There are only two times right before/during sex when you have my complete and undivided attention: when I’m too obliterated to have a thought, or if I actually like you. Otherwise, my ADD kicks in and I am thinking about anything from when The Walking Dead comes back on, to if I turned off my curling wand at home. Below, are a few things that run through my mind right before your dick runs into my vagina.
The size of your junk. I’m lying. I’m wondering how big (or small) your penis is the minute my mind and vagina agree that you’re attractive. You know how men do the “finger smell” test to determine if the girl they’re about to bang is dirty? Sometimes I like to do a little rub down to see what I’m working with. You might think it’s foreplay, but really, I’m just comparing your dick to the size of my hand. FYI I have tiny hands, so Lord help you.
“Where the fuck are my panties?” One of my favorite parts of foreplay is when a man is sliding off my panties. The part when his hands lightly caress my pelvic bone drives me absolutely wild, so I’m not giving two fucks as to where he flings my panties to. But once the deed is done, it’s like this scene in the Hunger Games where the tributes enter the arena for the very first time and endure a bloodbath just to find their weapons. I NEEDS TO FIND MY DRAWS! We may have just exchanged love juices, but I’m still not trying to have you wake up with my polka-dot panties underneath your pillow.
Pets and roommates. Honestly, I can get over the roommate thing pretty fast. Shit, I’m not embarrassed if they aren’t! I can be loud, but there’s nothing a gag over my mouth can’t fix … not that I’ve ever used one or anything. However, when it comes to pets … I just can’t. It’s a little weird, and a part of me is terrified that they might think we’re wrestling and want to join in on the fun. I used to have a dog, and I treated her like a Princess. One time she came into the room during “business hours,” and it was an instant boner-kill. It’s like fucking in front of your child!
Food. Damn, I knew I was a fat fuck, but I didn’t know just how bad it was until the last guy I banged told me I asked for Kettle Corn during sex. I want to say he’s lying, but judging by his testimony the next morning it sounded legit. After all, Kettle Corn is pretty delicious. It’s sweet, but salty. Hmmm wait a minute …
How I’m getting home in the morning. While you’re putting on a condom, I’m going through my mental rolodex of my best girlfriends aka the bitches who who will pick me up from your house the next day in exchange for brunch and a (hopefully) good story to tell. The last thing I want to worry about is how I’m going to turn my walk of shame dress from the night before, into something appropriate for a 10am bus ride. By the way, if you’re capable of bringing me home and you don’t, then I’m capable of giving you blue balls next time. If there is a next time.
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