And why is it that everytime I accidently walk into a biker bar there are a dozen leather clad, hairy, sweaty men, who have been swilling beer all afternoon, who all of a sudden decide that they’re horny and need to take me on the pool table? I mean, all I wanted to do was ask directions to the nearest place of cultural refinement. Instead I end up groaning and moaning while these men have their way with me and afterward, some swarthy biker ties me onto the back of his Harley and drives me away to some dingy dungeon where I’m tied up or thrown up in a sling, whereupon I am subjected to hot steaming man to man debauchery for the next 3 days. Then I spend all of the next day washing the cum off my hairy chest and butt. And I still didn’t get to see the Monet exhibit at the art museum!
I’d like to have a stimulating (intellectually stimulating, you pervs!) conversation, and really get to know the girl before we rush madly down the slippery slope to physical intimacy. This “Hi, I’m Bob, suck me” style these kids are doing these days, I’ll tell ya. Back in MY day, it was sodas at the drugstore after school for WEEKS before ya got a peck on the cheek! MUCH less a Hummer!These kids don’t know what it is to work an honest day to get in a girl’s pants.
And for ONCE, I’d like to climax INSIDE the lady!!! Sheesh!
And you know, when I take my car into the shop, I’d really appreciate it if the mechanic takes care of my engine before he starts oral sexing me. I mean, yeah yeah yeah, it’s really great, but I’d really like to know what’s making that sound when I’m driving!
And when I go to the dentist-please, wait until the novocaine wears off and THEN I’ll fellate you. SHEESH!
Every damn time I play cards with the super-hot women from the apartment upstairs, one of them has the ‘original’ idea to play strip poker and, yes, I’m the only guy there, and yes, every single time I end up first losing all my clothes, then getting caught with an erection, and then being forced to service all the women before they let me go home. Wouldn’t you think that at least a couple of them would not be the same innocent but instantly corrupted virgins that go crazy doing things to me the moment they see that I have a stiffie?
I think it’s disgraceful the way standards have gone down in high-school athletics.
I mean, I’m the school janitor, right? That means it’s my job to clean out the showers after our basketball games, right? How was I supposed to know that the cheerleading squad had chosen that precise moment to give the team celebratory BJ’s?
And when I got closer ('cause after all, the showers HAVE to get scrubbed) I see that all the players are like 40 years old? WTF? How the hell did we manage to win that game in the first place when all our players have grey in their pubes, huh? They’ve got nice big dicks, sure, but YOU CAN’T PLAY BASKETBALL WITH YOUR DICK! Besides, how stupid do you have to be to have wrinkles and still be in senior high?
Harumph…try being a woman’s shoe salesman these days.
I take my craft very seriously. I mean, people can’t be civil to one another, or function like decent human beings, if they’re constantly being bothered by ill-fitting footwear. So I try to do my part. Lately, however, it seems that all my customers are more interested in parading their naughty bits in front of me, instead of getting the right pair of Birkenstocks. Honestly, when I go to pay my utility bills, or pick up some cat food for Fluffy, do you think I wear a short pink skirt and no underwear? Don’t you think that might be just a tad distracting, for goodness sake? And then they always want to go into the back room for the proper fit. Do you think the “Personnel Only” sign is a Christmas ornament or something? Jesus H.
I wish women wouldn’t talk about sex so openly amongst themselves. You sexually enslave one woman in the neighborhood and pretty soon every housewife in the tri-county area is at your door wearing nothing but a ball gag and a “Make Me Yours Master” sign. And they all SAY they want nothing but to serve your ever need, but try getting some decent work out of them. You order one to mow the lawn and you look outside and she’s pushing the mower wearing nothing but a thong and a collar, and worst of all, six-inch heels that sink right into the dirt every time she takes a step so she’s got to, like, yank her leg out of the lawn with every step which means it’s taking her a full minute just to move five feet.
So you order another one to clean the kitchen floor and you come in and of course she’s on her hands and knees naked with her hands tied behind her back, and she’s got a cloth tied in her mouth and she’s cleaning the floor with her FACE. She’s taking half an hour to do one tile. And the only way you can get her to really put some mmph into it is to take her from behind. I mean, I coulda done it a lot faster and easier myself with this thing they’ve invented called a mop. Look into it.
And at suppertime, do they want to eat at the table? No, they all want to kneel naked on the floor … again! … and eat out of bowls filled with Pantie Helper. Hey, ladies, I’m as dominant as the next guy, but you know, I have stuff to do. A little efficiency would REALLY be appreciated.
Also, it’s very nice of you to call me, “Sex God, Master of the Universe” at all times, but really, you’re excused from doing so DURING oral sex. Jeez. Sounds like you’re gargling.
I wish women wouldn’t talk about sex so openly amongst themselves. You sexually enslave one woman in the neighborhood and pretty soon every housewife in the tri-county area is at your door wearing nothing but a ball gag and a “Make Me Yours Master” sign. And they all SAY they want nothing but to serve your ever need, but try getting some decent work out of them. You order one to mow the lawn and you look outside and she’s pushing the mower wearing nothing but a thong and a collar, and worst of all, six-inch heels that sink right into the dirt every time she takes a step so she’s got to, like, yank her leg out of the lawn with every step, taking a big divot out of the lawn of course, and also, she’s taking a full minute just to move five feet.
So you order another one to clean the kitchen floor and you come in and of course she’s on her hands and knees naked with her hands tied behind her back, and she’s got a cloth tied in her mouth and she’s cleaning the floor with her FACE. She’s taking half an hour to do one tile. And the only way you can get her to really put some mmph into it is to take her from behind. I mean, I coulda done it a lot faster and easier myself with this thing they’ve invented called a mop. Look into it.
