J.R Sutton

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  • VOLUME: Bastian’s Black Book by J.R Sutton

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    There are two kinds of men in this world. Male chauvinist, and then there are men who truly love women. Men who think women to be one of the most beautiful, mysterious and powerful of beings on this Earth, and that’s me. I love women. I love the way they think and smell. The feel of their hot damp skin pressed against mine. Even their manipulative, and cunning ways hold something in them to be endeared. Legs, breasts, and full lips, the way they move. The love, and admiration I have for the female sex knows no limit.

    Do I think I have an addiction to sex? No.

    Truth is, I sleep with countless women because I want to. I like it. People and tabloids call me a womanizing playboy, and a man whore. I call it being free. I’m successful, good looking, rich and single. Fucking and fighting everything moving in my path is exactly what I should be doing. Hypersexual disorder, narcissistic personality disorder, obsessive-compulsive disorder, Sadomasochism, they are all words and labels I’ve heard before. Labels are for cans, not living beings, and I believe simply this. I love women, and I love them in high numbers. Each gives me something the others cannot. If I could take that piece from each, and place them within one single entity, I would. Maybe then, I wouldn’t feel the urge to drop my dick out onto a different mattress every chance I get.

    Every man has a Black Book, whether it is kept mentally, or with pen to paper. This is mine. -B.F