Gays. You know them as the fun-loving friends of Dorothy. The fabulous glitter-wielding, feather-wearing forms of comic relief whose complimentary tones of genuine candour could bring laughter to even the darkest of days. Whether they adhere to the typical stereotypes of campy, hip-swishing effeminate queens; muscle-bound, beer-guzzling jocks who unbelievably know what tries and centuries are or even the tattooed and shaven K.D Lang-loving lesbians; the gays will always find a way of brightening up a gal's day. Not only have they become more and more socially accepted in today's metro-modern society, but they have always been good for a girl's self-esteem. Whether it's the sympathetic shoulder to cry on or even the latest fashion advice, why would anyone want to pray the gay away?
But the rainbow, like most things in life, has two sides to the spectrum and sometimes you come across a pack of he-devils and she-wolves that give this peaceful tribe a rotten reputation. If you're living in a city as queer as Cape Town, you're bound to come across at least one of them, the select few of sociopathic sirens whose sole mission in life is to convert and traumatise heterosexual beings into a permanent state of sexual confusion. Ladies and gentlemen; I give you...The Flipping Gays.
It's no wonder why right-wing religious bible-bashers believe them to be soldiers of the antichrist sent to destroy the supposed natural order of the world. The Flipping Gays are devious in their approach and know no boundaries when it comes to sexual pleasure. Why deny it? You know you want to. As pleasing as the act may be, there is still a level of disrespect when it comes to the seduction of someone who is comfortable with their own sexuality. Of course it could've been that one time at band camp, but when it's forced and calculated with malicious intent, it's time to bring out the sexorcist.
Despite their existence, I strongly believe that at some point in everyone's life, even the straightest of straight has at the very least thought about it. That heavily repressed curiosity to have a sexual encounter with someone of the same sex. It's so taboo. So forbidden yet so necessary. It's an itch that the aforementioned bloodhounds would be more than happy to scratch, and while they may aid in bringing these tempting thoughts into action, doesn't it all come down to the choice we make at that particular moment? Could the very thought of it derail everything you found comforting about your sexual preference or could it actually liberate a secret suppression that's been tightly hidden behind one's closet door?
I sought guidance from professionals in this game and while they were known for embellishing the tales of their sexual conquests, you simply won't believe it unless you've actually witnessed it for yourself. For years I would watch them in awe, hunting in clubs and bars for unsuspecting victims, secretly wishing that I too could break that moral code and turn someone into something they weren't if only for the night. Was it their hyper-sense of confidence that made them seem so utterly irresistible or was it their penetrating persistence that permeated through all sexual barriers, no matter how hetero one thinks they are?
Kitty McKitty was a lesbian friend of mine who wasn't in any way what you would call a "conventional lesbian". She epitomised the male fantasy of lesbionics and came in the form of an exotic, petite, voluptuous brunette with honey-kissed skin to boot. She was charming, witty, direct in her approach and had the confidence of a thousand gods. Her sniper-like skills were legendary when it came to turning the ordinary girl's fantasy into a hard core reality. When she had a fresh target in sight, it was almost a guaranteed hit.
"I have a taste for the exotic you see. When you've been eating prime steak for all your life, you develop the occasional craving for veal." Yes. Some people actually do talk like that I'm afraid and what Kitty was saying was nothing short of the truth. I had witnessed her smooth moves for many years and always found it entertaining they way she managed to get it right. Whether it was some freshman debutant trying to make her college boyfriend horny or a yummy mummy cougar fresh out of a divorce, Kitty always gave her conquests a night to remember.
As I sank into another one of Kitty's latest shenanigans, I couldn't help but wonder about the women she had bedded. Was she really the culprit praying on unsuspecting victims and their respective vulnerabilities or do some women simply throw themselves willingly at the chance to experience this once in a lifetime sexperience?
"This last cougar's curiosity literally killed her cat. I had been chatting her up for about a week before I finally got a dinner invitation back to her mansion in Houghton. After some fine wining and dining, she wanted me to come up and see her bedroom. I told her that I was comfortable sleeping in the spare room but I could see that she wanted a bit more than friendly companionship. She took me upstairs and clothes began flying. I removed my boots and threw them vigorously to the ground. It was at this moment that I heard a thump. I thought nothing of it and continued to give her the dessert that she desired."
"She had fallen asleep in my arms after a night of intense pleasure, another conquest for my journal. At around 3am I got up to empty the alcohol we had consumed over dinner. I noticed my boot resting on something furry, a stuffed animal perhaps, but upon closer inspection, I noticed that it had actually been Mr. Whiskers, her 17-year old cat that had somehow been K.O'd in the crossfire of hot lady-loving passion. I panicked so I quickly moved the body into the room next door hoping that Lydia would wake up and believe it had died of natural causes. The only thing that died was her hard on. Bye-bye Kitty. Hello remorse. I'm not sure whether it was the guilt of last night's scissor action or the fact that she suspected foul play, but she kicked my ass out on the street without a ride and without half of my clothes." Is that what you call hitting two pussies with one stone?
We all have deep-seated sexual desires that most of us are too afraid to ever act upon. We've been conditioned to believe that anything slightly askew from missionary, hetero sex is shameful and forbidden. It's this taboo that makes it so appealing, so when the opportunity arises to act out our filthy fantasies in the dark, we're going to take it, secretly hoping that it will never reveal itself in the light of day. While the snake may have lured Eve into the garden of Eden to taste the forbidden fruit, at the end of the day, wasn't it Eve who made the decision to take a bite?
When it comes to the deviant nature of homo-erotic fantasies, les-be-honest, who's really hunting who?