Having Sex With Donuts

Mon. January 19, 2015 12:00 AM
by Sukie de la Croix

I have not seen the new "My Husband's Not Gay" reality TV show. I have, however, seen a clip from it where a confused nelly husband equates homosexuality with eating donuts. He says:

"When I'm having sex with her, I don't wish she was a man. Or fantasize about her being a man. I'm with her. I'm having sex with her. And it's her I love and want to be with. An analogy I could use is I love donuts. I would eat donuts three times a day, but I desire to fit my pants in the morning. You can say I'm oriented toward donuts and if I was true to myself I'd eat donuts a lot more than I eat donuts."

That poor wife of his, sitting right there next to him, should find herself a nice straight husband who can love her completely, or if she's gay she needs to find a good woman. Another thing she needs to do is dump this selfish queen who's using her love as a warped therapy to stop himself from being tempted into the ways of Sodom i.e sucking dick and worshipping Carol Channing. It'll all end in tears, for sure, and because he's been so public about it, we will all be there with our buckets of popcorn enjoying the inevitable wreckage of this marriage. It's just a matter of time.

One good thing that came out of the interview was his reference to homosexuality and donuts. I'm taking this opportunity to come out of the closet as a donusexual, a gay man who fucks donuts. Not just donuts but all desserts. The first time I realized I was attracted to desserts was when I was a kid. I lost my cherry eating my mother's "spotted dick" (a British pudding containing dried fruit and served with custard. Google it). As soon as I tasted my mother's spotted dick, I became a slave to desserts. When I grew into adulthood I cooked my own spotted dicks, only mine are drizzled with crème anglaise. They're absolutely fabulous. If you've never eaten my spotted dick, then you haven't lived.

For many years I was on a steady diet of spotted dicks. Then I got bored with them and branched out into apple pies. I started by buying small individual pies at the supermarket, that I could just pop into my mouth. Then I started baking them myself and that's when my love for apple pies became romantic, and then sexual. I like to tease the top crust off the pie, then work my tongue through the pastry crack, lick the sweet apple filling inside, then suck it out. I'm getting horny just thinking about it. I suspect you are as well.

I was in my mid-twenties when I started to experiment with other desserts. It started when I met a bundt cake in a sleazy bakery. He was sitting in a glass cabinet. I stared into his hot, smoldering, "come fuck me" eyes that only a bundt cake can have. I bought the bundt cake and on the way home I stopped at another bakery and bought a key lime pie. When I got home the inevitable happened, my first threesome: I was the creamy filling in a bundt cake and key lime pie sexual sandwich. Me, French-kissing the meringue on the key lime pie while the bundt cake pounded me from behind. Then I met the love of my life, a baked Alaska. We spent three happy years together until a cute little cupcake jumped into my shopping bag and the relationship went south. Sadly, my love affair with the cupcake didn't last long. The cupcake was young, wanted to see other people, wasn't ready to settle down, " borrowed" my credit card, and eventually ran off with someone half my age. Since then I've had a few one-night stands with strawberry cheesecakes, long johns, cream-filled éclairs. I sometimes went to orgies and swallowed as many as fifteen éclairs in one night. On hot lonely summer nights, you can have a lot of fun with a frozen banana and a couple of Hostess Sno Balls.

I did have a brief flirtation with BDSM and desserts. I used to enjoy being spanked by an apple strudel and having my nipples tweaked by a slice of German chocolate cake. Even now, after 26 years together, my husband and I still spice up our sex life with desserts. Often I'm on the floor eating crème brulee out of a dog bowl while he shoves Boston creams up my ass until I squeal like a pig. Some people might think that's weird. Is that weird? I don't think it is.