Diary of a Lonely Man - Part 8
Diary of a Lonely Man - Part 8 stories

mhfiverThe Lonely Man
Autoplay OFF  •  a year ago
...80 Today my sis' ex boyfriend went home.

Diary of a Lonely Man - Part 8


Today my sis' ex boyfriend went home.

I felt a bit sad for it, but hey, he couldn't stay here forever.

However i felt a bit of relief when he was gone.


I finally could be alone in my bedroom, since he used to bottom bed of the bunk.

I was hard already when i woke up.

I fapped it hard, thinking of my fantasies.

It was the best orgasm i had in months.

After it, i just laid there, lazy to get out of bed.

Just basking on the afterglow, living a bit on my personal fantastic pleasures.

I think it's okay to lock yourself in you little world sometimes.

Just blocking out reality.

Feeling the warm bed and blankets.

Just barely conscious.

Felt good.

Felt nice.

Felt like I would want to stay there forever.

But alas, I cannot.

I had to take my medicine (Which was late by 2 hours, may i add) and just because it's sunday doesn't mean i can slack on my walk.

So yeah, got out of bed, took breakfast, washed my face and went out for my walk.

This time i did the inverse route, going down my road and finishing at the dam bus stop.

Today was unusually warm for a winter day, The sky was clear and the sun shined brightly.

I kinda didn't want to go at first, but after some minutes, it was clear i was better off with it.

Basking in the warm sun. Passing by the quiet houses.

hearing the silent sounds of the forest. the crinkling leaves rolling along the road.

The fast and noisy cars, each with a distinct engine sound.

The distant voices, laughing and screaming. The small talk between workers.

Somehow, i could completely ignore myself and focus on the outside.

I felt free.

Free of all shackles life has put on me.

Like i could walk forever.

I didn't care if i was sweating.

I didn't care if my legs sore.

I didn't care if my pants kept falling.

I didn't care at all.

I was nothing.

The world surrounding me was everything.

I could completely ignore my existance.

It felt...really liberating.

And i really have no idea why.

But i guess the therapist may have.

I'll be sure to ask her next time i go there.


My mom went to sleep besides me.

I don't know why but i just stopped writing and turned around.

To caress her a bit. She was down so it was natural i guess.

We talked a bit, i tried to lighten the mood, as always.

Then she got tired and i put the blanket on her.

I...think i should tell my mom.

All that stuff about the Sex Shop.

I don't even think she knows my sexuality.

Did i ever tell her i'm bissexual? I don't remember.

Anyway, i really should speak of this to her.

I know it's a personal thing, but she's my mom, it doesn't hurt to ask for advice sometimes.

And after all, she's gonna figure it out one way or another.

Mothers always do.


My mom seems so down.

I had an idea of whose fault it was.

As expected, after i asked, she said my sis told her she was a toxic mother.

I know mom is not perfect, and she has some annoying traits, but my sis just antagonizes her so much.

I gave her a warm, long hug and she cried on my chest.

I didn't say anything. Just stayed there, hugging her.

I felt a strange sensation.

Warmth and peace. The feeling i was emotionally needed by someone.

The feeling i could protect her somehow.

The feeling i was important there.

It's strange. But maybe it has something to do with my pursuit of love.


Today i didn't do the 30 minute walk.

I wanted to, but it was raining and cold.

So instead i went to the supermarket with my mom.

I wanted to...talk about that subject with heer but...

But i was too shy and scared of her reaction.

And also she was talking about stuff the whole trip so i didn't want to butt in and make it unconfortable for the both of us.

I did, however, after we reached home, tell her that i wanted to talk about some stuff with her.

In private.

Maybe some next time.

I really want to take this out of my mind but i'm constantly thinking of it.

Of the Sex Shop, of the toys...

Maybe i'm just eager to learn new experiences.

It doesn't matter if it's sexual related.

It's for me.

I'm indulging myself.

I want to learn where and how to please myself.

And all the different ways of doing it.

After all, real sex is not something i'll get any time soon.

Not never, i hope, but not soon either.

So what if i want to feel all the ways the flesh can please me?

I already do that mentally with my huge list of fetishes.

But i want something more physical.

Something i can touch.

Touch myself with.

And feel good doing it.


I have this text file on my phone.

I scrub and read it sometimes.

Why am i interested in my own thoughts.

Am i reflecting whether or not what is here is true?

Or perhaps it's kind of a time capsule for me?

