oh, pensive. and a little bit of this and that. reading the newspapers makes me want to close one eye and dream it all up again. writing about sex can only do so much. after all, it ain't the seventies, so starting a revolution from my bed doesn't quite work anymore. it's an opiate, and why not? the world is too full to talk about. i used to get pissed off whenever someone labelled me as "one of the good ones who didn't make it." but fuck fame, and hail understated and low-profile. just gimme my damned music, cigarettes and ability to blend in like everyone else. if it's a cop-out, so be it.

Right between The Beatles' "Tomorrow Never Knows" and Beck's "Earthquake Weather," she came over to my table and offered me another one of her trademark looks. I must be weird, I thought, but definitely not unique. Any serious het man who says that they don't enjoy the attention of women is lying through his fuckin teeth. But something else happens too when a woman hits on me. Mind you, this has got nothing to do with morality. It's just that as much as I enjoy their fawning over me, I lose a bit of respect for them as well. I mean, where's the fuckin fire? Why is she so fuckin hot and bothered? For God's sakes, you're married; isn't the man that you chose to marry good enough for you?

"Well I didn't exactly choose to marry him."

"What?"

And yeah, okay, I acted as if I didn't understand. I was facetious. Everywhere I look, I see marriages held together by compromises.

"Well, she's not the one that I really want, but."

But what? Any port in a storm? She's a good mother? She takes it in the ass? See, at least the last bit has a bit of substance in it. If two people are together because they love fucking each other, it's fuckin time to clap your hands and congratulate. But the truth is, people stay together even though the sex is bad, and the emo is runnin on low. The worst thing is, they're in it for the long haul. The scariest thing is, some of these fuckers do end up staying together for a lifetime! Imagine, a lifetime of compromise.

So that's why I'm so easy with the sympathy whenever someone confesses infidelity to me. It's so understandable.

"So now what? Do you want my cock in you? Is this what you want?"

"No. I want to play with it first."

I rolled my eyes, but it was already all bloated up waiting to be sucked. The penis is an utterly incorrigible organ. If it had legs to walk around, it would be the easiest thing in this world to swindle and con, be molested.

I'm not sure if someone will actually try this at home, but whoever wrote the piece has a really good sense of humour.

"So, how are you today?"

"Not too good, I'm afraid."

"What's wrong?"

"Bit of a cough, the dry kind. I think a cold's on the way."

"Hmm..."

"But my libido's good. Seems unaffected."

"Oh...?"

"My cock's never been harder."

"I see. And what's been making it so hard?"

"Well, the first thing when I wake up."

"Morning wood."

"Yes. And very hard."

"What does your erection make you want to do?"

"Well, it doesn't make me feel like jerking off, if that's what you mean."

"If it doesn't make you feel like masturbating, what does it make you feel like doing?"

"I don't feel like fucking either. It just makes me feel things."

"Please elaborate."

"Porny things...like peeping my aunt when she's bathing..."

"And what exactly do you see when you feel that you're peeping at your aunt?"

"Oh, her ass. Th roundness of it. Made rounder and fleshier by the water on her skin. Her cunt, and all that hair, hanging down, wet from the shower. The strange thing is, the images become clearer when I'm burning joss sticks."

"Joss sticks? You mean incense."

"Yes."

"And who or what do you burn these joss sticks for?"

"Well, my personal understanding is that any form of praying is a way to get in touch with yourself. And I don't believe that rituals such as burning joss sticks are more important than the belief, or the faith. Personally I don't really think it's important whether you burn joss sticks or not."

"So why do you do it?"

"Because my mother gets pissed off if I don't."

"Do you think it's possible that all the erotic images that you receive while burning joss sticks is a way to rebel against your mother's wishes?"

"I don't know. Maybe not. I think it's because I associate peeping my aunt with the ritual. They burn joss sticks too in the house where my aunt lives. Perhaps it's the overwhelming scent of the incense."

"That's interesting. But let's go back to the early morning erection and the sensations that you see and feel."

"Okay."

"You said that whenever you wake up really hard in the morning, it's neither masturbation nor sex that you desire."

"That's correct."

"Is there something else you would like to do with your erection?"

"I don't know why, but the way you asked me, I thought about how you want to know how I 'utilise' my erection, like a tool."

"Well, that's a fair enough interpretation. So what's the utility of your early morning erection?"

"I would like to have it sucked. Encased in a soft, warm mouth. Lovingly, my hardness enveloped in softness."

"Would you like to be fellated until you reach orgasm?"

"No. That would kill the desire and all the lusty, porny feeligs."

"So you just want your erection to be loved by the softness of a mouth, but not to the point of ejaculating."

"Yes."

"And besides this, is there anything else that you would like to do with your erection?"

"I want to rub it against something."

"Like what?"

"Oh I don't know. Something that would push back preferably."

"Why is that?"

"So that I can feel how hard I am. It's just like how when I'm being sucked, and I want to feel a bit of pain, and I ask her to use her teeth to nip and scrape against it. I like the aggressive and violent feelings that burst forth from the pain. Well, it's not really pain per se, but a pleasurable sort of pain. Do you know what I mean?"

"Do you often have violent feelings when you're having sex?"

"I suppose I do, but not the psychotic kind where I feel like killing my partner."

"Then what kind is it?"

"I want to cause her unbearable pleasure, maybe anguish when we're fucking. I want to see her lose herself. I feel triumphant whenever I see that she has creamed so much that it drips onto the sheets."

"When that happens, you feel accomplished, is that it?"

"Oh yes. Very much so. I enjoy seeing women decimated by pleasure."

"Do you wish to impose such pleasure upon your aunt?"

"Well I've written stories about it, but honestly I don't think I wish to make it a reality."

"Why not?"

"Because it would be rape, and I don't believe in rape. The real kind anyway."

"In an ideal scenario, what would sex with your aunt be like?"

"She would be yearning for it, hungry like a bitch in heat, mouthing her approval shamelessly as she sucks me off, and when I come, it's thick and gooey beyond belief and she's all eager to be fed, wagging tongue and all."