66. Cock tales
Simple. I have to gawk at other pairs of boobs.
My saving grace... B2B. No, not business to business, angel; body to body. Massage by masseuses in the nude, handjobs by breasts wielding babes.
Occasional CFNM humiliation.
I had to detach the notion of mammary from love. And the more titties I saw, the more impersonal they became. Just two ridiculous fleshes of fruits which turned me on, and just so happen, my ex-girlfriends were lodged with them.
But to completely swap love for lust is impossible. I still miss her, the woman who so impacted my life. That is why, now, even as a demigod, I cannot divorce those desires, but on the contrary, continually run back to the cleavage of love, bawling on meat pillows. Enamoured by the one and only goddess, the celestial mother with manifold visages; she who bore us all, nurtured us all, protected and guided us all; our queen, our matriarch, our wife and daughter; our universal whore.
I seek her, but never find her. Only glimpses of her beauty in every lusted woman, shades, divine dust descending on all divas. But the glitter disappears, for no mortal, or even eternal female, possesses that exquisite perfection; for all ladies are in the end made destitute by the decadence of men. And so true too is this dilemma echoed in the planes of the gods. In fact, this flaw flowed from the Garden of Eden, when we were yet deities. Spineless Adam lost Eve to competition. Spineless Adam lost Eve to the Serpent. And cast out from paradise, he’d been trying to woo her back ever since. But she always prefers the Serpent, who is darker and more mysterious, and dangerous.
She forever falls for the bad boy who abuses her, beats her, manipulates her, and sadistically tortures her heart till it’s broken and marred and ugly. Till her hotness is melted off her; then only Eve regretfully returns to Adam, all emotionally derailed, and clingy, and mascara molten by tears.
Poor man, he is blasted by the pathetic side of love; he must be contented with that sorry bag of skin, which is her remnant, which is the opposite of his desires. What he honestly wants is her beauty, but the devil’s robbed him of it already.
So, who do you really want to be, Mr. Man? The good guy? Or the diabolical dark gentleman?
But what or who the hell I truly seek, I don’t know. Perhaps a woman beyond all this childish play, a woman who cannot be seduced by the charms of the Serpent, a woman bigger than my cock, elevated above my ego. A woman unaffected by worldly concerns.
She does not exist on Earth, not even on numerous strata of heavens. So, what is a heartbroken, tired of love man stuck on Earth to do? He carries on with his charade, and he writes a second novel, one on the adventures of Mr. Dick going around the world. The royalties he gets from this, he spends on more exotic ‘cocktails’ for his cock...tales.