remembered the transvestites in London. Although it was clear that these were re-made men, they had chosen to go this way because they had felt a feminine essence for which they pay dearly with part of their lives, as the life of a transvestite is known to be 20—15 years shorter than that of a heterosexual. Their constantly need to refill their hormones, and some of them pay with a certain attitude against them and more often than not with broken dreams.
But how these women behave and carry themselves! Every female who does not understand that being a woman is a privilege given by God that cannot simply be washed away in the morning, crammed into the down coat and carried along in a shambling walk to work, where it is half-bent to drink coffee, grinned into a fist and the badly poorly colored hair straightened, should see this. If you were born a woman, please accept this privilege with pride.
So Christy thought, running her fifth kilometer. Every time, each moment she got closer to reaching the eighth kilometer, just when she was almost saturated with oxygen, or because of some other physiological causes in the body, she would feel an involuntary ejection into her brain of something reminiscent of coming, orgasm or something else like a rush. It was the delight of the possession- of the body, soul and all. A secret enthusiastic co-creation of her own physique and psyche.
Only, men’s eyes do not lie. Only, they are a real mirror. You can be even a hundred times beautiful, but if you don’t make men hard, consider your game lost. And vice versa; if they come in in droves, then it means there is something, and that something is sex appeal. Men, no matter how primitive they are, can always instantly read this. It does not matter how you are dressed; you could be in jeans, coats and sneakers, and all men could be turning around to look at your body with pure desire. The fluids of pleasure that a woman can give or not give are genuine. They are true, like real diamonds, whose brilliance is obvious, even for a layman.
The fact that men always think in terms of sex, Christy knew well. She understood sex perfectly, and could instantly see how good a man would be in bed. Having an excellent education and taste for everything beautiful, she happily engaged in painting, photography, stylistics, wrote scripts, and was pleased with how happy a person, who for decades has overtaken her compatriots by her thinking and perception of the beautiful, can be in Russia.
Now, however, she was fascinated by the sexual taste of the German, and therefore, creativity receded into the background. She was looking forward to Tuesday night, when this boy was supposed to be deep in her arms. Stockings, heels, corsets, the best underwear that the modern linen industry could provide was at her disposal. Christy was sure of herself more than ever. Her lips were red, her skin white, her hair dark and underwear black. Her silk sheets were yearning for hugs and touches, and the champagne was ready to explode …
“Hi, its Marcel,” Christy opened the door and literally dragged this enchanted wanderer in with her gentle hands. With no words spoken, just their lips touching, tongues and hands grappling each other, enjoying themselves on these silk sheets. Marcel poured Christy with champagne, kissed her, licked her body and enjoyed every inch of it, rejoicing at her sighs of passion, cries of pleasure and grateful smiles.
They had two hours of sleep before his flight. They seemed destined to be lovers since it was so natural and sweet for them to feel each other. No, this was not just sex, it was a loving meeting of friends, old lovers, two people who seemed to have known each other for a long time, who had a lot to talk about, laugh, and have love to spread …
Why do they write to me, come to me, fall in love and confess their love, then hate me, become jealous, leave, and then come back again kneeling and begging for love … these men, boys, husbands, youngsters… I don’t do women. I’m attracted only by male energy, the male physique, the male embrace. If I wanted, I could own them as my property, and no matter how long it lasted, I would enjoy it in full for the time that this romance or meeting would last, and then without regret, let the man go free on his way. I know that wherever he goes he would be dreaming of my embraces, because not everyone was given the chance to appreciate Christy just like that. Sometimes, months would pass before the men who had been in her arms came back and asked her to take them back, in any capacity, on whatever terms, and swore love and devotion, confessing that they had never had and would never have a better lover or better sex. Then Christy would always decide on response. Usually, the answer was “No”, and she would go ahead and block the bloke from all her social networks. Just because she would have lost interest. Sometimes, she would let some of these men to be her errand boys, but also without much interest.
The magic of sex and the aura of copulation were interesting to her. If someone did not understand the quality of what was happening at once, then he was not her person, even if everything was fine in bed. It meant that he was not as good as she was both mentally and spiritually. Sexual hedonism. That’s what Christy was interested in. And she was not going to stop with her experiments. Perhaps the other side of the medal was worth looking at, but Christy did not think about it, she liked to give up her mind and body to these young men, and she sincerely enjoyed the process.
Christy never really understood the whole concept of lust and love, so clearly divided into the bad and the good of the Christian religion. Nor did she understand the biblical democratic commandments about love and equality, with slaves and an obvious stratification of society both then and now. Probably, equality was applicable to a certain category of citizens, with the rest presumed to be unworthy of an equal distribution of earthly and sensual goods, and therefore had to obediently fulfill the obligations imposed on them by society and religion. What can be the instinctive call of the flesh, human chemistry and orgasms here, when you have to strap your once-upon-time “soulmate” to a pole and make him or her your “spouse”? All these “soulmates” from a past life only irritated Christy. Of course, there could be some pleasant memories, but there are no limits to perfection. Refining one’s brain, soul and body, a person needs a different level of being, including his or her sexual and spiritual perception. Therefore, it is perfectly normal that people break up. As one of the well-known modern classics said, no one leaves anyone. It is just that someone chooses to move ahead, and someone stays. Christy always chose to move forward. Perfecting her spirit and body, she always looked for the same hedonist, sexual maniac, intellectual who was ready for experiments. Of course, it would be great to find a genuine heart among these flawlessly built educated males, but Christy was aware that this would be the most difficult task. She tried to find just a cordial affection, but, funny as it sounded, these “big” hearts for some reason were always poorly educated, inexperienced or selfish in bed, had an unpleasant smell and lacked the “chemistry” that is so necessary in the relationship between the sexes. Therefore, paying little attention to the mundane desires of her heart, Christy admired herself and her attractiveness in men’s eyes, arms and embraces, and felt welcome and happy.
Sex is magic, shamanism, the incomprehensibility of the intelligible, the alpha and omega of this existence, darkness and light, and ecstasy that either comes, or does not. And is this not the animal-primordial call of the flesh to something more than a mere fusion of two bodies. Is it not he the progenitor of the love that everyone is looking for in this world, either hiding behind a desire to have it, or encountering disappointment all the time.
Sex is the chemistry between two bodies that transcends a person’s reality of existence; when the pulse, smell and flesh of another person’s become one’s own. And does it not lead to that great awesome … the love of the flesh, the love of the spirit, the soul. Acceptance, love, patience, adoration. It is quite unlikely that we can tolerate a person next to us with whom we do not mutually experience this animalistic overwhelming desire. Endure his character, see him in a different mood, forgive him for his mistakes. This is the basis of Christian patience. Human chemistry. Otherwise, it is a tear of human essence and consciousness, a conscious killing of ourselves for the sake of, in fact,
