lube wrestling at the San Francisco Fetish Ball.
Now, I’m sure to the casual observer, this is just a hot naked chick crawling around on a stage. For me, it was a slightly more profound moment. Maybe it was the tequila and red bulls, but for me this was like the moment in 2001: A Space Odyssey when the apes realize that the bone can be used as a tool or a weapon.
Masuimi crawling out of that pool was like the first amphibian crawling out of the primordial ooze and realizing it could walk on land, breath air and use its voice to attract mates and retard predators. Okay, so I’m over-stating.
My point, and I do have one, is that while staring at Masuimi’s shimmering body, I was confounded by frustrating dichotomy of my sexuality. Yes, I wanted to fuck her, but more so I wanted to BE her.
However, I’m a guy. What’s worse, I’m a straight guy, which means that, except in the most bland, mainstream terms, my sexuality is not a commodity.
When they say that sex sells, they’re selling it to guys like me. The only place I’m gonna move a crowd by running around naked is in a room full of gay men, and it’s just not that kind of party. Pussy is like diamonds and dick is like wheat. When you’re straight, dick is a buyers market.