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I May Look Like I’m Listening, But I’m Thinking About How Badly My Asshole Itches

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Hi! It’s so great to see you! I can’t believe how long it’s been! It feels like just yesterday when I saw you last. Sorry I’m late, it was taking me forever to shower. I had to shave my body from my eyebrows down. All smooth like a Butterball turkey. As a matter of fact, I do have plans tonight. I’m supposed to meet up with this guy I’ve been regularly texting. I haven’t even sent him an ugly Snapchat yet, but I feel like I’m definitely going to get disgusting with his dick later, so I had to prepare. Tell me all about your new job! I’m going to nod as if I understand what you are saying, but my mind is preoccupied by the overwhelming itching sensation coming from my asshole.

I want nothing more than to hear about your new apartment, but seriously, it feels like I butt fucked a cactus. Did I accidentally put on a thong made of wool and twigs? Did shards of the razor get stuck in my nether regions? I’m at a complete loss right now. I’m making hard eye contact with you in hopes that you see the tears of desperation welling up. I’ll just keep nodding where I feel like it’s appropriate and laughing when you laugh. Every fiber of my being is working to focus on you, my great friend, but my asshole is betraying me.

Can you see the single bead of sweat that is slowly trickling down my temple? The amount of sheer will power to not shove my hand down the pant of my pants and go full Edward Scissorhands on my crack is excruciating. There’s no exit strategy here. We are both sitting here and I can’t get up and go to the bathroom to scratch it, because I know in about 43 minutes I’ll have to go for real, and then that would jut be embarrassing. Maybe if I scoot around in my seat a little it will help? No, that made it worse. Now my thong’s just fucked up. I’ll try again. Shit, I can tell you noticed I’m being weird. Ok, what’s my plan B. I’ll just tell you a story so it seems like I’m involved in this conversation. It seems to be distracting both of us, but somehow this story is making me think about my asshole even more. I should stop casually working anal into conversation so often.

At this point, I might just go for it, you know? We’re good friends, right? We’ve peed and wiped in front of each other. You’ve puked in the sink while I puked in the toilet. I have seen your tits virtually every time we have gotten drunk together. So I feel like this is a safe space. Everyone has an asshole and everyone has to itch it once in a while, and right now is my time. I’ve done enough casual readjusting my seated position to try to dampen the itchy fire that’s burning under me. Alright here I go.

Ahhhhhhhh.

So what were you saying again? Feel free to start over from the beginning.

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Plain Jane

Just your average sorority girl

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