Archive | September 2012

Proof That Being Gay Is a Choice

Since science has been indeterminate in finding whether being gay is caused genetic factors, it seems to be that the only real explanation is that it is caused by environmental factors.  To prove it, I chose to have sex with a man.

I had immerse myself into becoming a gay man.  I started using a penis pump to get it bigger for when I finally did the deed.  If I was going to pleasure a man, I had to do it right.  And if I was going to be gay, I had to have a bigger penis.

I had to shave my hair off my body so it was smooth to the touch.  Plus, during the licking-of-the-body portion of the foreplay, I didn’t want the man to get hair in his mouth.  I would only hope that the man would do the same for me.

Traversing the web for a date would have been too easy.  Still, I looked and it was the common sex party after sex party thing.  I wanted to shake things up.

I bought my condoms and my enemas for the actual act of anal sex.  Finally, I was ready to go.

I went to my first gay club dressed in pink leather pants with a bird-beak attached on the crotch and no shirt.  Instead, I attached pink flamingo feathers to my upper body.  I had red mascara around my eyes.  I had my yellow-lipstick on.  I put my hair into a fohawk position with purple glitter sprinkled among the follicles.  I changed my walk to make it so I didn’t swing my arms around or bend my knees when walking.

All the gay men took notice of me, immediately.  I went up to my first target.  A brutish, skinny man with wide-narrow shoulders, wearing a silver, reflective shirt and red jeans.

“Hush,” I said instead of ‘hello’, “What does the flower grow for in the ground among the weeds in a prairie?  What does a cactus live for in the desert with no sand to thrust into its pores?  What does a sheep with its tongue cut out do to ‘bahhhhhhh’?”  The man burst out laughing.  I knew I had him for the rest of the night.  But I didn’t want to choose him right away.  I had only just got there.  So, I said, “I’m sorry, I twirl to the stage to find a refresh to light my glow.”  He looked astonished as I walked away, knowing full-well I play hard to get.

I went over to the bar to work my magic on another man.  I asked the bartender for a ‘jack-of-semen-and-coke’.  He said, “Okay.”  He took a glass out from the shelf.  “No!” I yelled, “Pour it…in this.”  I stuck out my hand with my palm up and cupped.  He looked surprised, oddly.  But he did what I commanded.  He poured the black fluid into my palm.  I licked the drink once like a cat and smiled at the man.  He nervously smiled back.  It was cute.

I tapped the shoulder of the man next to me so he would pay attention to me.  He turned around and looked at me.  Staring into his eyes, I again licked the liquid in the palm of my hand.  He looked down at my hand.  I nodded.  I did it again.  I knew I had him when his eyes opened as wide as possible.   But again, I didn’t want to play it this easy.  I wanted a man to reject me at least once.

The next man I went up to was a blonde man with a completely bald head.  “Live!” I said to him.  Then I did a hand stand and told him to touch the tip of the beak.  He pushed me over, and said, “Not cool man.”  I burst into tears.  I could not contain myself.  All the red mascara was going down my face as tears.  I knew it!  I was so embarrassed.  Another man stepped in and said, “No violence!”  He went up to me and stuck out his hand.  I looked into his eyes.  Blue.  Perfect.  Almost no pupil.  His black allergy mask covered most of his face.  But all I needed was his eyes for that night.

We didn’t even need to say a word.  We went back to my place.  “Don’t touch the floor,” I told him, “We have to use the walls.”  I climbed onto the wall, so my feet didn’t touch the ground.  I climbed all away to the other way to the room.  He followed me all the way to my bedroom.  I didn’t even need to look behind my shoulder to know he was.  I could hear him breathing through that mask.

By the time the foreplay was over, it was time for sex.  He had me first.  I had him third.  It was just like the movie, “The Hunger Games”.  I screamed violently with a face like Arnold makes in Total Recall as he pulls the tracking device out of his brain and left nostril, “PUT IT IN ME.”   He took out his bottle of lube.  “DON’T YOU DARE PUT LUBE IN.  I want it dry, you mother******!”   He tried to put on a condom.  “No condoms!”  I demanded.  The feeling was INTENSE.  PAINFUL.  My adrenaline was rushing.  For such a pleasurable activity, the devil really was smart in tempting humans into this perverse act.

Next, it was my turn to pleasure him.  He cried as I pounded and pounded him.  The command of a man was great.  I could see the appeal now of why a man would want to have sex with another man instead of a woman.  Dominating such a physically superior specimen was much more satisfying.

I finally took the train home to my wife and two kids.  It was great seeing them again.  That night I lay in bed smiling.  I had just proved the cause of homosexuality.  And I proved it could be cured too.  People can choose to be gay or straight.  I just choose to be the latter.