to Muhammad. But if the mountains show very few signs of moving, maybe Muhammad should just wait a little while. Have a coffee with Janet Jackson or something.

Update: The comments section HAS BEEN TURNED ON, so please feel free to comment away! Feedback is good!

Pleasure is downtempo music and long, leisurely drives under the big bright sunny sky.

    The weekend was a blast, in a way. A smooth, sunny drive down to ________ with evergreen light and easy tunes playing all the way. And like animals or insects being subject to some culturally-programmed homing instinct, in the opposite direction was the exodus crawl of cars heading back to their respective hometowns for the festive season.

    The first thing I did upon arrival at my aunt's house was to sleep. Everyone was around, the house was crowded, sex was inconvenient. As I slept, Neko was downstairs fulfilling the conversational needs of my nosy relatives. I tried to be on the lookout for opportunities to spy on my aunt's hairy cunt, but I was simply too sleepy. When night came, Neko and I watched a movie at the cinema after dinner. 

    The next day was the big day, and after lunch and all the chi-chi Neko and I went to the mall to escape the congestion of the house and the heat of the afternoon sun. Hand-in-hand we toured the sparsely-populated mall, window-shopped and ogled at people. We bought a few things and had an early dinner of fried chicken. When we reached my aunt's house, the party of the day was over and each of us recharged in different rooms, another day without sex.

    We came back on Monday, exhausted, but there's always energy reserved for sex. We engaged our genitalia in fucking after some cursory foreplay, and amidst our shameless moans and groans I spurted three days' worth of come deep inside her.

     

     

Problems can never really be destroyed. And like energy, they can only change form. When you're single, you spend an insane amount of time feeling sorry for yourself, and when you finally find someone, you're happy as a pig in shit, but your self-pity dissipates and becomes host to another set of issues that chiefly revolves around the maintenance of a relationship. And when you succeed at this level and finally get married, another set of issues inevitably presents itself. You know, kids, expenses and stuff plus the maintenance of a blissful marriage. Come to think of it, problems never really stop till the day you are physically dead.

    It's pretty much the same with work or business. You solve a problem, and another will immediately rush in to replace it. And again, it never really ends till you are physically dead. Of course, there are fates worse than death, such as teetering on the verge of bankruptcy, the contemplation of suicide or jailtime as a consequence of murdering your boss.

    Whichever way the direction of your life goes --- up or down, positive or negative --- problems reiterate themselves, albeit in different forms. Which explains why I spend so much time enjoying the whims and fancies of my libido. Writing about it is part of the enjoyment too, because in doing so, I get to exhibit snippets of my libidinous sex life to you, be it my naughty cock or the youthfulness of Neko's body or my aunt's hairy crack.

   It's a fortunate thing that we continue to live in a world that tries to uphold civilization, despite the fact that we still occasionally fail. I can't very well brazenly air my filth to the world outside the world wide web, and so I do it here. This journal allows me to share and vent and transgress. And if it should have the power to positively impact the lives of others, then why not?

   I love to masturbate and I love to fuck, and suck, and not necessarily in that order. I enjoy things that make me all erotically restless and shit. I enjoy capturing moments that are all at once pornographic, beautiful and poetic. I seek to recapture the excitement that I felt when I first encountered pornography. I can't pretend to speak for other people, but for me, pornography is both a celebration and an ode to the libido, feminine or masculine, feminine and masculine. And when it comes to porn, it's my notion of porn, and not someone else's. And I want to connect with people who share my aesthetic of how good, home-made porn should be.