If I’m asked if I’m down for a Quick Snooze with a Prior Snooze, Here’s the excuse I plan to use:“ ‘Wish No Ill Will’ and ‘All the Best,’ But you’re no different from the rest: You give way too little far too late,
So I prefer to masturbate Rather than drown in Drowsy Company. In fact, the Type of Snooze Which Most Impresses Me Kindly Erases rather than Increases My Need for Sleep, Though I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit: A Swift, Quick Snooze I probably wouldn’t refuse And could provably use, too.
I was fun in bed, but what was He? Boring, soft and VERY quick. I was energetically Decked out in full lingerie. However eventually, I had to initiate Contact sexually.
It’s why he was there, after all, So why’d he never grow some balls? I didn’t get Dirty Talk Or Pillow Talk, Exploration, Adoration, or more than a minute of Penetration, Not to mention a Tingling Sensation!
The Most Amazing Thing of All? I thought Good Sex was freely bought, So I gave Him the Friends-with-Fringe benefit Which I now doubt! I also still Regret it all, so I choose to just Forget it all.
That’s the Way of Lame-Ass Sex, It builds you up to drop you back, Where by yourself, you must attack That pesky yearning for yourself; I’ve found this Option serves to be, Better Sex, at least for Me, Though solely and impersonally.
Even though I speak Of writing dirty smut, I hope All know the truth: I’m not a real-life slut. However should my readers, The Reader who is You, Make a Choice and finally Choose, Invest the barest Minimum Time, I’ll take you on the Guided Tour to Glimpse my glamor-sexy Mind.
I stuff my poems with heavy stuff. I also stuff them with Big Love. I stuff them till I’ve said enough. I like to stuff them with rough love. Stuff with me with your Lovely Stuff. It tastes so good, it fills me up. So why can’t I Just Get Enough? It’s the Stuff I’m Dreaming of UnTill I’m fully stuffed enough. Come stuff me more; come stuff me rough; Its the stuff; the stuff I love And Yours the only Stuff I Trust; The Only One that Spills Me Up.
I doubt you’re ever going to meet anyone else like me throughout the entire rest of your life. I’m simply stating a fact. If I could give you some advice, it would be to take whatever I’m offering whenever I’m offering it, because you won’t be getting anything like it ever again.
What is it like?
See, now you’ve gone and blown your chance so you’ll never know. Big unfortunately for you.
I doubt that but if you say so. I’m over here rock hard just imagining what you were going to say. I guess ill have to handle this problem again.
I guess you will. I was going to tell you about my waxing appointment, the post-waxing maintenance, and the “special feature” I opted for. But now I’m not.
Take your own matters into your own damn hands.
As you wish.
Lagoon again. No conversation. You have a technique for weaseling out of emotional intimacy of any kind. I actually expected the OPPOSITE from you. Then again, based on your online dating profile, I mistakenly thought you were 15 years OLDER than you actually are (lie much?) until two weeks ago. Which pretty much explains the last 2 weeks.
That plus you don’t hurt good enough yet, inside or out. Call me if you ever do.
[Professional Writers: I think I’ve managed to capture the male’s essence, but I REALLY, REALLY need know if the female character sounds like Amber Heard!!]