Cum and Go
by Matthew Scott GualcoI love you, New York, but you are killing the true romance in this so called ‘Sex and the City’ nightmare that has a beautiful reality of live and learn, and learn again, and you think you would understand by now because you’re a fucking adult, goddammit. Let’s just face it; we all like to cum, men and women alike. In the weird science world they call it an orgasm - the sudden discharge of accumulated sexual tension, the sweet release of physical sexual simulation of the brain, the temporary decrease in the metabolic activity of the large parts of the cerebral cortex, and the normal or increased metabolic activity in the limbic areas of your brain. It’s a lot to think about, and in this New York cum and go wildlife of animals that walk the gray streets trying not to step in dog poop (or is that human poop?) there’s so much shit to deal with in your life and under your shoes it just makes things more interesting - like a tabloid that you can judge by the cover, and we all do it, and that’s okay with us. Whatever, right? Move on, nothing to see here, put up that police tape: “CRIME SCENE DO NOT CROSS,” but we all just want to cum for the sake of cuming - that sweet ejaculate of god all mighty, we all say his name in vain and pleasure whether you’re eating a cheeseburger or getting your pussy or your dick wet. You’re Santa Claus and you know if you are naughty or nice, and you don’t have to check that list once or even twice because you know that felt really nice! Can we try again? See if we can cum twice? Did I just get you wet? Or make your dick jump? I hope, at least, some nipple stimulation to pass the time, because once upon a time in Brooklyn on that $95.00 dollar date - who was not my soul mate but rather one of those dear diary moments - I can still remember the star of David tattoo just under her left boob and the light pink bra slipping to her belly, and when she starts to unzip her pants and slide her left hand down to masturbate, as we spoon in my bed, I think to myself “so this is really happening,” and she says “this is happening,” and I say “sounds good to me,” and I lick her nipple and touch her breast, just under the star of David, on that Thursday night, and I watch her climax as my hand guides above her jeans and her hand moves down below where the sun can’t know or show. Some girl on tinder called Lindsay says it’s ‘totally normal’ to masturbate on the first date and “yeah? I’m surprised, it happened to you once?” and she says “I usually wait for the second date to do that,” and “no shame in the cum game.” Thank you, Lindsay, for that magical input. Then she says “usually it’s not my first move, nor is it my go to move.” And she says “the first O takes time, so there has to be a build up, second and third are easy afterwards.” I’m learning a lot today about sex and how this strange city somehow works its magic on us, as Lindsay says “I’m perpetually torn between being a lady in the streets and a freak in the bed. I fantasize about being fucked by strangers and doing dirty things, but when it comes down to it, I want to be wooed first.” Between a rock and a hard cum place. |
Pamphlet. Magazine - 2014 -