thou shalt not type after having an orgasm.
that’s like the fifth commandment of the jodiverse and here i am breaking it. i had full intentions of reading one more short story, masturbating and then falling asleep in with that wonderful sated feeling fantasizing about a man who would hold me and say, “your post-orgasm vulnerability is just one of the things i love so much about you.”
but that didn’t happen tonight.
instead post-orgasm as my body basked in the afterglow, my brain decided to kick things up a notch and start to whirring. now, here i sit, laying diagonally across my grown-up bed, typing fiercely into otto with my post-orgasm fantasyman fleeing the scene.
what got this whole thing started was as i was curling up with my comforter and fantasyman, i was thinking about people and you know what they do after the masturbate.
then i started thinking about how i really don’t want to know, but that’s just a big fat lie, i really do want to know. i want to know this stuff about everybody, except maybe my family. but most everyone else i don’t share a genepool with.
if i were a tad bit more uncivilized i’d be the type of person to ask those questions. i’d ask all sorts of rude and intrusive questions of most anyone if i could get away with it. not because i am nosy so much as i am just curious. i want to know what you think about right after you cum and i want to know what that last thing that made you cry was and i want to know why you stopped crying.
i want to know what your underwear drawer looks like and what your first memory is. i want to know this stuff about everyone. you and you and you. i want to know this of the people i know, the people i like and the people i dislike.
everyone has a story, i know this and i want to find out what it is. if only people were more willing to share and i wasn’t so afraid of being rude.
What does your keyboard smell like?
apologies if I bore you.
After I cum my mind turns a soft white for several minutes, and after a while slowly condences into a few forms… memories of the day, plans for tomorrow, dreams I hope to realize one day. Usually I end up watching the kitty klock’s tail bob back and forth until I wake up the next morning.
The last thing that made me cry… I wrecked my car. This was the early part of 2000. I am one of those people that got attached to their first car. I of course got one just like it, only cooler.
I stopped crying because I had nothing left to cry about. I am of course still sad about the event, but the damage is repaired and the scar is barely noticable. Nothing has happened to cause crying since. Well, maybe a little, in September…
My underwear drawer has folded up undies on the left, and on the right, socks folded in half. Sometimes there are more socks than undies, sometimes not. The dividing line moves back and forth to mirror my life: at the high points I remember to do laundry more and at the low points I change my socks more often.
My first memory, I think, is of my riding my bike (with training wheels) into the back of a truck parked over the sidewalk. I was looking behind me at something else. I was 3, I think.
please share more commandments of the jodiverse. I like #5, I believe I shall adopt it.