The Craziest Sex/Sex Experience I Ever Had

Door #1  I've never had any that could be construed as crazy.  Which, in itself, is crazy.  In fact, people who've had crazy sex envy me for my traditional steadfastness.  They marvel and drool at how I can find an endless rerun, or even drought, utterly cool.

Door #2 I once got off in class as a freshman in college while taking a midterm Chemistry test and just thinking about the stunning girl sitting in front of me.  And I flunked the test with a big fat 0 because the professor left the classroom before I had a chance to turn it in and wouldn't accept it thereafter.  So she may not have F-ed me, but he did.

Door #3  She dragged me into the girl's restroom and locked the stall's door.  She proceeded to strip entirely naked and required that I do the same.  She then positioned herself upon the toilet seat, straddling the gap,  wrapped her legs up in a reverse-lotus style behind her head  and said  “Now Cum!”  I….I….I….well, she groaned and smothered herself in a certain biological emollient, rubbing it all in and all about her body—privates, breasts, and pierced tongue.  Just afterwards, I thought I heard someone approaching, freaked (because of the locale), ran for my life, and I never saw her again.

I fell asleep at the keyboard again last night.  It seems I'm falling alseep everywhere but in bed--on the floor, in the shower, in a chair, sometimes even head to the keyboard.  Maybe I should design a keyboard with soft, fluffy keys that can double as a pillow.  And each key would have a little hypodermic-type injecting sensor so that after I fall alseep, they could shoot into my head, and type my dreams as I experience them.  I can see it now…a repetitive synapse burn of s-e-x, s-e-x, s-e-x…

 No, not really.   I hardly ever dream about sex, actually.  What do you think I am, some kind of fantasy-fiend?  No, I'm an on-again, off-again lucid dreamer mostly, so my dreams are always about *scenes* -- backwater takes on energy raveling and unraveling, strangers talking, whispering, crossing streets, smoking on benches, walking by the sea.  None of it ever makes much sense, except upon the rare occasion that I  flow precisely with the lucidity and am able to seduce the dream.  Then all the gibberish and cross-referencing becomes intelligible and I am listening, sensing, feeling, knowing, reaching out to the world, this world, our world, other worlds—through dream energy, by directing the dream.  But, of late, the art of such has eluded me.  So I've only been dreaming of chaotic, shadowy, whispery *scenes* where humanity get anonymously amassed and the morass of oblivion eventually enshrouds me.

Just a thought: Is falling asleep at the keyboard on the Internet Highway the same as falling asleep at the wheel?

Did I crash?  Did I burn?  Is this?…no, I don't want know.

Having revealed my white light
--was it open-soul surgery?--
all has faded as it fled
--to enlighten a vast darkness?--
yet darkness is all that I am left,
darkness and nothing within.

So let nothing be.

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