It’s a difficult place that I’m stuck here in. I’ve made it my home: The spot that stands between being feminine and being a little masculine. Yup. That would be my spot. I’ve claimed it.

As a male I struggle with the constant need to soothe my aching flesh. I am constantly plagued by images that ignite my desire. Regardless of the reason, I’m stimulated on an ever increasing basis.


It is difficult to contain these wants and desires. It is even more difficult to keep them hidden from the world. Even short trips to the convenient store often end with me hitting on the cab driver, clerk, or passerby. I think my sexuality at times is actually exuded through my pores. Others seem to just sense it. And their open hunger turns me on.


As a woman, I find it difficult to deal with these intense fixations. My mind gets in the way and tells me who deserves and who does not deserve to have sex with me. It decides almost before hand whether anyone will be having A good time.


You see, what you don’t know, is that we females decide when and when not to sleep with you. Yes. It’s a decision. But it’s not made by us per se, rather, it is made by that delicate female psyche that demands attention and injures upon insult, often seeking that which men treasure the most; That insatiable hunger.


The fine line that stands between the two is fearfully walked. The deep gouges between them are almost too much to cross. I sense the path needed for communication and understanding, I travel it easily. But I’m unable to take anyone with me. I’ve met few women or men that steer it clearly.


So I choose to stand in the middle. Here is the most extreme. The desire of the man and the passion of the woman meet to form a cavern of hot wet need. That’s where I reside. In my wet hot orgy of peace.

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