Ultimate Fantasy 25 Sodom or Gomorra
Let me begin by telling you my ultimate fantasy.
I found it. Over on the bed was a pink satin nightgown. It was made from a beautiful soft pink satin that matched the soft pink nightgown that was about half the size of her hips. The necklace was of sorts, a set of twelve bracelets set into a pendant. It was a strange design that seemed to capture the essence of the feminine gender perfectly. It was a wondrous design, made by a person with a gift for design. She possessed the gift of the most intimate knowledge of men and women, and combined it with the gift of the most penetrating insight into their deepest secrets.
I reached up to remove the clasp and the moonlight streamed in through the broken glass and illuminated the white nightgown. There was a hand at my hip, but I was too drunk to do anything about it. All I could do was to pull the nightgown down around my waist, so that the moonlight streamed through the crack in the material as I played with the clasp. As I did this, a hand came up to cup my mouth and toying with the gold stars that adorned the crescent moon that was now partially covered by the midnight blue sky. I pulled it away just enough for the moon to partially illuminate the room as it slowly began to fade from the sky. With a quiet “Ah,” the hand went back and I was awash in a sea of stars.
I was completely drenched in the brilliant blue midnight that was now partially covered by the sunset gold that had been added by the night gladiators. The darkness was so thick that stars shined slightly more intensely as they passed in front of me. I looked up into the face of an angel. Smiling at the ceiling, I continued: I swam back to the dock, filled with my desire to fuck another person. Suddenly a hand grabbed my wrist and I felt it slip from my hand. I instinctively grabbed at it but it was too strong. I fell onto the bed and lay there in a daze for some time.
Suddenly the phone rang. It was Emily. On the other line was a woman’s voice. It was a warm, feminine voice, almost feminine in tone. She said, I don’t suppose you could get laid in New Orleans, but there is a place in the District that has some nice women. I picked up the phone and spoke into it. I tried to remember the restaurant and the place, but the words ran together in my head so fast that it was like looking at a jumble of information. I said, I need to go to Kitty’s now. I have a cab with a number that starts in D.C. I can call from there and tell her where I am, and that is all. She said she could give me the number and that was all. I remember her saying that the place was dirty, but I could get it over there if I wanted to.
I felt a surge of desire that day I never got before. I wanted to finger myself and touch myself. I walked into Kitty’s and ordered my food. As I was putting my order, Emily came over and took my order and read it to me. I remember thinking how silly it was to do that in front of her because she knew I would be embarrassed. She explained that she knew a lot of the guys at Kitty’s and that it was her way of showing them off to other guys. She talked about how it felt like they were staring at her in the diner, which made me laugh. She then took me into a bedroom and showed me myself. I was amazed at myself. I was 5’3” and I had big hands and round waists. I had big hands and long legs that gave me a jogging gait. My hands looked sexy in the dark because of the makeup they were put over them. I felt so sexy having sex with a woman because I knew it would be me showing off. I could control my breathing because of the masks I wore. At first I was embarrassed by the idea of showing.
I asked Emily if she thought men would be interested in me because of my body. She said it was plausible. Then I thought about all the places I had gone to girls had told me they thought I was hot, so I told her it sounded plausible. She said she had to talk to you. Talk to me. I have a hard time letting go of fantasies about sex with women, even though I want to try it. But I have to face facts. When a man leaves me, he leaves his wife and child for a woman. That’s a frightening thought. And even though I know it doesn’t mean things are going to change, I still feel a deep kinship with that poor girl. She may not be around to see it, but I will always have that window of opportunity. That night, I had a fag. I have a secret. I only eat it after sex. I know that’s a turn-on, but it’s all too much trouble to get it down. Just make it a Sodom or Gomorra. Maybe that’ll turn some heads.
Do you like to have anonymous sex in public rest rooms? Sex movies? Public parks? Sex clubs? On street corners with heavy hustling traffic? How many nonsexual friendships or acquaintances lasting for decades started this way? How many ways are there to love queers? How many ways are there to queer love?
Let me begin by telling you my ultimate fantasy.
- Queer AI
- Trained Model
- Perplexity 0.9
- Seed 950
Prompt adapted from A Queer History of Computing