Yeah sure, 2 weeks may not be a long time but i did notice changes in myself.

My mood really changed, for example.

I started this rant with a long "dreams i'll never get cause i suck" list.

Lots of depressive "chapters" after that, peppered with some normal reflection stuff.

A few "I did this today" bits, couple of hopelessly edgy poetry/lyrics/whathaveyou.

Some naugthy bits here and there, some SCREAMING MAD stuff.

It really has a bit of everything.

But i definitely feel change coming my way.

And i hope, for all that is holy and unholy, that it is for the better.

Cause i'm putting all my faith on it once again.

Betting high, risking it all.

I don't even want to think what would happen to me if i lost all my chips again.

After i worked so hard to gather more of them...


You know, i touch upon some sexual subjects here on this diary.

Thing people usually don't talk about.

Either because they're shy or ashamed of them, or maybe feel like they're inappropriate or forbidden stuff to talk about casually.

Now, i won't say i'm not shy, and i do have a little bit of shame on some of my kinks.

But when talking to my internet friends, i feel safer about my own sexual desires to share them.

Yet, with my family, i'm basically a closeted one when it comes to sex stuff.

I'm not the type to delete browder history when visiting porn sites, as i think it's a normal thing everyone does.

But personally showing to them what i do enjoy. All my paraphilias. I feel like i could never do that.

I can't even talk to my mom about wanting to buy a freaking dildo for god's sake!

Then again maybe it's not something you should discuss with your family.

But i want to.

I want them to know how filthy i am.

How much i crave impossible creatures as sexual symbols.

Things that are hideous i find arousing.

How i want to be dominated by a strong female figure.

All the different ways of having carnal pleasure.

I am filthy, depraved, sexual and a fucking furry fetishist.

And i love being that.

I wanna talk how much i want to fuck an humanoid animal, lick their paws and feel their soft fur rub my body, feel the fanged mouth when we kiss, feel the...

Okay, i guess i went into a bit too much detail there, but now you see why i'm hesitant.

You could feel disgusted by the scene i described above, and immediately have a negative reaction to me.

But that's how the world works. People are sometimes aroused by things out of the ordinary.

And boy, do i have a big list of those things.

Maybe i'll type it out here when i have the time, patience and privacy.

Cause right now i'm at work and the secretary is right besides me and i truly hope she doesn't know english.


I don't know why...

It feels like writing this is becomming routine.

I feel kind of wrong when i don't have anything to write here.

I still only write when i have something on my mind. And believe me, i still have a lot to talk about.

But i don't want this to become an obligation. I want this to be my pleasure.

To write and express what's in my mind as clear as i can.

To make it visible to the world.

My deviations. My ramblings. My mad rant.


The diary of an individual.


Yet...i can't shake out the feeling that this is going to be relatable one way or another.

Maybe not all of it, but i'm certain everyone reading this is doing it for a reason.

To have fun, pleasure, to entertain themselves.

To have a different outlook on human life.

To see the world via the eyes and mind of another person.

Even maybe to make fun of how inept i am at certain things. I don't mind, really.

I realize i'm not perfect, and i'll never be.

What i have to realize is that my strengths are more important that my weaknesses.

That what i'm good at is important, not what i'm not good at.

Maybe i'm good at writing, maybe not.

But i'm not doing this out of ego, thinking my thoughts to be worthy of a Pulitzer or something.

I'm doing this because i feel it's the right thing to do.

It's the nearest thing i've had to a passion in years.

The dumping of my troubled mind into scrabling words.

I never thought it would get so big.

I never thought people would read it, never mind like it.

I never thought i would write about such intimate subjects.

I never thought...

...that i would be able to do it.

I thought i would lose interest pretty fast, like i do with almost everything.

But i just kept going.

And going.

And going.

And now i don't want to stop.

I want to keep writing.

I don't know what exactly is driving me but...

...but it may be the very key to unlock the secrets of my happiness.



All the things that are changing me for the better...

The 30 minute walks, this diary.

They were all suggested by other people.

The therapist and the doc, respectively.

They are such simple things.

But if they never asked me to do it, i would never even think of it.

Maybe because i didn't have enough faith in myself, and in my ideas likewise.

Maybe because i was afraid of having disapointment.

Maybe because i wasn't patient enough for such things.

But when i saw how these things were very rewarding...

I think i can finally fully trust the doc and the therapist.

They know what's better for me.

And i'm going to trust them fully.

They will help me help myself.

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