Not concentrating during the sexual act and finding yourself lost in the dark recesses found beneath the gunt.
I was hot, roaring hot, vomiting with the heat, my every cell protesting as it bucked against the impositions of the atmosphere, and instantly I knew I was caught in a gunt trap.And I was flesh-and-blood, organic, heaving in torment, my breathing corpse in rebellion against the impossible demands being made upon it, this while I fought to control the hot Gunt bucking in my hands, a piece of flesh which I identified as a gunt flap. Crushed by heat. Annihilated by the light of the sky. I should have looked, then. Upwards, I mean. At the sky. At the light. But I didn't. Instead, I dropped the gunt flap. And flinched. Downwards. Squeezing my eyes shut. Trying to squeeze myself into annihilation. Trying to hide. I made my way towards the relative safety of the vulva and hopefully freedom.
by Juan Hunglow April 27, 2010