I wouldn't necessarily call this my favorite memory...
Honestly... I wouldn't call you my favorite person. Not saying I don't like you- I'm just saying your theatrics are a bit MUCH. It is these same theatrics that are the muse for this letter.
You love to tell folk how I was the boyfriend from hell, and blah blah... however you fail to mention the most unforgivable thing you can ever do to someone- which you casually did to me.
First off all, let me remind you- of your silly little rules concerning HOW and the ONLY HOW we were allowed to have sex, as per YOUR rules.
missionary. cuddling afterwards. sleep in each other's arms. fin.
Nothing else was permitted.
Oh, and how can I forget the other:
Tolerate your overbearing, demanding, super repetitive oral fixation, while simultaneously alerting you 3 minutes prior to me cumming, so you can STOP what you were doing and go do something else. each. and. every. time.
note: Whilst you are down there feasting on trouser snake, I am NOT allowed to place my hand on the back of your head- for you do not like that.
Yeah.
Now that we've got that out in the air, I'm going to tell you what you did, even though by now I'm sure you've figured it out.
So, we were messing around one night on the couch in my folk's living room and we somehow started to have sex. During the supposed foreplay, you decided to go down on me again, for like the third time that day. I was a tad fed up because just three days prior I had (what I thought) was a legitimate conversation with you about how FUCKING retarded it was for you to be going down on me on the average of 3-4 times a day, (like that ride from D.C. to Va Beach where you went down on me 4 times, I came NO times. ...yay. fun.) and only actually ejaculating during that wack ass boring missionary sex. I even brought up how unlike most guys, I don't require to actually come in your mouth/face/etc. I just want to see the destination if I'm putting up with the journey...
three to five times a day.
And now... here we are on the couch. You coyly look up at me as your work your way into my boxers. You slide your lips up and down my shaft giggling proudly at the work you're doing... but I'm a sentinel today. I refuse to enjoy this. I'm on a mission. I will NOT get my hopes up for nothing. I guess you sense my fortitude, because you work even harder,a nd your mouth gets wetter than ever. I try to ignore this new challenge, but I can't. So I figure I would just ambush you with a pre-emptive orgasm. I decide that if I came just ONCE, you would see it's not so bad and throw your silly rules out the window. So I hold back all physical signs that I'm cumming. Then suddenly, I grab that mass of hair and lock you into place- and cum in your mouth.
I've won.
No... I haven't. Because at that moment you start convulsing around the mattress like you're having a seizure, and start coughing and then you throw up in my lap. YOU VOMIT ON ME. It takes about 7 seconds to process that I've got this weird mixture of snot, spit, semen, and whatever you ate earlier on me... and I want it off YESTERDAY. The only way to do that is to slant walk (so it doesn't ooze down my body) to the shower where I loofa myself into a brand new pale skin. When I get back to where you are- I find you snuggled up under the sheets. After I force myself to lay next to you...hoping we don't have to talk any more tonight, you rollover and ask me if I still want to have sex.
Were. You. Serious?
I would later find out... you indeed were.
Years later, even though we aren't together... like I said earlier- your theatrics still annoy me.
-Tesco.
Honestly... I wouldn't call you my favorite person. Not saying I don't like you- I'm just saying your theatrics are a bit MUCH. It is these same theatrics that are the muse for this letter.
You love to tell folk how I was the boyfriend from hell, and blah blah... however you fail to mention the most unforgivable thing you can ever do to someone- which you casually did to me.
First off all, let me remind you- of your silly little rules concerning HOW and the ONLY HOW we were allowed to have sex, as per YOUR rules.
missionary. cuddling afterwards. sleep in each other's arms. fin.
Nothing else was permitted.
Oh, and how can I forget the other:
Tolerate your overbearing, demanding, super repetitive oral fixation, while simultaneously alerting you 3 minutes prior to me cumming, so you can STOP what you were doing and go do something else. each. and. every. time.
note: Whilst you are down there feasting on trouser snake, I am NOT allowed to place my hand on the back of your head- for you do not like that.
Yeah.
Now that we've got that out in the air, I'm going to tell you what you did, even though by now I'm sure you've figured it out.
So, we were messing around one night on the couch in my folk's living room and we somehow started to have sex. During the supposed foreplay, you decided to go down on me again, for like the third time that day. I was a tad fed up because just three days prior I had (what I thought) was a legitimate conversation with you about how FUCKING retarded it was for you to be going down on me on the average of 3-4 times a day, (like that ride from D.C. to Va Beach where you went down on me 4 times, I came NO times. ...yay. fun.) and only actually ejaculating during that wack ass boring missionary sex. I even brought up how unlike most guys, I don't require to actually come in your mouth/face/etc. I just want to see the destination if I'm putting up with the journey...
three to five times a day.
And now... here we are on the couch. You coyly look up at me as your work your way into my boxers. You slide your lips up and down my shaft giggling proudly at the work you're doing... but I'm a sentinel today. I refuse to enjoy this. I'm on a mission. I will NOT get my hopes up for nothing. I guess you sense my fortitude, because you work even harder,a nd your mouth gets wetter than ever. I try to ignore this new challenge, but I can't. So I figure I would just ambush you with a pre-emptive orgasm. I decide that if I came just ONCE, you would see it's not so bad and throw your silly rules out the window. So I hold back all physical signs that I'm cumming. Then suddenly, I grab that mass of hair and lock you into place- and cum in your mouth.
I've won.
No... I haven't. Because at that moment you start convulsing around the mattress like you're having a seizure, and start coughing and then you throw up in my lap. YOU VOMIT ON ME. It takes about 7 seconds to process that I've got this weird mixture of snot, spit, semen, and whatever you ate earlier on me... and I want it off YESTERDAY. The only way to do that is to slant walk (so it doesn't ooze down my body) to the shower where I loofa myself into a brand new pale skin. When I get back to where you are- I find you snuggled up under the sheets. After I force myself to lay next to you...hoping we don't have to talk any more tonight, you rollover and ask me if I still want to have sex.
Were. You. Serious?
I would later find out... you indeed were.
Years later, even though we aren't together... like I said earlier- your theatrics still annoy me.
-Tesco.
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