Post Sexual


The other night I was watching a movie and there was a scene where a girl had her tits out and they were BEAUTIFUL. I tried my DAMNDEST not to sexualize them, to see them as ‘just breasts,’ but they kept presenting themselves as ‘tits.’ As I stared I started to meditate on a time when her and I both looked like the ‘couple’ in the picture above; when ‘tits’ were merely provisionary…


That’s some magical-ass shit. My pre-history boo came EQUIPPED with everything she needed to take care of our equally magical merger of genetic information?! Damn, my baby’s whatever-those-things-are are fucking amazing.

Oh shit!

My own mama had a pair of those?! I wouldn’t even be here to be raising my own seed if it weren’t for her whatever-those-things-are?! Damn, whatever-those-things-are are pretty valuable. And to think: they’re just hanging out there like that.

Speaking of hanging out there like that…

What’s up with MY shit! Every other vital organ is tucked away under protective layers of fur and skin, but this damn thing is just ‘out’ there. That can’t be safe. Nor is it ‘fair.’ Why is her shit all tucked up inside, safe from harm? Speaking of ‘her shit’…

Damn it smells good right now. I really wanna—

But she’s taking care of our child. I don’t wanna—

Damn. It smells REALLY good though.

You know what? Maybe we should cover this shit up. At least until we figure out what the hell’s going on. Until we figure out WHY we are the way we are.

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