You can’t get hard
Things were great…we like all the same things…you speak Spanish…you’re a socialist… I’m half in love with you because of your political ideology, and you’re tall, which is a huge plus. So I work my charm, and finally get you to invite me over. We have a couple drinks, I begin to get a little drunk, and next thing you know, we’re making out. I’m sort of pulling all my best moves and when I ask you if I should get the condom, you say yes. Okay well thanks for wasting my condom, you chode. As you’re trying to squeeze your playdoh (LOL JK playdoh is stiffer) in, I realize that isn’t going to work because my vagina isn’t build to take in globs of skin. I ask if everything is okay, and you say it’s because you’ve been drinking, uh….okay… so you insist on keeping the foreplay going and I play along because I haven’t had sex in over 5 months. All of the sudden, your little soft self decides to slap my butt…several times…umm, okay…. Maybe I would forgive this if you could have actually gotten me off. All this messing around, and your little downstairs friend still doesn’t want to give me the time of day. I’m pissed and want to go to sleep, but for some reason, you still have hope in your broken penis. I wake up the next morning, and as I’m all dressed, you finally are ready. So I decide to give you another chance and waste my last condom. Things work out, and I get my mediocre fuck. As I lay down, I notice a guitar, and ask you what you like to play. You say, Guns ‘n Roses and Nirvana… yeah… I’m going to catch the next bus…
I’m offended that you still haven’t talked to me since, but then I remember that in my sexual frustration towards your malfunctioning dick that I called you a child molester for fucking a girl that is 10 years younger than you. Oops.
-Written by twogirlsonecup