We all sessodipendenti. The world is sessodipendente.
Who is more, some less. It's not a question of men or women. Of young or old, atheist or religious. Sex is the only primitive instinct we have, in addition to being the only one that causes no harm. Food, self-defense, reproduction. With an excess of the first instinct, we kill yourself. With the second, we kill one another. But the third thing, it does not hurt anyone, with the consent of the two - or more than two - sides. In fact, let's face it, a good fuck is even relax, right?
It makes no sense to hide it. Just have a nurse or doctor friend, to realize what can be sessodipendente mankind. Men and women hospitalized for all sorts of objects inserted into the rectum: sticks, bottles, vegetables. Wedges anal vibrators and finished a bit 'higher up than it should. You babe, deflowered girls with stick deodorant, round and big, and even deny ever having committed the act. E 'for people like them that keep a first aid drill with diamond tip to pierce the glass bottles that have sucked back into it.
There are places where sex takes only a bill and a company. Open brothels scattered on hills near urban centers, where those who bear a company pays half and is then free to mate with any consenting biped who has crossed the exact same threshold, with the exact same intent. I'm talking about trade groups, orgies, threesomes, four, five. I'm talking about a fucking crowded. I swear, these places exist. Well, sure, there are only if you are still members of that coterie of crazies who still believes that sex is shameful love the child.
Then there are the perversions so-called "home." Those that are not brought to the fore in the cold light of the operating room, no. I speak of those that remain hidden from the door, true bottom line that separates what we say to be from what we really are. Relationships with animals. Latex. Whips. Transvestism. And sometimes a partner is tied to the bed while the other, embarrassed in his superhero costume, tripped and fell and broke a bone or worse. People left hanging in misguided attempts to autoerotic asphyxiation.
The most peaceful people are still not immune to the small perversions. Some like being beaten, some like it got to be bad words, some like the boots and fishnet stockings, but there are those who find irresistible to be spanked. The only limit? Physical endurance, of excitement, of perdition.
see Li, that they turn to look at asses. You see them with your hands saddles hot tap. Do you see them, while holding hands in the pocket park in front of children at play, and it is said that the pockets are full of holes at the bottom. But also see them blush with friends and exchanged mischievous glances and giggling among themselves, before the dancer dall'addominale polished and darting, and is not Kant who would speak after just two minutes in the bathroom of the room, while the "abdominal- of-marble "is already turning to the contrary.
The bathrooms, in fact. Condoms everywhere. Cartigienica crumpled in the corners, whitish splashes on the tiles, which are drying up a bit 'everywhere. I do not believe to be the only Note that these things, or at least I hope not.
Anyone got any skeletons in the closet. Anyone at least once in their life has succumbed to the lust, succumbed to a fantasy. We are not lemurs, ready to sniff and respond to specific chemical signals for mating. No, we go far beyond this condition, we are more (or less) are mere animals who ingroppano for specific biological instincts, no, we need to fuck, fuck, plunger, and when we look we can not do a good billboard some brand of lingerie and we put his hand in his pocket. We beat the bus.
And while you're in the toilet of the plane, to six thousand meters, and you're washing your hands, note the imprint of a pair of female feet, with the classic arched curve, which are detected on the glass from your breath that it tarnishes. At a height a bit 'too weird to walk on it, I guess.
And you think to yourself that if you say, jokingly, that maybe does not think too much sex you're the one so strange.
0 comments:
Post a Comment