"Sounds Good To Me" (Champagne by Shoestring Dialogue)

"Pussy." The sound of the word used to make me cringe. Something about those consonants is so harsh. Call it desensitization I guess. Doesn't really bother me now unless it escapes the mouth of a drunken asshole. Man or woman, Must it be so easy to say? Funny though, from the lips of a normally proper female, while intriguingly crude from the lips of an honest lesbian. I'm here again, all too familiarly, trying to avoid "Pussy" on a Friday night. To look at me, you'd laugh. Difficult to say in flannel and denim with no real options on the table. More like I'm trying to avoid the thought of it. Sex-drive inducing drugs are floating about in my blood thanks to friends that have release options ready when necessary. Mine consist only in virus-infected "free" porn, and a teasing phone call to a charming fag in Ohio. Charlie's always up for going down on straight guys, especially one's fantasizing about vagina while he's fanatically trying to open their minds. I suppose, a straight capitalist seems out of the box enough to be interesting to a flaming liberal homo who's an activist by trade. Either way Charlie's funny, but not pussy, and porn is just porn. I always have to mute it so I don't hear some terrible actress say pussy, while some asshole with a pony tail echoes as though it should turn the lonely high guy on. It stopped satisfying many Fridays ago, and this Friday is no different than any other since I was 13 or so. Trying to avoid the visual curse of man. Specifically straight man. I just want to rub my nose in Beautiful trim that's dripping naturally from the most basic instinct an animal has: Survival. Stinking wet Survival made possible through an unbelievable desire for me. It hasn't happened in so long that all I can do is try to avoid the thoughts of pussy on a Friday night, and actually accomplish some reading. No luck. The pure ecstasy of seeping cunts always destroys...