Leeloo

it was like six months ago. i was on a date with this girl, and she was genuinely cool. we were at this cute little bar, she had amazing taste in cocktails, and we were actually vibing. for a second, i almost forgot who i was, you know? i was playing the part of the “adventurous straight guy” so well i think i even started to believe it myself. we’re a few spicy margs deep and we’re making out against the wall of the bar, and it’s getting, like, that vibe. she’s whispering something about how her roommates are out of town and my entire body just goes into this soft, pretty panic.

and i don’t know what came over me, but the thought of going home with her and having to perform… of having to fake this masculine energy i just don’t have… it was more exhausting than the idea of just telling the truth. so, right in the middle of a kiss, i just stopped and looked at her. and i said, so quietly, “i just need you to know… i’m not going to get hard.”

the look on her face was pure curiosity. not disgust, just… confusion. she asked why, and i couldn’t even say the words. so i just… took a breath, and hooked my thumb into the waistband of my jeans, and pulled them down just a little bit. just enough for the little rhinestone v of my victoria’s secret shine strap to peek out. that iconic, glittery red strap.

and it was like a switch flipped. i could literally see the horny leave her body, lmao. she obviously went dry, like, instantly. but she didn’t get weird or mean. she just… blinked, and then she laughed a little. and the entire vibe shifted. the pressure was just gone. suddenly, we weren't trying to fuck anymore. we were talking about how much we hated her heels. we were gossiping about the met gala looks from last year. by the end of the night, she was showing me her finsta.

now… a man’s body? that’s a whole different fucking story. that’s not art i admire from a distance, that’s a raw, physical, primal need. my brain doesn’t even have to think about it. you could show me a picture of some random hot dude who just got out of the gym, and my pathetic little clit would start leaking instantly. i don’t even look at his face first. my eyes go right to the muscles, the hard lines, the fucking power. i think about the deep v-line of his abs leading down into his sweatpants. i think about the veins bulging on his biceps and forearms. 🥵

but then my brain gets even nastier. i start thinking about the parts a “normal” person isn’t supposed to find hot. i get obsessed with the idea of being on my knees in front of him, my face buried in his crotch, and not even for his cock. i’m thinking about the musky, sweaty scent of his taint. that perfect patch of skin between his balls and his asshole that smells like pure man. i fantasize about the heavy, low-hanging weight of his balls, so full and ripe. i want to lick them, to feel their texture on my tongue, to breathe in his scent until i’m dizzy with it. 😮‍💨 that’s what gets me hard. not soft skin and perky tits. it’s hard muscle, raw sweat, and the filthy, animalistic reality of a man’s body.

pussyfree summer goals

hey! so glad you could make it to our fitness retreat! okay, so here’s the plan: you’re on photography duty, then you’re our designated sunscreen boy for all the hard-to-reach places, okay? and we mean all of them. it’s just so much easier having you here instead of some dude who’d be trying to get a feel the whole time, you know? you just look at our asses with, like… professional admiration. it’s not desire, it’s data collection. you’re taking notes for your own glute day routine, aren’t you? it’s so cute. you get to hear all our gossip about which guys from the surf camp we’re gonna bring back to the bungalow tonight. you can listen from your little cot on the porch. you’ll get to hear everything, and then in the morning, you can make us all smoothies while we tell you every last detail. it’s the perfect arrangement, right?

four girls, one gaybie

oh my god, sweetie, can you please pass me that bottle of poppers? yeah, the one next to your vogue menthes… thanks, doll. god, i’m so fucking excited for tonight. the air in here is literally thick with hairspray and cheap rosé and pure, unadulterated hot girl energy, i’m living for it. lisa literally just told us the most insane story about this finance bro she met on hinge… apparently he had a dick like, the size of her forearm? and she said his abs were so crazy she could have done her laundry on them. she’s gonna see him again after the club tonight… she’s already planning on what she’s gonna wear under her dress for him. a little black lace set. you’d like it.

it's so funny, you’re just perched there on the end of the bed like a little gargoyle while we’re talking about getting absolutely railed. your phone is practically glued to your hand, i bet you’re scrolling through grindr trying to find a man with abs just like lisa’s telling us about. it’s honestly so… convenient? having you here. we don’t have to censor ourselves at all. we can talk about getting spit-roasted and you won’t even flinch. you’re like a piece of furniture. a very helpful, gay piece of furniture who fetches us our drinks. you know you’ll never feel what it’s like to be inside one of us, right? we’re literally four naked girls and your dick has probably turtled all the way back into your body. it's just not designed for this environment. it's designed for… well, you know.

you’re not even listening, are you? you’re just staring at my freshly shaved armpits. you’re such a little freak, i swear. you know, jenna hasn’t shaved hers in like a week… you should ask her for a sniff later, as a little treat for being our designated driver. she probably won’t even notice, she’s too busy thinking about the real men she’s gonna be grinding on in two hours. it must be so weird to be you. surrounded by all this… and all you can think about is cock and armpits. god, what a waste. now go get me an ice cube, my rosé is getting warm. chop chop.

dua's lil sidekick

come 'ere properly, babe, let me fix that choker. stop fidgetin', yeah? i know you feel a bit exposed knowin' you ain't packin' like the lads we're meetin' tonight, but honestly? it's better this way. size is boring, innit? i don't need you to be a man, i need a bestie who looks fit in velvet. callum is comin' later to handle the heavy liftin' - if you catch my drift - so just relax into it. put on this gloss, pout for me, and accept that you're meant to be the pretty one, not the stud.