Turns out Shrek is a goon.
I love goons.
Well he’s more like a reformed goon. An educated goon.
He used to call me bust it baby, but now calls me jazzy bell. To him it means a lady in the streets but a freak in the bed.
He wants to put me on the wall, and…
For a quick second, my clit lost its usual twitch and began to tingle.
I can go years without seeing a previous fuck or potential fuck and once horny (or desperate) enough can strike up a conversation with them about the past and quickly get to the present fact that we should be fucking instead of playing games.
Why is it so easy to revert back to our old habits and old fucks? Yet when I haven’t spoken to a female friend from back in the day when life existed outside of school, its almost unbearable to link up again for lunch and figure out what the hell happen.
I’d rather crawl back to the second most random fuck than call a friend who over time has become a memory. At least I can remember her name unlike some of those dicks I fucked. (j/k)
I flashback to a good fuck and automatically I want to call him and find out when he's free. But I can’t muster up the courage to call my friend and ask her, “Bitch, what the hell happened to you?”
I guess chasing an orgasm is much more effortless than salvaging a friendship.
I had this homegirl in undergrad, and the entire four years of knowing her she was always with a man. There was never a two-month gap where she slept alone or in her own bed.
This used to piss me off and I began to consider her weak. She went from freshman boyfriend to Asian fuck friend to Kappa fuck friend, made him into her boyfriend, left him and met another fuck friend.
She has less than half the number of sexual partners I do, but chick was always fucking.
Women are constantly condemned for sexual exploration while men are praised for the same act. So instead of fucking a different man each week we choose to fuck one or two men and make whichever is the most reasonable into a boyfriend.
Now I realize how judgmental and naive I was. She wasn’t a weak female, chick just had serious hoe ass tendencies and could only control them by entering into random relationships with wack ass men to prevent fucking everyone in sight.
To think about it, a lot of my friends suffer from this condition. Shit, I may have it too. I think a lot of women jump from dick to dick and turn them into relationships to mask their true urge to fuck and buck as men do. And then rely on the explanation that fucking 10 boyfriends is better than fucking 10 random dudes whose names you can’t even remember.
But is it really? We jump into bed and into relationships with men to cover the fact that we want to freely fuck random men. And instead of exercising our fundamental right to fuck without commitment, we fuck and force commitment on ourselves to justify being young and horny.
So rather than be a single, horny, whore we become wifey. All the while waiting for the current relationship to end and the cycle to continue.
So now that I’m single and exceedingly horny, how many men will I fuck until subconsciously and socially forced to commit without being labeled a hoe?
Awesome II will be my last new fuck for this year (minus Deondre's coveted dick).
Today, I wrote down the names of every dick I’ve fucked. Looking back I have no idea how my list developed into more than a dozen victims. Like, when did I have enough time to fuck so many people? Not to mention some of them are so random.
Like this football player from freshman year. He was so black. People used to joke that when we fucked the only thing I could make out in the dark were his eyes. I didn’t care what I saw, all that mattered was I could feel his dick. His stroke was pretty decent. Turned out our senior year he was accused of raping some lily, white girl.
Then there’s this random Sigma. I don’t even remember if there was a real orgasm with him. His dick was small and fat. I’m so ashamed of fucking him that his name is not even allowed on the list, its just …
The Kappa with ‘locs was expected. I seduced him on purpose. We worked together and people used to brag about his dick, so me being ubberly curious decided to try it out. It was huge but he lacked foreplay. I rejected his bust it baby offer and he started dating my homegirl. Now they’re in a serious relationship but he still tries to holla at least once a year. She has no idea we used to fuck and always invites me on double dates.
I’d say the most random fuck was my ex. I never imagined fucking his skinny ass. I remember the first time we made out and I discovered his king Kong dick. It was like ordering a Gut Box and finding two free special sauces in your box. I was completely shocked but too delighted to complain. But we know how that dick went, absolutely nowhere.
So for every man I've fucked with feelings, I've also fucked four to match. So starting today, I am only going to fuck men I've already fucked.
I have my clit on this dude whose dick was too big for comfort. He was my personal mechanic and had the best sticky icky I had ever had. He’s a fire fighter now. I’m sure he’s still with his girlfriend who lives somewhere in Florida. Their status doesn't concern me, I didn’t care then and I don’t care now.
