Comments
by The Satyr
Sexual Deviants
Since I met Summer,
my whole world has disappeared. It’s like I’ve walked through a hole in
space and time, passing through Rod Sterling’s inner cortex, and emerging
on the other side where everything appears to be the same, but it is not.
Colors here are brighter and alive with a tingling energy that one can
feel brushing against the skin. The trees are greener, the water is bluer,
and the intoxicating magic has no equal, except for Summer. Here none of
the old rules apply, in fact no rules apply at all, except those that we
decide to make and then decide to unmake at our leisure. All of life is
limitless, all love is unconditional and the sex, well it is extraordinary
to say the least.
So what is it that makes
us so special, you ask? It’s simple. We love each other so much that we
don’t try to limit ourselves to just one person. We share our love just
like we were taught when we were children, unconditionally. What does it
matter to me if she goes out on a date with someone else? What does it
matter to her if I stay at another woman’s house? In short it does not.
And we love it that way!
I know we are decadents.
We are abnormal deviants in the life cycle. How can people go around treating
others like that? Do you know the damaging power of an orgasm? Do you know
what happens to the spirit when you enjoy yourselves like that? How can
we go about not pretending that our sex drive is gone for all but the one
we are with at the moment? How can we not play the game and settle down
and get married like good little people do and then cheat on each other
until one or the other gets caught? Or even better just stop loving the
other person and let bitterness and hatred set in.
We must have sheer nerve
to act out a threesome fantasy. And then to tell the other person what
happened in minute detail. That is lunacy. That kind of stuff is supposed
to be held in check until jealousy drives us mad and we find our once proud
love standing at the end of a barrel of a gun. And our fingers are on the
trigger.
Fuck that, man. That ship
is going down like that bastard Titanic. And even though we have no lifeboats
and no rescue ships are in sight, we jumped. The waters are warmer than
you think. Warm with love, heat and passion. The destination is uncertain
and it suits us just fine. Ride the waves and go with the flow.
We still hear them from the
ship though; hear them screaming their disapproval. They are angry because
we like to do it and then talk about it. That’s not supposed to happen.
Nobody does it anymore. Hell, half the people don’t know what it is anymore.
And if they did they sure wouldn’t talk about it. That is wrong. That is
not the way it is supposed to be done. But what the hell, the sun is shining,
the currents are flowing, and Kennedy’s ghost is a still fucking two, three
and four women, in Sinatra’s hotel. Although now that old Frankie is dead,
he had better watch his back. He never liked being hung out to dry.
This is our reality: one
part reality and sixteen parts fantasy. And it probably would never work
for anyone but us. We are a special breed. No mere mortals would be willing
to see the world as we do. It takes blood and guts to be this cool, baby.
That and a little iron and sulphur in the blood. Chock full of piss and
vinegar, with just enough sugar and spice to hide us away from the rest
of the world. They don’t take too kindly to creatures like us. It reminds
them that they are all too human and all to eager to kill themselves for
power, greed, jealousy, and most importantly, sex. We see past all their
minor devices, choosing to see the beauty in life, and to them that is
like holding both middle fingers high, waving them in their faces with
smiles on ours. So we hide, a little, and in the meantime we shop in the
same stores as they do, eat at the same restaurants, work the same jobs
and meet the same people. Only we are making friends and making love. While
they are writing down new reasons to live everyday. And the list keeps
getting smaller and smaller.
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