…a box of sex, or a box of meat?
Once upon a time, lordfuckbeast went out to eat, and came back with a take-home box filled with meat. A large take-home box. And indeed, his box of meat was a metaphor for decadent excess for many months.
There is, no doubt, a very carnal pleasure to be had from possessing a box of meat. The phrase even SOUNDS animalistic–“box of meat.”
Yesterday, the box of sex toys I ordered to go along with Symphony arrived. A very large box of sex toys. So large, there is something almost divine in its excess.
I like the idea of a box of sex better than the idea of a box of meat. lordfuckbeast claims this is because I don’t fully appreciate meat–which is not entirely true. I do appreaciate meat, though not in a “steak and potatoes” kind of way–more in a “McDonald’s, Wendys, pepperoni pizza” kind of way. Nevertheless, he prefers his box of meat, I prefer my box of sex.