Sex is a Drug.

Sexuality is everything now-a-days.  We think about it when we wake up with morning wood.  We think about it in the shower.  We think about it to help us not think about work.  We think about it when our wives won’t give it to us.  I got on this topic because I was at home thinking about sex and the repercussions of constant sexual stimuli.  The more I thought about it, the more I came to the conclusion that sex is a drug.  Follow me on this;

Sex makes you feel good.  Fuck, it makes you feel fantastic.  Makes your problems go away for that short high you get.  It releases chemicals into your brain to make you feel good.  It inhibits logic and makes you say some really stupid things in the heat of the moment like referring to your current copulation partner as a “piece of Tokyo ghetto pussy”.  I don’t even know what that means but I will say it if you play with my dick like it was a controller to an old Atari 2600.

Think about this.  I don’t want you to read this and say “He’s talking about sex.  Heh.”  I want you to THINK.  What makes sex similar to a drug?

The release of chemicals in your brain from sex.  When I’m fucking, I don’t bother thinking about the outside world.  All I can think about is putting my Ogopogo in someone’s Loch Ness.  I become a junkie.  A shut-in.  Staying indoors in a dark room sweating it out while I get my fix.  Once I get my fix and she leaves, on one hand, I feel empty inside but on the other, I feel like a champ.  Laying there in a spot that was made from yours and hers sweat, having the smell rise and it hits you and reminds you of the high you had just moments ago.  Makes you feel like a fucking champ.

Is it illegal to buy drugs?  Yes.  Is it illegal to buy sex?  Yes.  Some people need their hits though.  They need it so bad that they’ll pay for it.  They quiver and look around to see if they’re spotted by the 5-0.  Make a shady deal in some back alley with a prostitute with only one leg and she’s too lazy to maintain that one leg so there’s hair growing everywhere and you think to yourself, “Fuck, it’s just one leg.  Is she really that lazy?”  They give her the money and she does what she does and then they walk away a bit happier than they were when they went into that alleyway that was lined with broken bottles and even more broken dreams.

The inability to think rationally is generally a male trait.  I’m gonna be the first to say it.  If a woman says I’m gonna get the chance to hit the hay with her, I’m powerless.  I will give you what ever you want.  You want the moon?  All right, let me pull that bitch down.  This?  Oh, this is a tractor beam I whipped up exclusively to pull down the moon and other moon sized objects.  Well, you said we were gonna fuck, right?  That is how a typical Saturday night is for me.  A lack of clear choice when in the presence of this “drug” can lead to many things.  STD’s.  Children.  Or in a worst case scenario; Marriage.

Do all these insights change anything for me?  No.  I like fucking.  If somehow down the road, the government finds a way to outlaw sex thus labeling as a drug, I’m still gonna do it.  Do you wanna know why?  Because I’m a junkie.

Just.  Like.  You.



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