“Condoms just aren’t really my thing.”
Oh really? They aren’t? Well you know what’s not really MY thing, bucko? Things that make my vagina itch. Yeah, it’s really fucking unpleasant. The risk of catching something that crawls in my bits from you seems like an actual possibility given that I saw how quickly you jumped at the chance to “split an Uber home” with me. (Like you were ever actually going to your own place. Please, worst case you’d be drunk sleep-drooling on my couch right now.) I don’t know where you last stuck that thing. And seeing how you had to count on your fingers to figure out the tip plus the total back at the bar I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that it was probably somewhere you shouldn’t have. Wrap it up, son. Wrap it up.
“I’m getting really tired…”
Did you not get your afternoon nap in? Has your fourth coffee worn off at this point? Would you like me to shimmy out from under you, head to the kitchen, and crack a Red Bull for you? Unless you are referring to a sleepy feeling in your hip flexors and you need me to jump on top to relieve your poor, exhausted muscles that are just oh-so-tired, I don’t really want to hear it. I’m trying to have an orgasm here, not lull you to sleep. I promise. And if I’m boring you, that seems like a personal problem to me. You should speak on up, not sleep it out.
“Oh I should mention…”
Unless the following words are “I just really want to go down on you for two hours, no strings attached,” my answer is NOPE. YOU REALLY SHOULDN’T MENTION ANYTHING.
“Ever done this before?”
Uhhh…let’s just face the music here, pal. Unless my answer is a, “No! Never!” followed by an exaggerated, innocent, doe-eyed blink you REALLY don’t want to hear the answer. Let’s face it, this is (most likely) not even close the first rodeo for either of us. I’ve been around the block and so have you. Let’s not bring up the past while we’re both trying to present our best, naked selves to each other, okay? You want to feel tough, masculine, like you’re teaching me something that’s going to blow my fucking mind, right? So don’t ruin it! You narrate your story the way you need to and I’ll roll with the punches and shout expletives and declarations to God at appropriate moments. Deal? Deal.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be quick.”
Greeeeeaaaaattttttt. So what you’re really saying is I shouldn’t expect to enjoy this even a little, you’re basically just going to use me as an extension of your right hand, left hand if you were feeling like spicing things up? How warm am I? Warm? Boiling? Yeah that’s what I thought. Whatever, you’re the worst and I can’t wait to tell all of your guy friends how much you suck in bed, therefore making them want to show me an ACTUAL good time. Cheers!
“Did you cum yet?”
It’s the age old answer to an age old question but if you have to ask the answer is: NO. And thanks for the pressure, pal! You shouldn’t have to ask! You should wait for me to tell you that it’s about to happen, wait for the “Don’t stop!!” and then Don’t. Fucking. Stop. Don’t go left, do not pass go, do not collect $100. Just keep doing whatever you were doing. And if you decide to improvise and not listen, it’s not my fault that you’re confused about the happenings between my thighs. I’m trying, man. Don’t make me feel more insecure than I need to.
“You know what my ex used to do…”
Apparently put up with more of your bullshit than I’m about to. BYE..
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