The Word of Darkyn

To be with a man is his secret desire. He is the one who keeps himself inside of a woman; but he keeps anal sex inside of his heart. He is promiscuous with women, but he dreams of men. He dreams of buttocks; he dreams of being enclosed in rectum; of pressing his scrotum against chiseled buttocks. People see him as what he is not. A man who takes insane pleasure in the jiggle and wiggle of breasts and feminine tush; a man who takes women as many as they come. But he is not what people see. He is not a swinger. What he is is a hider; a pretender; a gayfer wearing a facade.

Hide behind your mask; behind your lies; behind your women. Bury your head under their breasts; run and hide away inside of their vaginas. Hide yourself from the truth. It is still there. Cover the truth with your women. Pile them high on top of each other; then climb to the top and press them against each other with your body. The truth is still there, way underneath. Line your women in a row, and one by one, insert them with your penis. Let them bury you with their kisses, their breasts, their thighs, their sex. Let them masturbate against you, on top of you, underneath you.

The truth remains.

He doesn’t know what he is. He aches. He hungers. But he doesn’t know. The closet is comfortable only at times. Only at times is it warm and safe and comfy. But sometimes its walls liquefy, and gummy, ghost-like faces can be seen pressing their faces into the liquid walls, and they taunt and jeer. "Get up out of here you faggot! you faggot motherfucker! secret assfucker!" So he runs to her, and to her, and to her, and injects his semen into each one of them; and with every thrust of his penis, he can feel that coiled, shameful part of him straightening out. Or so he makes himself believe. He aches, so he coats the pain with the medicine of many women; he hungers, so he feeds on women two and three and four at a time. But the truth remains, lurking behind the gummy faces. And the hunger and the pain clings to the truth.

It is not every man’s fantasy to be with more than one woman. But it is every scared closet queen’s fantasy to rid himself of the frightening truth. And what better way to do it, than to make the world believe that he is a player; a pimp; a swinger? What better way to do it than to make himself beleive that he is all these things? He is the one who makes shameless, wanton films of groups of women screwing and masturbating. Sometimes he gets himself on film, and participates in the sexual commune of lesbian lust. He is the one who indulges in all and everything that is cunnilingus. He is the one who is afraid to come out of the closet.

He takes advantage of women who were fucked by their fathers. He uses them to make himself go straight. They are weak and soiled, the mind toys of demons, and so they are the best means of conversion.

Or so he thinks.

Because he can’t stop dreaming of sinking his penis into the anus of a man with hard-muscled buttocks, or soft, squishy ones, just like a girl’s.