Have you ever have one of those days, where it feels like you were anally raped by a black man and you just sit there wondering how it would have been better to settle for a tug-job? Then you are not alone...in a promiscuous sense, I have encumbered myself in quite that feeling in a non-literal way.
Like I said, I love my opposites, they make me feel warm, loved, unsurprisingly hard in my pants, but sometimes we deserve a break for the misinterpretations of mixed signals during one-on-one time...you really looked wet enough for me to move in for the kiss back there, and hey, you can't blame me for trying. Yes, you told me a hundred times that you have a boyfriend, but when you start stroking a mans junk under the table at dinner, you start giving the guy the impression that you wanna lock him in a room and start creating your own Kama Sutra guide. So, what do you say, wanna get the vibrator out, while I pop some viagra?
Usually, I find it interesting to see what might happen next after these salacious misinterpretations, especially when she shows signs of wobbly legs there after. Yes, I put two or more of my fingers there, but I seem to recall you not wanting me to remove them from that area, and you insisted I cuddle here for the night, not to mention the cunnilingual and fellatious exchange we had during that time period...guess we got a little caught up in the moment.
I'm all down for the whole honesty shit you got going with your boyfriend, but next time I would like "diplomatic immunity" when it comes to these matters, especially regarding sexual relations. I'm a lover of all positions (doggystyle included), not a fighter of kung-fu.
Please, let's agree not to put our salacious compulsives into play...let's...just...ummm...watch a movie, with popcorn, blankets, a bottle of vodka and a pack of condo...I mean cigarettes.
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