By A O
If only men knew the trouble we go through before we fuck them. Especially if it is for the first time.
How you spend 15 minutes to shower, 5 extra than you normally do just to shave the extra hair, rinse your vagina four times, bring a pocket mirror, check if the labia majora, labia minora are sparkling and test the sensitivity of your clit.
How you spend minutes in the mirror musing about your body insecurities. The bulging belly that has refused to go away despite you cutting on red meat and quaffing copious amounts of herbal tea.
The black spots you hide with generous layers of snail foundation applied meticulously thanks to YouTube tutorials. The love handle here, the stretch mark there.
How you apply lotion pedantically like an artist including the parts you’d normally ignore like your buttcrack. Then you go for a matching bra and panty all for a fucktard who will come with his unmoisturised ass and his tiny dick will be choking in a mass of rough, dark pubic hair.
Then you unleash the poor thing from the bush that has it caged and administer cardiopulmonary resuscitation (cpr) by taking it in your mouth and blowing life into it.
And when it is hard, you notice it is not that tiny after all, so you sit on it and for the few minutes you ride your trouble away…Until you your head gets light and your belly tightens and your breath quickens, short, gaspy and raspy ,then…”heaven is that you? Damn ,Jesus, so you are indeed black?!!”
Then because most of these tactless dolts think romping is incomplete until they’re on top, you let him slide in you. His breath is not very pleasant, he snorts even. His thrusts are uncoordinated, thrown carelessly like Sudi’s words or Huddah’s legs. He fails like Jubilee’s government to join the rhythm you try to set for him. Just when you think he is getting it; just as his tempo increases slightly and his thrusts gets a little verve… The walls of Jericho come tumbling over.
So this man whose masculinity exists largely in his imagination dashes you 200k for all your trouble and effort. Then turns back to blame you for his insufficient, moronic inadequacies and gross lack of bedroom skills and tags you “A BOREHOLE!!”
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