Church

At church on Tuesday evening, I couldn’t take the image of cocks and pussies out of my mind. I did try. I really did.

It must be one of those ever-so-frequent can’t-think-of-anything-other-than-sex phases I’ve become so used to.

You know what I’m talking about don’t you? Constantly totting up the fuckability of every person I meet. On the tube, on my way to church, at church, on the way back from church, up the elevator at Westminster tube station. Nope, not a single person managed to avoid my fiddle-fuck-o-meter.

I need a new project. A sexually experienced fuck buddy, ideally. Second choice, a pottery course, perhaps.

Not quite sure how to get myself out of this sexual rut. Hopefully I won’t have to resort to another day at the Sauna.

Two weeks of (formal) bible study to go and I must say, the journey has been rollicking. I have met a lot of nice and interesting people and have learnt a great deal about a faith different to mine. The next step, I think, might just be Buddhism.

Do any of the world religions tolerate hungry, liberated sexual appetites? Is it ever holy to fuck?
I was always ambitious, though setting up my own church of gratification seems a little extensive at the moment