Imaginary Love 2

At the end of the last sentence, a noise erupted in my head. The males were the first to burst into the room, which had become my oasis, at least for a little while. It was as usual at this time of day.

Shouts mixed with noise. Being a calm person by nature, I didn't use violence against them. I'd go even further: if I were to administer corporal punishment to a male, I'd be out of my comfortable job the next day. I couldn't touch the females; I'd rather pet them. There would be two such "copies" in every classroom. But I wasn't taking any chances, especially since this was a prestigious institution.

"You'll survive somehow, this crappy forty-five minutes, and the next one too, and the next one too." Especially since no one respected what I had to say. I could have skipped the board-ordered education.

Teaching here felt discouraged, as if I were working on something that had no end. There's a designated beginning to the work, but there's no way to perfect it. It's not that I don't like it here. On the contrary, I consider this place the perfect breeding ground for a forward-thinking, even "golden" generation. The point is, however, that discouragement and dejection came and went slowly from my world.

The same dejection mixed with discouragement that I feel on Sunday mornings. It's etched in my mind that the next day hangs in the air. There's no need to make any sudden moves, but one thing is certain: the next twenty-four hours are the beginning of a long week of torment, ending only on Friday. Back in the same place.

From today on, my Anuś "covered" these negative feelings. Not only did I start talking about her in my head, but I also became as enthralled as a boar with a "boar lady," no offense to gays.

You're probably thinking now, what a jerk I am, and a practicing Catholic at that? That's just how I am; I started separating physical and emotional love from religious matters. If "coitus" between two lovers must occur, let it happen within the confines of my home. This also applies to my Anka, who has already had a run-in with me. I remain a devout believer in my faith, but a certain event meant I no longer associated private coitus with church matters.

It happened quite by accident, like few of you. At the age of twelve or thirteen, I noticed one night that my father's footsteps were leading him toward the kitchen. I thought he meant the cookies he wanted to devour behind my back—he was as big a sweet tooth as I was. I decided to follow him and stopped at the last moment. "My old man is rummaging through the trash," I muttered to myself.

And with that hint of joy in his voice, he truly looked as if he'd just experienced great happiness! I decided to stay out of his way and wait out his moment of happiness at a safe distance—in an alcove by the entrance. When he finished his practice, he went back upstairs. And I decided to see what this man was doing with the garbage can at what seemed like four in the morning! Without waiting for my overheated imagination to cool, I reached into the can and, in the moonlight, spotted a balloon on top!

It wasn't just any children's balloon, but an unusual condom. I was familiar enough with the subject to immediately recognize what it had just been used for:

the perfect crime! To make matters worse, I'd heard (or overheard) many times from my mother's older friends that this practice was practiced everywhere, in every family! At church during a youth mass, to my luck, the priest revealed the secret of this weapon: "Thanks to this device (he slid a condom in front of us) your little sisters and brothers are dying!"

So my mom and dad were criminals? And elusive! And I already considered them immaculate role models. Oh, foolish me!

At that time, I couldn't understand much; the practicalities of sex were still shrouded in sweet mystery. I only understood that my mom and dad were acting wrong. But because of their authority and power, I couldn't change it.

Today, I know that people put on several masks to hide their true thoughts and desires. To this day, there are plenty of people in church whom I know with certainty are digging a tunnel for their beloved female with a "hood." They don't make a big deal out of it, however, because they believe that what they leave in confession doesn't have to be the whole truth about ourselves, but only a fragmented part, cleverly prepared long beforehand. It's hard to say.

Thanks to these musings, I survived another day in the "kennel."

I gave the females and the males, who were horny for them, a few tasks to complete, and although they didn't care a damn about me, I had my desired peace. And my thoughts were swirling around Anusia again, this time at the speed of an electron.

After returning home, I was floored. While physical labor was foreign to me, I wanted to know if it was as mentally absorbing as the one I'd plunged into once and for all. That was all I remembered that day before bed.

Well, yes, because there was also a dream. You've already seen my relationship with sex—it was completely free from the power of the habit, thanks to my parents! I'll even say more, it was completely free from anything but fantasies! And during my nap, I experienced one of them.

My brain, despite producing a specific dream each night, rarely gave me the opportunity to remember this mysterious phenomenon upon waking. For the past few days, it had been quite different. Not only did I remember, but I remembered it in detail!

The dream gained color as my revolving imagination added exactly three females to it—don't ask what species, because that should be obvious.

