I seriously have a bromance going at University. It’s serious shit and I’m afraid. At the same time as I’m afraid to even touch him he touches me all the time, everywhere. And all I want is for him to fuck my brains out. Use and own my ass, passionate and deep, seeding me.

I never want those things so I must be really infatuated. I never fall in love but apparently I’ve fallen hard.


When I really want something and things aren’t exactly going my way, I do this. I’m very used to always getting what I want. Men are weak for well dressed well mannered, well hung men. 

The downside of this is that I don’t get all the things I need to get done, done. I feel like I should have been out with my next short story bundle already, new ebooks – new covers and extra material – new art work, and so on. The upside of it is that I have gotten my cock out a lot, and I have met a lot of hot men. 

I need to get to work, but I’m busy getting blown, so you could say I’m busy doing nothing at all, and if there were money in it I’d be rich.


So far I’ve been comfortable with my nudity. Both at home, by the sea, at the beach, in the sauna, at the gym, where ever, and in my art. 

So far it has been hell trying to get the new art published. The response is always fair and good, most seem to like the ideas, the execution and the artwork in it self. Is collages a hard thing to promote? Are the replies nice and friendly, and untrue? 

On the other hand. I’ve been offered to strip in front of the camera for two magazines so far. I might do that instead. It’s easier? 


For years I confused sex and love. I thought that the more sex you had, the more you were loved. I thought that I would be loved more, if I just had endless sex. But it doesn’t really work like that. 

I never felt like that about my books or my art. If you don’t like it, that’s not the same as not liking me.

For years I didn’t love my self. Sex helped a bit. People liking my art, my texts, my cock, it did help. It still does help. Sometimes. Not every time I’m feeling down. But sometimes. 

Anyways, husbands to be; I don’t know how to love you.