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A Night in Reality


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A Night in Reality.

By DesDownunder ?2009

I just read another story. Boy meets boy, they seduce each other and then live happily ever after.

That wasn't as bad as the previous story I read where boy meets boy and they entered into a

relationship that was plagued with every plot device from every daytime soap opera on TV.

Boring.

So I showered, shaved, shat and shampooed, not necessarily in that order and went for a cruise in the car.

A full two hours later I returned home with my conquest for the night. He left like two minutes after he came.

So I once again did the aforementioned ablutions hopped in the car and again returned home, this time in

seventy-five minutes with another conquest.

He spasmed in record time, and left shortly thereafter.

My shower was wearing out, but I just had to find someone for the night.

This time I returned home in 45 minutes. What can I say, it was late, we were desperate and wham, bang, thank you man,

and it was over.

I lay there wondering what was wrong. It takes longer to read the stories than it does to enact them.

Suddenly it hit me what was wrong with the stories, especially those that didn't finish.

It's all about the hunt, the conquest. It's not even about meeting someone for a never ending romance.

The careful preparation, the thinking about the excitement that lay ahead, the chase, the hopefully exotic hunt for the

Red October's torpedo, the desire to conquer, to submit and be conquered, to be taken to the lair of the beast

and be enthralled in the cave of our unearthly imaginings, to soar above the clouds only to fall to Earth dripping

in Heaven's moisture, locked in an embrace of masculine muscularity.

And then as the dawn breaks through yonder window, I stretch and realise the son of youth has fled the night

like an unfinished star, a story that can never have a satisfactory completion.

Alone I sit on the edge of the bed looking at the computer on the table on the other side of the room.

I know it contains a window to a net full of stories like I just experienced; a dizzying roundabout of

hopeful beginnings that end in wishful thinking or not at all.

How many times do I start reading a story, only to pace the author and lose interest at the very moment

that the author has written about the conquest of one or both of the heroes? Most times the author has lost

the plot at the same moment as I can't be bothered reading any longer.

So the stories were basically following the same plot as a promiscuous pick-up, probably inspired by the horniness

of the author as he began writing only to come to an abrupt ending when the keyboard became clogged with his excitement.

End of story, or never to be finished. Just like my night in reality.

It was just sex.

Today, I will seek love.

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Thanks guys, glad you enjoyed it.

Bruin your use of vanity and vain is very perceptive. :wink: Love it!

Camy, a good torpedo is always worthy of a crash dive, it's the depth charges that are the real worry.

:lol:

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How appropriate that you chose a flash to exhibit these glimpses of instant passion we recognize so well.

How sad that the issues you raise can't be dealt with so quickly.

Instead, I suspect they will require many more lines be inscribed into the Book of Life.

James

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How appropriate that you chose a flash to exhibit these glimpses of instant passion we recognize so well.

How sad that the issues you raise can't be dealt with so quickly.

Instead, I suspect they will require many more lines be inscribed into the Book of Life.

James

Yes you are right James, but then again, nothing is easy, as they say. I don't doubt the storyline could be explored/expanded in a lengthier piece.

Cole Parker wrote:

Adroitly executed, Des, with your own personal brand of wit and wisdom. A very satisfying read.

Thanks Cole, glad someone got some satisfaction, :wink:

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Cole Parker wrote:

Thanks Cole, glad someone got some satisfaction, :wink:

Satisfaction? SATISFACTION?

I didn't get any satisfaction. All I got was a view of how my life (or fantasy life) played out to worry about.

You did your job Des, you got people to think. I'm not alone, as I'm sure that many readers had to think about what they themselves have fantasized about....or did. Our stories seem to end as Nifty stories end, they just end.

Wonderful writing, but I think it wasn't just about someone's fantasies. It was about what we as sexual humans fantasize about and what is reality.

Makes you think, huh? I sure did.

Great job, oh Master intellectual.

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Satisfaction? SATISFACTION?

I didn't get any satisfaction. All I got was a view of how my life (or fantasy life) played out to worry about.

You did your job Des, you got people to think. I'm not alone, as I'm sure that many readers had to think about what they themselves have fantasized about....or did. Our stories seem to end as Nifty stories end, they just end.

Wonderful writing, but I think it wasn't just about someone's fantasies. It was about what we as sexual humans fantasize about and what is reality.

Makes you think, huh? I sure did.

Great job, oh Master intellectual.

[blush]

I ain't no intellectual and I have the braincell to prove it.

The response to the story is most heartening.

So you want to think? Try this...

We live in times that are a-changing -some for the better.

The horrors of criminal persecution that forced many of us to meet covertly, fleetingly, fearfully, still exist in many places on this planet.

That we did that, not out of any kind of natural promiscuity, but because it was all that was available to us, has yet to be understood by society at large, but also by many of my peer group, by those who were the subject of unjust, and unneeded laws, and we must come to understand it without regret or guilt. We kept the sexual fires of passion alive in the only way we could, ready to forge a future of freedom of sexual expression. Some of us got lucky and braved the torture to stand fast in the face of persecution and inquisition. Many died.

Sexuality should not be a political or religious issue. It is a personal thing, which concerns none but the consenting partners, or none but the lonely heart. Promiscuity in itself is not wrong, indeed if you think about it, the only biological role of the male is to ejaculate.

Anthropologically however, man has another role to provide for, and protect his offspring. Somehow we have overlaid these natural human traits of ejaculation and nurture with unnecessary morality laws. (I am of course not arguing in favour of child molesting, that in no way can be considered as nurturing.)

So there is in fact no reason at all why we should not pleasure each other, it's just that there is something more to life than a quick flip and that something more is called Love.

How we love and whom we love is an individual expression that does not require anything more from a social group than acceptance of nature's propensity for affinity in human relationships.

It is I would hold, self evident that same sex relationships, built on that natural affinity which tends to become love, are the source of our compassion for each other as human beings. Without that association of affinity with freedom of sexual expression, compassion is diminished as a human trait, it becomes less than complete, like an unfinished story where the beginning potential of a story is never fulfilled.

In older, more ancient, and philosophical terminology, I am saying, if the gods grant us natural attraction, then man's gift to the gods and thus symbolically to all mankind, is compassion.

I trust therefore that from this you can see that the above story is not condemning fantasies, but simply saying fantasies can lead the way to seek love, as much as a night in reality.

The story however was meant to just say, "ever notice how picking someone up for the night is reminiscent of a porn story that fizzles out?"

We seem to have gone beyond my original intention, just a tad. :wink:

Indeed, as an author, I find that most satisfying.

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  • 2 months later...

I first thought you had looked into my life and taken my own habits into your account. *shudders*

Granted, lately the only satisfaction I've received is self induced.

What a thoughtful and quite provoking flash? Not really a prose piece, almost like an essay, but it brings to life the lack of life so many humans on this planet must endure. Very cool.

Jason

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