They were all Muslims, reading the Koran before bed. This gave me the feeling that they could all be mine. Of course, my subconscious

realized there could only be one female in Eve's costume, but at that moment, I had three before me. Apparently, in this dream, I was, like them—a follower of their religion, because they told me each of them was my wife! At first, it intimidated me.

I wanted to babble, through common sense, "How is that possible?" "The practice of polygamy in the mind of a devout Catholic, you've got it." "With one female, you can do a lot, but with three"?

But the reality persisted. And best of all, they were all naked and so docile! After a quick inspection, I realized they were all beautiful women, including me! They were even willing to obey my orders, as long as they stayed within the bounds of Muslim law, which, of course, I had no idea about. A wonder of women, these foreigners!

I could approach them and even touch them, then out of nowhere they started cuddling me, and when I took off the last of my clothes (there weren't many), I introduced them to my "Wacek." Then, another shock: like unusual Polish females, they welcomed him with joy. They also told me what they could do to him, with my consent and permission.

One of them immediately began nipping him with her sticky lips, and my most secret desire, of all the men in the world,

"to pack my business into three holes." The males are already blushing, I'm just hastening to explain for the dear females. Well, it's about your intimate parts, and not just yours.

Let's start from the beginning: a pooh, a croak, a tongue connected to the lips. To that tongue and lips, I'd add the entire esophagus, so I could release my accumulated "milk" from my scrotum.

I know this sounds a bit sadistic, perverse, animalistic, and whatever else your tainted mind (blocked to all novelties, open only to the "missionary") dictates. But be aware of one thing, my dear females: the hidden needs of your beloved males will consciously arise in their minds throughout your relationship. It's only a matter of time before you put the "three holes" plan into practice, or perhaps allow yourself to be swapped for another model with this option? It's up to you. Just don't let your "common sense" get the better of you; it's already been stuffed with morals, and it'll be hard to find an excuse!

"It's disgusting, I won't humiliate myself like that," one female will say, while another will echo her, saying she's not a slut!

My vision might seem flawed here; after all, not all of you have the desire or the inclination. Are you confusing church matters with sex again? Not good. Think about the condom that held your little sister or brother; your parents had no remorse!

Then you will be liberated, I assure you. After some time spent with your beloved male, you will know when and how to activate the "three holes" operation. Even the "two holes" once your roadrunner has opened one for you. However,

if even that doesn't appeal, then... Specially for reluctant females and their males who lack one of their five inner senses, I will offer the information that such stories should also occur in nature.

Unfortunately, they don't, for a simple reason, as it turns out.

The mother of all living things, called "Nature," endowed other creatures, to a small degree, with five internal senses, already known to humanity in the Middle Ages. Here we are dealing with judgment, imagination, memory, fantasy, and a common sense that "glues" it all together.

The example of mammalian mice clearly illustrates how these qualities have been lacking in our terrestrial companions since the dawn of time.

As demonstrated in a scientific experiment, a male of the aforementioned species became bored with his partner!

This happened when he copulated with only one female for an extended period of time.

After two months, the mouse stallion completely lost interest in his mate. However, it was enough to introduce a new female into the cage, and the male quickly regained his vigor! What conclusion can we draw from this? That everything becomes boring over time, even something as mystical as one-hole sex! That male mouse lacked what people call imagination, judgment, fantasy, memory, and finally, a common sense.

With a sensory arsenal as acute as a human's, a mouse-like male mouse could have lasted longer with his female, perhaps even half a year!

The frequency of such "mating" between mice, extended to a human life, meant that, ladies, your favorite male mouse, after being given the "three-hole" treatment, would sooner slink to your side than find another lady for company.

I've just realized, having rescued millions of couples from marital troubles in our country, what a joy! Just watch the multitude of therapists and psychologists being sidelined!

How foolish I am, I'm chatting away, and I didn't tell you about my dream!

It's foolish to admit it, but the ending wasn't a happy one for me.

Well, after having "traditional" intercourse with my first wife, I was already moving on to the next one, and as soon as I aimed my "fireman's man" at her other hole (the crack), she (this seemingly docile wife) categorically forbade me from doing so. She cited the teachings of the Quran, in which Allah categorically forbade such a thing. I immediately wanted to tell her about our fathers' condom... but then the worst happened: the awakening!

"You've got a fate." Spitting in my face, I noticed a wet stain on my boxers. "You fucked them nicely, my friend; you probably masturbated, and in your sleep!" This was too much, even for me. I decided not to bother with the trivialities and prepare for tomorrow's, oh-so-unofficial meeting with my Anusia.

And now for what you've all been waiting for so impatiently—continued