Again

Stiff pant this morning. Again.

I remember everything. Again.

Same three people. That woman, still devastatingly, completely gorgeous, same impossible thick body, same warm skin. Both men. And me. I don’t recognize any of them. They are faces my brain constructed from nothing. I’m going with that.

But this time I wasn’t just watching.

I was on my knees.

I was giving fellatio to both men. Alternating. Getting them ready, taking my time with it, doing a thorough job, apparently, because in the dream logic of the whole thing I was very committed to the task. They were standing, I was kneeling, and the woman was watching from the bed. When I had done my part, I moved aside and they went to her. And then I watched the rest, which was very much like last time, that same slow devastating thing, her body, her sounds, her complete and total absorption in both of them.

I woke up and my brain just said: what the fuck.

I’m lying in the dark at some ungodly hour running a basic diagnostic on myself. Am I bisexual? Maybe. I mean, probably. I wrote about this already. But also maybe this is just what happens when you watch too much porn during a lockdown while your relationship is falling apart and your brain has nothing else to do with its energy. Pure neurological static. Content overflow. No deeper meaning.

It’s definitely that. That second thing.

Anyway. My pant is ruined and I need to do laundry now. This is my life.