Perverted Sex Odyssey

Photos by Bella.

I’ve been asked to write a sex column for the new youth culture magazine, Platform. It’s great, because now when people ask me what I do for a living, I can say, “Oh, me? I’m a columnist,” rather than “I suck dick for crack.” Actually, I don’t even need someone to ask me what I do in order to say ‘I’m a columnist.’ I can just wander around all day saying ‘I’m a columnist. I’m a columnist. I’m a columnist,’ and no one would be able to call me a liar. Here is the first instalment of my sex-column for kids.

Well fuck me. My very own sex column. I feel just like Carrie Bradshaw, only prettier and with a far bigger nose. It looks like all these years of mindless fucking and ecstasy-induced blowjobs are finally paying off. I love proving my subconscious wrong.

In fact, I almost feel like I should take back all those Our Father’s and Hail Mary’s I’ve racked up in repentance of my promiscuity. Or better yet, I’ll just save them for the next time I really fuck up. That’s allowed, right? Because I figure with twelve years of Catholic school under my belt, plus all the voluntary praying I did back when I still thought it was possible to be ‘saved,’ and I must have at least enough pray credit stored up for one solid get-out-of-hell free card by now.

So, where do we begin? Actually, hold on. Before we take this budding, and probably doomed relationship any further, there’s something I should probably mention; I have a boyfriend. Under normal circumstances this wouldn’t be a problem, but considering that the task at hand is to write a weekly column in the matter of sex, romance, and the crippling delusion commonly referred to as ‘love’, I think being a slave to the same dick every night might put a slight damper on things. Point being, this could get very boring very quickly (for you and me both).

So, what to do? I’ve always said, if something’s worth doing, it’s worth doing right. So if I’m really going to go for it with this column- really get my mouth around it and suck hard- some changes are going to have to be made. First and foremost, this whole monogamy just won’t do. As vile and tedious as it sounds, it’s going to be essential that I have fuck-loads of depraved sex with as many young boys as humanly possible. This will be in order to attain the essential amount of information needed to create a satisfactory literary product. Naturally.

Being the caring person that I am, however, I figured I should run my plans by my boyfriend before I officially set off on my perverted sex odyssey.

“Honey, you know this column I’m about to start writing?” I said to my boyfriend over breakfast a recent morning.

“Yes,” he said, soggy blobs of Corn Flakes dripping from his lips and onto his chin. “What about it?”

“Well… how would you feel about me sleeping with other people for research?”

“What do you mean research?” he said, removing a globule of morning eye scum.

“Well I was thinking it might be interesting to write an article about the most effective ways to make a man climax using anal stimulation,” I said. “So basically my plan is to get a bunch of guys to let me finger their assholes, and then write a conclusive article based on the results I find. It’s all very scientific.”

The scrawny bastard didn’t have a response to this, but I interpreted his rolling of the eyes and turning away from me with a look of disgust as a big fat YES. That always worked with my mother growing up, anyway.

So, as of right this very moment, as I sit in my bedroom, typing these words with one hand and holding a kitchen knife to my throat with the other (I’m not depressed- this is just how I work), I promise you to do everything in my power to make this the most illuminating, most educational, most vomit-inducing, most painfully sinful column I possible can, just to bring you the filth you deserve. I vow that I will dig deeper, kiss longer and suck harder than any woman before me. I won’t let your down. Now, off to the shops to buy some supplies. Latex gloves- check. Amyl nitrate- check. Trident to spear myself with if my mother ever reads this- check.

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