Keep Calm and Carry On

Oh, my poor, dear readers. You have been sorely neglected, haven't you? Anyone want to come over here and spank me for it?

So, I had a fairly amusing and upbeat diary entry planned. But I've just imbibed four pints of Worthingtons and the coffee I had afterwards has yet to kick in. And I've been getting all depressed with my friend Laura, so it ain't all going to be roses and kittens.

Unless I change my mind again.

Reason for depression? Lack of sex.

Or rather, lack of boyfriend. We're both suffering from this - and it isn't fun.

Actually, thinking about it, the entry I had planned was going to tackle this one. But in a more amusing way. I'll see if I can recall it for your delectation.

OK.

I want to just come out of the closet. (Again? I hear you cry...)

It's a different closet. This is the one where I'm not masquerading as straight.

I'm masquerading as a top. Yup. It don't always come across like it in my entries, but for the last couple of years (and I think it may be related to my height or general size or something) I have been forced to assume top.

But I don't want to anymore. I want to lie back and let someone fuck me through the mattress.

So, to facilitate that, I have prepared myself a personal ad expressing my desires:

6'1" blond male, 22, seeks older (22-40), dark haired guy to fulfill certain desires... Must be willing to shag me for weeks at a time.

Now, I'd never actually place an ad in the paper. But this way I get to have people read it (and feel free to reply - pictures and cock size appreciated) without having to pay for the privilege.

Ain't the internet great?

But this way I get to be a peroxide slut!

It's worth the horrible ammonia smell, I think.