Setting up the show today while the ex is standing next to me looking at the stage my imagination flashed to orgies.
I need help. I need sex. I need to get laid. I need to maybe just masturbate. Or slam my face into a brick wall to get my brain to shut up. Or people need to start paying me for porn ideas. I can start a whole new nitch. Up in the rafters, harnessed up, spread over beams a hundred feet in the air.... And the audio guy today was like dirty hot. Like septum piercing and grudge, sweaty dirty longer hair... He could get it.
My imagination is killing me daily. I don't think it's normal for anyone to think about sex as much as me. Or to the degree of filth that I do. And I think this is why I don't talk to people anymore. I asked Ed if he ever spit on anyone from way up there, he said he may sweat...
My brain was all... hot. Fucking hot... Instant porn scene played out about being spat on and sweated over.... I need Jesus.
Strange thing today as I was talking to Ed, we were making gay jokes and I said something about liking women, something I don't think I have ever told him before. Like no detail coming out about that part of my life before and he was certain of it. Like he had firsthand knowledge of knowing... it was weird.
I mean I take no issue with it, but I'm curious as to how he knows that. People are people I find them all enjoyable, I don't like the stigma of labels about it. I like humans. But how if I never shared that with him would he know that?
I mean I'm more than happy to share... vagina... with him... perhaps someone else's and my own...
That could be fun... He could get on that page with me.
And River texting me hot ass pictures of her... Like dolled up in costume.... That doesn't help my urges. Demons raging in me.
My brain just wants me to get nailed and plowed from behind with my hair in someone's hands. I want dirty dirty sex.
Save me from my brain someone.
I need help. I need sex. I need to get laid. I need to maybe just masturbate. Or slam my face into a brick wall to get my brain to shut up. Or people need to start paying me for porn ideas. I can start a whole new nitch. Up in the rafters, harnessed up, spread over beams a hundred feet in the air.... And the audio guy today was like dirty hot. Like septum piercing and grudge, sweaty dirty longer hair... He could get it.
My imagination is killing me daily. I don't think it's normal for anyone to think about sex as much as me. Or to the degree of filth that I do. And I think this is why I don't talk to people anymore. I asked Ed if he ever spit on anyone from way up there, he said he may sweat...
My brain was all... hot. Fucking hot... Instant porn scene played out about being spat on and sweated over.... I need Jesus.
Strange thing today as I was talking to Ed, we were making gay jokes and I said something about liking women, something I don't think I have ever told him before. Like no detail coming out about that part of my life before and he was certain of it. Like he had firsthand knowledge of knowing... it was weird.
I mean I take no issue with it, but I'm curious as to how he knows that. People are people I find them all enjoyable, I don't like the stigma of labels about it. I like humans. But how if I never shared that with him would he know that?
I mean I'm more than happy to share... vagina... with him... perhaps someone else's and my own...
That could be fun... He could get on that page with me.
And River texting me hot ass pictures of her... Like dolled up in costume.... That doesn't help my urges. Demons raging in me.
My brain just wants me to get nailed and plowed from behind with my hair in someone's hands. I want dirty dirty sex.
Save me from my brain someone.
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