If We Describe Gay Sex To People, They Will Turn Against Homosexuality

Homosexuality.  The very mention of the word brings images of barrel-chested men glistening in the sun, their hard earned muscles quivering and begging for a massage after a grueling day of turgid labor, watching the sweat drip from each other’s brow.

Perhaps for my female readers out there, a sultry librarian, skulking about like Velma from Scooby Doo, giving you the ‘explore my secret nethers’ stare and tooting her generous backside upwards, pretending she cannot see without her glasses.

The imagery of homosexuality is vivid and raw, always sensual.  It overpowers the mind and leaves you lusting for a chance encounter, a pleasure-filled night of loin diving passion with a member of your own gender.

It is no secret.  My friend and Christian Pastor Haywood Bynum III revealed how homosexuals are constantly grooming us, making us covet their lifestyle and preparing us to succumb to their wild fantasies of conquering fertile new grounds.

Behind all the romanticized, media generated mystique of homosexuality — top fit bodies engaging in neat, tidy acts of pleasure — is a bare and rancid truth that will turn the belly sideways:  the acts of gay copulation explore the deepest depths of the body, germs and musks all colluding to create a very unsanitary experience.

Unknown to the casual observant of homosexuality are the bitter truths.  For instance, do you know that before engaging in acts of backside pleasure, the ‘power bottom’ (the man who submits himself) must forcefully and thoroughly clean himself with Clorox bleach?  This process is not for sanitation, as you would imagine, but instead to make the experience more ‘fiery and struggling’ for whoever is on top.  Such savage barbarism in the bedroom is a far cry from the muted, stifled passions a proper man and woman would share in such an encounter.

But the bizarre, frightening absurdities do not stop there.  There is this space-age substance called Astro-naut Glide that you can buy and gay men use, generously slathering the oil as if the Exxon-Valdez had a new hole ripped into its hull.  After the ‘top’ liberally applies this substance to his squirmy power bottom, he plunges in, eyes scrunched in selfish-glee as his growing, breathy thrusts foreshadow his coming moment of explosive ecstasy.  Uninitiated and tight from never experiencing such forceful passion before, the power bottom may accidentally ‘let go’ his intestinal belongings during those moments, creating a distinct funk during this whole process and when you mix that with all the oil sploshing going on and steamy climate from the body movement, it is only a matter of time before E.coli and other gay associated bacteria make an appearance.

Why is it that gay men experience a higher rate of bacterial infection than men of standard orientation?  Read that prior paragraph again and the knowledge will swell in your head.

At this point, my dear readers, I am sure many of you are horrified.  Bleach being used to rub the skin raw so passionate contact is a weird mix of exciting and uncomfortable, fiery and seductive?  The funks of passion being confused with the adrenaline of submission and dominance dichotomy?

Male homosexuality is all very confusing, but the beast known as female homosexuality (lesbianism) is even more shocking.  Unless I had a commissioned novel series at my disposal, I could not really do justice in describing all the love triangles and creatively shocking sensual acts participants in the LGBT community create.  But let me tell you this, raw lesbianism is truly surprising, conniving and easy to fall into.

My ideal lesbian is the character Velma Dinkley.  On the surface, she looks calm and innocent, her glasses hiding bedroom eyes that constantly calculate ways to disturb and lure the minds of innocent women exploring their local library.

With seductive bending in her short skirt, the ‘Velma’ out there will quickly attract attention, using quite moments of intense mental focus to draw attention to herself.  Men, we have all heard of our wives, perhaps experimenting with her roommate that one time in college, when they were exhausted at 3 a.m. and studying for their Economics 300 exam.

For some women, that 3 a.m. experience is never enough.  They always want some late night clam dabbling, that is diving straight into the hidden oysters of an otherwise non-lesbian woman.  A recent poll in Cosmo magazine reveals that 80% of married women dream or fantasize about lesbian participation, while over 65% have engaged in female mouth pleasuring and a whopping 50% with scissor techniques, behind the backs of their husbands and families.

To describe these acts in full detail would invoke unprecedented levels of moral outrage for you right now, so I will stifle the details of ‘scissoring’ and ‘mouth pleasures’ for now and save the revelation for a publication with more levity in detail for that type of thing.  But let me tell you this, every media-inspired thought whipping through your head right now, of Velma’s powerful, creamy thighs straddling your wife or girlfriend, making her heart race with anticipation of what comes next is only the tip of the iceberg.  There is nothing cold about lesbianism, it is always primal and exotic, women attacking the most intimate parts of one another like a tribe of hungry Amazonians attacking a satyr on their mystical Themyscira island.

My dear friends, the allure of homosexuality will be forever present.  It can be very tough to resist, the modern day equivalent to the sweet, ruby-red forbidden fruit Eve laid before Adam some 6,000 years before.

But it is my firm belief by describing the surface of homosexuality to you, that at least 20% of you will be so sickened by thoughts of space age lubricants being used to bring intestinal splendor, allowing a man to go where no man was intended to go before will turn you off the entire notion of experimentation.  The shame, soreness and internal moral outrage you feel after each time you find yourself squirming and squealing underneath the experience of a professional gender deviant will leave you shaking your head each morning after, asking “Why?” and wondering if you can break the cycle you’ve allowed to creep into your life.

When you are invariably invited to be a power bottom for a gay man or scissor partner for a lesbian, simply say ‘No’  and let the imagery I’ve painted be your mind’s motivation for abstinence.