You already know what happened. I know you know. I know you know that I know. He didn't come. Not in my mouth, not in my hair (like last time), not on my stomach...I mean he didn't come see me at all. Fucktard. Fuck fuck fuck! I guess I should start from the beginning.
I'll cut to the chase. Saturday was my school's homecoming dance. Dancing makes me horny (like I needed any help in that area). I watched as some of my peers dry-humped to Hip-Hop or House music and as the more timid ones swayed awkwardly while snapping their fingers. I knew I was going to invite douchebag over however bad of an idea it was. He said he couldn't come over, so I was like okay, fuck you, that's the last straw. 2:25 am rolls around and I hear the pleasant little bell chime notifying me of a new text message. It's him! I felt like a six-year-old girl who got a pony for her birthday. "Let's have sex," it said. Ummmm what the fuck? I asked him why he didn't come over earlier if that's what he wanted. "I had something to do, I did it, and I wanted to come over." Right. Like I don't know what that means. There's several conclusions I can draw from this. A) He was with another chick and didn't get lucky, B) He was with his boys and didn't want to say "hey guys, gotta go for a booty call with the girl I don't want to tell any of you about," C) He was playing video games and reached a level where he could save. There could be others, but those seem likely to me.
I told him that I had work in the morning and he couldn't come over, so sorry, asshole. "I want you so bad. I want to be inside you." Ah, fuck. The cooch got wet and my brain went fuzzy. Okay...maybe I'll make an exception this one time...No, wait. I've made numerous excuses for him and his asshole ways. I'm breaking my one rules and being a hypocrit. I tell my friends not to put up with this type of bullshit from guys, yet I do the same fucking thing. The war between my brain and my crotch was giving me a fucking headache and I relented. I told him he could come over tomorrow after I got off work and after I was done studying. "I can't wait. You're going to feel more pleasure than ever before. I can't wait to taste that sweet pussy again." Yeah, because you went down on me for like 30 seconds last time, douche. You're not getting away with that again.
So, Sunday rolls around. I told him he could come over at like 9ish and he said that would be fine. 10 o'clock comes around and he's nowhere to be seen. I don't text him, or call him, or anything. I already know. I look on my AIM and see an away message of a mutual friend of mine and d-bag's. "At the movies with my husband!" it says. FUCK! I know she means him because they have this gay little joke. This girl has mind control over him. Anything she wants, he does. She won't date him because she just wants to be friends, in reality I think she's a cold prude who hasn't ever fondled her own boobs.
Again, I don't contact him after I find this new information. Instead of going to see a cliche chick flick with the ice queen he could have been pounding away listening to some heavy metal. I mean, in my head, the two don't even seem comparable. Guaranteed sex.......or movie with stick figured cuntrag? Okay, Bob, I'll take the movie.
Fuck. My. Life.
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No. FUCK. HIM. There is no doubt in my mind he is either an idiot or an asshole. You need to get a guy with a 8 inch long tongue and send Douchebag a video. Next time he texts, say your busy. Masturbating. With a thimble. Maybe next time.
You're young, sexy, enjoy blowjobs, hot, like blowjobs, FANTASY FOOTBALL!!!, give blowjobs, beer, more sexy, and have a pussy that WANTS PENIS. Honestly, is there a man alive that would choose being with a boys and then NOT WANTING TO TELL THAT HE GOT A GIRL THAT WANT SO FUCK AND FUCK AND FUCK or play goddamn VIDEO GAMES? He fucked with you. Wish him herpes and get a guy that knows how to treat the nympho right.
I could understand front row tickets to a concert, or perhaps something he had been planning for a long time and longing for, but just a movie?
You've done nothing wrong. You were just hopeful. And we want that. So enjoy penises. And tongues. But not his. Because he has already dreamed about eating you out twice, once to the outcome of 30 seconds and a blowjob in your hair, and the next to a movie. And not one with you.
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