Let's work backwards, shall we? My balls are very angry with me right now. Masturbation can be fun, but there is no substitute for the real thing. It sucks for me that I am picky; really... who am I to expect to be able to fuck a girl of porn-star quality? Not that I haven't tried "settling", but that just doesn't seem to work for me. I will cum in any pussy that welcomes my cock, but after an hour of beating that shit up, I get a bit chaffed. If you actually know me, you understand that I am not really worthy of porn-star pussy. However, I can't help feeling entitled to what I know I'm capable of, can get (or used to get). My balls want porn-star pussy, and they're pissed at me for settling.
Enough about my balls (I have left my cock out of this because it only has one eye and no ears...), let's talk about my love(s). Once upon a time... Really, that intro should be enough. I believed in that "once upon a time" and even the "happily ever after". Now, I only believe in the happy ending. Let me give you my definition of "happy ending": we drink, we kiss, we find a dually amenable location, we fuck, and we go our separate ways. Oh yeah, we were talking about my "loves"... One went crazy (after we had a beautiful, male child), one followed the money (after a coke infused, DWI, totaling her car kind of night), and the one I married... well... that's a blog for another day. I still love all 3 of them in different ways. One is still my friend and the other two are lost to me (and most of the rest of the world I'm guessing). I miss them all, or at least the things I loved about them. Wait, still love about them. Call me a hopeless romantic, but I guess I just am who I am...
While we're on the subject of "love", I have a confession to make. I fall in love with any woman who can carry on a conversation for longer than five minutes. Yes, I admit, I'm a conversation whore! If I don't nod off while someone is talking to me (admittedly, if another woman walks by with great tits, a great ass, or a face I can't ignore... You see my fucked-up priorities here... Really, I'm still listening...) Most women I have met lately try to get by on their looks and their ability to flirt. This may give me wood, but it doesn't mean I will fuck them (OK, that's a lie; I'm a man and will fuck just about any woman who is willing. But, for this conversation's sake, let's pretend I'm a gentleman). I love women. I love their voices, their laughs, their smell, their tastes. I could get VERY explicit at this point, but I think I've conveyed the gist of things.
And now... to my MOJO. I am back behind the curtain. I am once again "The Great and Powerful Oz" (in my own mind at least. I will propagate this belief amongst the un-indoctrined soon). I miss my mojo, it has been a big part of who I am and how I view myself. It will be nice for me and my mojo to reunite. I think we have missed each other, needed each other in a way that is both sick and unhealthy; and yet, it makes us who we are...
No comments:
Post a Comment