I never said I was not a complex man.
I pray. Every single day.
I believe there is a God as much as I believe there is a Me. I don’t care what you believe and I don’t give two flying fucks about making you believe what I believe.
I believe a lot of things.
I believe your pussy tastes delicious. I believe I’d like your flavor soaking the brown, blonde, red, salt and pepper 2-guard trimmed beard that currently decorates my face.
I believe I’d love your slutty wetness dripping down my face, so intensely wet that my chest hair needs to be wiped before I put a shirt on. I believe I’d like to stuff vibrating ben wa balls inside your pussy, then bring you to church with me in your pretty little good girl dress.
I would like to make you to sit next to a bunch of judgmental idiots while you wriggle with a sopping wet pussy as I control the remote vibrating against your G spot, forcing you to try and question the metaphysical, as your panties are in my pocket and wetness is running down your inner thighs like you just left the shower.
I believe I’m going to make you cum while you stand here and try your best to maintain composure.
I believe I am a sinner. I believe we all are.
I don’t fight who I am. I don’t pretend.
I might have to answer for this one.
Also published on Medium.