Shut Up And Fuck Me!

Alexandru Bizighescu - Come to me

Here’s a little something you don’t hear everyday... some of you, will never have the pleasure…but be weary! When it comes, you’ll better hope that you are ready. Make no mistake: when this happens, you either play or get the hell out of there!

"Luck favors the brave".

Women are strange animals, but animals none the less. Truth be told, manners and brains are nice-haves, but your sense-of-humor and career-prospects will only take you so far. Your so-called 'fears' are as ridiculous as they are wishful thinking. Before you can even flirt with the idea of little ‘you-s’ spurring out of me, you’ll have to prove yourself trust-worthy.

What a woman really wants is a chance to be a woman and keep her dignity in the process. Thus the painstaking sorting by ‘tall, dark and handsome’ and ‘smart and funny’, mere tags for the unspeakable, the unnamed quality of being a source of guilt-free pleasure. ‘Supportive’, ‘tender’, ‘affectionate’, ‘romantic’, or ‘dependable’, ‘responsible’ must-haves come later. Many of you never get to that level.

Yet you hide yourself behind the comfort of your fears of ‘commitment’, and you project them onto me as if I don’t already have enough problems to deal with. You tell yourself that our naked bodies’ thrusting against each other is enough intimacy for one lifetime. And you tell everybody else that I want too much from you – as if my whole existence could ever actually depend solely on you.

Your freedom may be at stake, but only if you gamble it; I’m not interested in winning that particular game. I have my own freedom to worry about. I don’t want to have to carry you around for the rest of my life.

While being smart, or spiritual is even nowadays (sadly) an accomplishment for a woman, being a desirable object for your pleasure is (almost like) a given. Deny me either one, and you reduce me to nothing.

And there is nothing more hurtful, more humiliating for a woman than to be broken into pieces: either brain, or body, lady or whore, mistress or wife, lover or mother.


The basis of our culture establishes as a ‘simple fact of life’ (yet patronizing and sexist, and also against human rights; but hey! we’re not really human) that women were made purely for pleasure. Your pleasure. I do not have a soul of my own, you see. I am incomplete without you by my side. My womb may be, yet my brain is not able to sustain a life. They say I need a man inside of me in order to be complete. They say I need you. Be honest: don’t you like that?


But the irony of life is that while the whole world puts me down as an 'object of pleasure', deep down, I long to be just that. And while proving worthy of any mental abilities is an ongoing battle, deep down I wish I’ll never have to fight it. "Love" is the story you've told me to put me to bed. You belittle me as being ‘easy’, yet in your world, you are to me my simplest solution: you are my one chance of truce, and tranquility; my ray of hope, my savior, my hero.


You who know me by heart.
You, who do not ask of me to betray or hide my animal side, nor do you, hold it against me.
You who recognize my desires and passions in their own right, not as reflections of yours.
You who don’t ask of me to reason my way in or out of your life.
You who embrace my mind along with my body, and never question one against the other.
You who do not project your fears onto mine and so allow me my own
– For you see, I fear needing you even more than you do! That's why I need you to be brave – so I can battle my own demons and not worry about you.



Stop reasoning your way into my body. I’m not an ‘issue’.
I’m just like you: half beast, half fairy.
Now... shut up and fuck me! We’ll talk later …