The Horny Atheist

Life after Breaking up with god



I’m Not Trying to Change Your Life…


We hung up the phone and I wondered how 3 hours had passed and I wasn’t left feeling robbed?


I was Horny. Yet if you don’t understand by now, horniness comes upon me like a warm breeze, out of nowhere and for reasons unknown. My horniness is never mutually dependent on sexual stimulation. Actually, my horniness is usually independent of sexual stimulation.


I pondered my state of arousal… Wondering if it was the person who tickled my ears with new revelations that caused my nipples to harden, or was it something deep inside of me that smelled something familiar that caused my cheeks to flush and my vagina to constrict and contract. I didn’t get it. But I welcomed it... The full foreplay of it.


I wanted to pick up the phone and thank him for reminding me that I was not completely sealed in the coldness of my existence.


If I called him, he might very well think it was about him. Yet, if I didn’t call him, he might very well think it wasn’t. So… I will send him a snippet of a Dan and John song to see if his response stimulates me in the same way his lack of intention did.


I haven’t loved anyone but God since I, crawled, walked, and then ran breathless away from his “everlasting arms.” I’ve been in a strange place. Being a sapiosexual who also really enjoys sex has left me always half full. I’m surrounded by life long Religious people who, don’t believe in the bible, but pretend to worship every page. They praise the holy word with tongues that still smell of oral sex and Ciroc. My Personal inbox is full of Sunday penis pics and requests for holy ass shots.


I hate hypocrites. Yet… I want to feel a beautifully sculpted throbbing penis breaking down the walls of my well maintained, manicured, vagina. A vagina worthy to be praised, that grips and forms perfectly around those who venture in.

The Dilemma is… Rewiiinnnd… I HATE Hypocrites!


So here I am. Mentally unstimulated. SEXLESS. The departure from God has left me surrounded by men who still believe in FAIRYTALES. Wanting to fornicate their way to communion service. Hoping to get out the, “forgive me father,” before their heart stops or the Rapture comes.


Sure I might allow myself to orgasm under some god-fearing body. Joining them in prayer as I grip their ass and pretend they’re different. Then what? What conversation will we have? What will finish me off? The release of vaginal juices will leave me frustrated if not proceeded and followed up with a mental orgasm that leaves my mind pulsating the same way my vagina will be.


Half fulfilled… The story of my existence… A horny Atheist.


Maybe god is real and a vengeful whore. The joke would be on me huh? Yet the love I have for myself, and my unwillingness to take anything less than what I want, will force me to forsake the arousal that may occur from someone else’s well-placed touch.


I need it to be accompanied by the stimulation of my mind being twisted and turned into colors of new perceptions of todays’, to complete my sexual hunger… So I… I don’t have sex. I submit to the block of ice that has become a burden; not of my own creating...


For God was once there… Somewhere, inside of this cold place. He touched me and reminded me of how beautifully amazing I was. I believed him… Until I read his whole love letter and realized I was not special. How can I find warmth trapped in a freezer with an ice cube? There could be no warming… Not in the everlasting arms of a serial killer.


My vagina is no longer pulsating… Just that quick, I am back to the self I’ve become familiar with... Reminded why my passion remains blots of ink on occasional white paper. My passion remains smelling the perfume of the happiness and purpose I provide to others.


Usually, I am without complaint. I promise you, usually I do not even notice. I swear I have been lulled into the reality of my Matrix of happiness... Long since forgetting what I might be missing. Then once and awhile the angle of the sun shifts and reminds me of its warmth even in winter. Yet the thawing is never permanent.


Author

~ Nile


“I’m not talking about moving in  And I don’t want to change your life  But there’s a warm wind blowing, the stars are out  And I’d really love to see you tonight…” ~ Dan and John

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