Recently, I was home rolling around in my sheets letting my feet find the cold spot. It has been awhile since someone has been in there with me, so I didn't mind my talon toe nails scratching at the fabric. I looked at porn. Bored. I texted randomly. Little response. I found myself on your site. It is days like these where I just want guys to send me pictures of their wieners. Sounds like a good weekend activity.
I wish there was just a group of people who understood that need and I didn't have to talk to them to accomplish this. I didn't want to just look at then online because those could be imaginary. Maybe I had found a place that could help me accomplish this.
Was I going to be a gay guy today? Would I be a woman? Gay guys still make you work for it, unless you have a headless torso. I didn't want to have to go searching for one. The last time I catfish-ed a bunch of gay guys they ended up thirsty at a straight bartender's bar. Aw, memories. Woman it was.
Now what was I going to write? Hmmm. How about this?
"I just broke up with my boyfriend. I found out he was gay. Which explains why we haven't had sex in almost 6 months. My p**** is aching. I need to get it filled by a guy with a big d*** who knows how to work it. You send me pictures of your 7+ d*** and you and I'll send you pictures of me back if I think you can fill my tight hole."
You know how when you're waiting for information and you keep pressing refresh? That's what I idly did for ten minutes. I decided that maybe I wasn't as clever as I thought I was. 30 minutes later when I was resetting my password on an account I don't care enough to remember, I opened up my e-mail again. I wish I had built an ark to protect me against the veritable flood of man wiener.
I perused the responses. I... thought in my sexual experience I had seen lots of different types of ding dongs. Noooooooooope. I was wrong. I noticed that there were plenty of guys who didn't know how to follow instructions (it said include pictures), even though they would tell me what they would do to all my feminine bits. I had to wonder if some of these guys had ever measured or whether that song from The Sweetest Thing was just something that girls were taught when they came of age.
Every time I would find one to respond to, I would get flooded with even more. Old guys, young guys, white guys, black guys, purple guys, oblong guys, and a couple of extraterrestrials. It's been a couple of days and they still keep e-mailing me. I hit on something rather important. My goodies were dropped by a gay guy so everything was still intact and fresh. Also, they would pound me like only a real man could. I think my favorite were the couple of guys who just sent me a picture that made my jaw drop only writing, "Big Enough?" To that Birdo gu:. I am a pretty bitch who can get a man when I want, but I wanted to go window shopping before deciding what to buy.
Thanks for filling my night,