So this is my take on homosexuality. I haven't talked about it because my writing is inspired by mental imagery, and writing about guys f*cking themselves don't cut it. Simply put, dicks don't click.
Do I need to write a disclaimer? Probably.
Will I? Not definitely
Am I homophobic? Wait a minute...breath in, breathe out...this is my take. There are several things I don't like, for instance, girls in skimpy dresses and heavy makeup. Now, all because a girl is in one doesn't mean I'll dislike her but the outfit. My point is I distinguish the act from the person and not generalise. You can apply the same principle to homosexuality, I don't give a f*ck if you are gay and I don't give a f*ck how you f*ck, and I definitely don't like the later.
The first gay I met years ago, you could smell his oestrogen miles away but he would deny better than Peter. He was an English teacher in a Cambridge A' Level class I attended. He began to face reality people knew his status after his boyfriend broke up with him...he was in tears. What a pity.
This part MIGHT be disgusting. When a guy accepts his sexuality, is he oblivious of the fact that an erect dick would be gate crashing his anus. Like sh!t!, literally. How can making love be sweet when you feel pain before/during/after every thrust?
Dicks don't click...like using the tip of a pencil to sharpen another pencil. If you are gay, no homo, you can be my guy *thinking* but I have soft palm, skin, and ass...I guess I'll be the one sleeping on the floor.
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