And at suppertime, do they want to eat at the table? No, they all want to kneel naked on the floor … again! … and eat out of bowls filled with Pantie Helper. Hey, ladies, I’m as dominant as the next guy, but you know, I have stuff to do. A little efficiency would REALLY be appreciated.
Also, it’s very nice of you to call me, “Sex God, Master of the Universe” at all times, but really, you’re excused from doing so DURING oral sex. Jeez. Sounds like you’re gargling.
EVERY Friday night since I’ve moved into my new place, it’s the same damn thing. I’m sitting in the complex’s hot tub, some lonely chick neighbor joins me, and it’s all steamy and she’s working on an all-over tan (it’s an outdoor tub), and pretty soon well… I’m considering moving, because the constant sex in hot swirling water is making a MESS of my skin.
And then I have to put in ANOTHER request to the manager to change the water in the tub. It is SO unsanitary. I ask them to wait, I suggest the deck, or the lawn, or even my bedroom, but NO. When they gotta have it, they gotta have it.
And it’s just as bad Saturday nights, Girl’s Night in the hot tub, when 6 or 7 pf them get it on together and we guys can only watch and jerk off at a distance. The deck is getting dangerously slippery!
What I hate is that every night my male blow up doll comes to life and starts doing a little Chip n Dale style dance all over my bedroom. Then he gets down and dirty with me. I keep pinching myself, hoping it was a nightmare, but I don’t wake up.
I tried tying him down one night to see if that would stop him, but that’s another story, too.
What I hate is that every night my male blow up doll comes to life and starts doing a little Chip n Dale style dance all over my bedroom. Then he gets down and dirty with me. I keep pinching myself, hoping it’s a nightmare, but I don’t wake up.
I tried tying him down one night to see if that would stop him, but that’s another story, too.
So I’m into musical theatre and most of my friends are too. And sometimes they pick me up at work so we can go to dinner and a show. So why does this female I work with assume they are all gay and make a game to being able to “convert” them?
Really, thanks to her our copy/fax machine room has seen more action than most whorehouses. We have the copies and we’ve heard from enough surprised receivers of unexpected faxes to prove it. However, dear lady, you have not coverted anyone! The stereotype is not true! You haven’t won any toaster ovens or whatever it is you get when you convert someone the other way.
Besides, I’m sick of missing the overtures cause I’ve been late to so many shows waiting for your act to finish.
I don’t know about you guys, but I consider myself a good friend. So as an out lesbian, whenever another one of my female friends has a sexuality crisis, I consider it an obligation of friendship to help them with their confusion.
Just ONCE I’d like that to not have to involve lots of hot girl/girl action! Why can’t we just talk about being gay? Have some tea? There’s lots of ways to be supportive, but all of these lovely women are throwing themselves at me and I simply have no choice but to show them the joys of sapphic love. Every day it’s a different girl, and it takes hours to clean my vast array of sex toys properly afterwards.
And you’d think that they’d cut their damn nails, but nooo…
Is every woman out there a vantriloquist? I mean, I love it when a woman makes noise, but when they’re screaming “Oh baby” at me with a mouthful of cock, it’s kinda creepy.
gulp
And…and then what happens, swampbear? :eek:
andygirl, I totally hear you. I’m also an out lesbian. And people, just looking at me, should see I’m the shy, demure, withdrawn type who doesn’t have hot girl-on-girl action before exchanging first names. But no! No matter where I go - supermarket, club, library, laundromat, plant store, zoo - there’s always two or three or six hot ladies who are pantingly desperate to rip off all my clothes and unleash my inner sex freak! Look, girls, sometimes I’m just NOT in the mood, OK?
And why is it that all these lesbians that appear out of nowhere (just after the weird music starts and the lighting goes all funny and the world starts to look like a really cheap set) have bleached-blonde hair (of course I know it’s bleached!) and long long nails and wear makeup and heels? I mean, whatever happened to the unshaved legs, the androgynous look, the wymmyn who play softball? Do you have any IDEA how long it’s been since I’ve seen a mullet?
I won’t even go into what college was like, except to say that I learned to set aside at LEAST 90 minutes for showers, trips to the library, and of course one-on-one talks with female professors.
I just wish someone had told me how difficult it was to be a lesbian BEFORE the first time I had wet, hot, passionate sex with my three best friends.
I really hate it when I’m discussing a job proposition regarding a massage parlour, and the buisness woman says ok let me show you around, and I walk in and there’s this guy with the BIGGEST penis you ever saw, and he grabs hold of it and says “I’m gonna kill you with this” he then proceeds to choke me with it! Sheesh! All I wanted was a freaking job!
You know what I hate? Having to constantly explain the difference between Snap-On Tools and strap-on tools to these female construction workers that insist on doing unasked-for renovations on my house.
I keep saying, “Look, Snap-On is a registered trademark…”
But do they listen? No, it’s always interrupted by me being enticed into their “workspace” and then spending freaking hours trying to pluck splinters out of my nether regions.
I just hate it when, on my way home from a tiring night out with the boys, I get pulled over by a carload of beautiful co-eds that don’t even want to know my name but want to do my brains out. When we finish, they disappear like ghosts and I go home annoyed.
I just wanted to go home!
Call me crazy, but I like picking up hitch-hikers. But I just hate how everytime I stop to give a beautiful female hitch-hiker a ride, she always wants to take me someplace secluded, rip my clothes off, and make sweet love to me.
Then, on top of that, a hot female police officer always seems to show up, and just to get out of being arrested, I have to make sweet love to her, too. This can get extremely tiring on long road trips.