(Apparently we have to post what we’re writing today, so here’s the next thing. We’re still at Blind Tiger and only three beers in, but so far it’s a good fucking day.)
There are six women I have crushes on.
I want to fuck three of them up the ass, have two of them call me Daddy, and the last one… There’s not even a good place to begin. Not to say that I order my crushes or my partners, because we’re all fucking equal and all this primary stuff is bullshit. As if two people don’t have enough of that on their own.
So, let’s go with number six because nothing is hotter than calling women by a number. I’d call her Tits, or Legs, but they don’t come close to describing how fucking tight her pussy is. I could call her Flower or Love Of My Life, but you still wouldn’t understand what it’s like when she chokes on my cock. Hell, you wouldn’t understand what it does to me when she whispers the word yes in my ear.
Number Six, Number Six, even the words make my cock hard and my breath shallow. If I had to tell you I’d leave the rest of them I’d say it over and over again. Just for a taste of what I can only imagine is today a very smooth cunt. If I had to stop writing, stop drinking, and stop lying I’d do them all for a moment of bliss in your ass. If I had to go door to door for the goddamn Mormons for just one minute of you looking in my eyes with my balls against you chin I’d at least make the fucking promise.
I love you too numbers one through five and I want you all more than I could ever put into words (let alone a blog post). But Number Six, if you want me to murder everyone I care about for just seconds of your lips against mine, I would lie through my fucking teeth and tell you I’d do it.