Unlike Men, the Cunnilingus x
Ah, my favourite food - pussy juice!
You see darlings, when I say, on my profile, that I am a homosexual, I mean that I am a homosexual woman. Yes I'm transgender - but that means that, although I have a vestigial wotchamathingamy and attendant bollocks I am nonetheless female for all that. My tits are my gaolers that keep me chained, naked, in a gilded cage of ecstasy, the temples upon those sacred mounds being places of constant worship both intentional and accidental, and my mind is filled with pink things as opposed to politics and oily rags. The only oil spill in my recent memory occurred when opening a can of tuna, and that was cleaned with a mop rather than sea-birds. Of course - lest you get the idea that I'm writing in stereotypes which would make Germain Greer blow a gasket - I write for effect more than accuracy, as I am hardly divinely omniscient.
Some people do call me divine, however. I'm getting a lot of attention from men - were I a bitch in heat and the men dogs, I would be ecstatic. Don't get me wrong, I love the attention and, in some cases, the men are quite nice. in the right sort of light it would be a perfectly blissful thing and doubtless, in a business arrangement, I can take them all. But my heart - that belongs to women.
Women, however, appear very infrequently in my messages or my friend list, which is a shame. I feel a kinship, a connection with women that I could never have with men - the sort of connection which is the ideal breeding ground for the seeds of love and other pink things to grow strong, where ecstasy is made complete by a bigger part.
So, ladies, don't be shy - Auntie Agatha's waiting...
You see darlings, when I say, on my profile, that I am a homosexual, I mean that I am a homosexual woman. Yes I'm transgender - but that means that, although I have a vestigial wotchamathingamy and attendant bollocks I am nonetheless female for all that. My tits are my gaolers that keep me chained, naked, in a gilded cage of ecstasy, the temples upon those sacred mounds being places of constant worship both intentional and accidental, and my mind is filled with pink things as opposed to politics and oily rags. The only oil spill in my recent memory occurred when opening a can of tuna, and that was cleaned with a mop rather than sea-birds. Of course - lest you get the idea that I'm writing in stereotypes which would make Germain Greer blow a gasket - I write for effect more than accuracy, as I am hardly divinely omniscient.
Some people do call me divine, however. I'm getting a lot of attention from men - were I a bitch in heat and the men dogs, I would be ecstatic. Don't get me wrong, I love the attention and, in some cases, the men are quite nice. in the right sort of light it would be a perfectly blissful thing and doubtless, in a business arrangement, I can take them all. But my heart - that belongs to women.
Women, however, appear very infrequently in my messages or my friend list, which is a shame. I feel a kinship, a connection with women that I could never have with men - the sort of connection which is the ideal breeding ground for the seeds of love and other pink things to grow strong, where ecstasy is made complete by a bigger part.
So, ladies, don't be shy - Auntie Agatha's waiting...
1年前
