I read this Jezebel article and just had to share it.
'I Have Something Special to Show You' and Other Ways to Ruin a One Night Stand
wned2: :lmao:
'I Have Something Special to Show You' and Other Ways to Ruin a One Night Stand
:laugh2:Turns out the only thing bigger than his Garfield obsession was his penis. It made perfect sense. Only a thirty-seven year old guy with a dick that big could get away with a bedroom full of stuffies. I had never seen one that big before and wasn't sure how to approach it. It looked fake, or like it could strangle me. I'm sure it was nicknamed Odie. Without warning, he threw on a Magnum condom and just . . . stuck it in.
The next thing I knew we were having the world's worst, most unskilled sex I had ever experienced. Basically, he lowered his head beside my right ear and pumped furiously like a jackhammer. Like Odie in heat. It took a few moments for me to even catch up to what was happening. It felt like he was punching me inside. Like he was fucking a stuffed Garfield, and not even the favorite in his collection. I imagined that under his bed, I would find a bounty of old, mutilated, sticky orange and black cats.
More important, had he ever been with a woman before? What past girlfriend would put up with this? The sex was so empty and mechanical that I actually started making life resolutions in my head. Tomorrow, I'm going to go to the gym, cut down on the drinking, stick to a disciplined writing schedule, get out of debt, get a better apartment . . . Tomorrow is a brand new day. I still have my whole life ahead of me. It's not too late.
I turned to look at him—at least I could do my job—but his eyes were shut. He had a tight smile on his face as he continued to thrust at a sprinter's pace. He was lost in some fantasy world. A world of no Mondays and endless lasagna.
And then it was over. He rolled off and wiped perspiration from his forehead. I felt like I had been duped by a distracted carny running a crappy and dangerous ride at the county fair.
"Do you want me to go down on you or something?"
Yeah, or something, I thought.
"No . . . I'm good." I smiled with fake reassurance. Bad missionary-style sex is one thing. Bad oral sex would be unbearable. I didn't feel motivated to give him useful tips and guidance. Let the next girl deal with it.