I’m going to get his number and call him up. Plus my brakes are squeaking and my oil needs to be changed.
Its official! I have feelings. I like Deondre. Like, I really like this man. Lisa told me this weekend it’s so obvious that I want more than sex. And only tolerate his fuck shit because I’m crazy about him.
So to keep it real, I really like this man. I want to date him. I don’t want him to move away. If he does move away I want to visit. I want more than sex. I deserve more than sex. But I know its just sex.
Maybe he did put a root on my ass.
Lisa thinks Deondre put a root on my ass. I told him what she said and he laughed. He denies such practices. Claims that when he puts that dick on my ass I’ll be praying it was a root instead, because after him there will be no other.
Whatever!
I’ve been catching chills all weekend. Lisa witnessed the first episode while we were studying Saturday. I was reading an article and out of nowhere my body became warm and my clit began to tingle. I was flooded with thoughts of sitting on awesome II’s face.
She burst out laughing and told me too stop thinking about Deondre.
The second chill occurred while riding in the car with a friend. We were returning from Target and were discussing the difference between a moose wearing lipstick and Palin. She yelled “You betcha!” at a McCain bumper sticker. I laughed.
Next thing you know my body became warm and my clit began to tingle. I was overcome with the thought of having my mouth pressed against the wall while awesome fucked me from behind. My lips forming an “O” dressed in MAC’s Port Red are still stained above my headboard.
The third chill happened this morning while talking to Deondre. He told me to check my messages for a surprise. It was another infamous dick and balls pictures. I veered to the right and almost ran into a Charger. I was overwhelmed with the desire to ride the shit out of his dick and get the orgasm I deserve.
Right now, I’m in class listening to this soft spoken ethics wannabe guru. She is so ubberly boring and I keep attempting to distract myself with YBF, but I can’t help the flashbacks and the fantasies from taking over my body.
Faye says I make too many excuses for Deondre. She hates when women make excuses for men. I agree, but the reality is we all make excuses for men. Whether we are fucking them, trying to fuck them, or have been fucked over by them, women naturally curve the amount of bullshit flung there way by lightening the blow with a simple excuse.
She claims she won’t be like most mothers and make excuses for her sons. I told her she’s full of it and will continue to perpetuate the same cycle our grandmothers did. She believes the problem begins during childhood. Mothers make excuses for their sons, and as they develop into men the women in there lives are forced to continue the cycle.
When my little brother was caught kissing a girl in the coatroom, my stepmother exclaimed, “He’s just being a boy.”
When my cousin punched the neighborhood kid in his face and broke his nose, my aunt was proud and exclaimed, “At least my boy ain’t no punk.”
When my father missed my college graduation my mother said, “Don’t get upset, sometimes men forget the simplest things.”
When Deondre played me last week, Faye stated, “He’s a nigga, but I’m sure he’ll call tomorrow.”
No matter how much we try, no matter how the statement is re-worded, women are always liable for excusing the behavior of men.
My homegirl Lisa commented that she’s tired of making excuses for men and wants to date men who are excusable. Men who know no better than to disrespect a woman, not to call when promised, cancel fuck appointments and reappear weeks later as though nothing happened. She believes the only excusable men are goons.
But this only creates the mindset that higher education denotes respect and just plain ole human decency. But it doesn’t. A man with a Ph.D. is not going to respect you because he wrote a 100-page dissertation. He will only respect you if his momma taught him that kissing the little girl in the coatroom was wrong and not something acceptable just because he was a boy.
It’s a vicious cycle and I have no solution, but if an excuse can lighten the harsh reality that most men aren’t shit, that most of them are fuck ass pussy ass niggas, that there is no hope they’ll ever evolve and even when they are 31 they will always be boys waiting for a female to pacify their behavior, then excuses it shall be.
Lisa read the last entry and was pissed at how abrupt it ended. So yes, dude came in my hair. I don't know what happened. He was fucking me from behind and next thing I know he Picasso'd my back and it hit me on the left side of my head.
There was semen in my ear.
Semen in my hair.
And semen on my pillow case.
It took everything in me not to flip. All I could do was screech at him to get the shit out of my hair.
He rushed for the baby wipes, cleaned me up, and ran his fingers through the front of my hair
"Something About Mary," he said and laughed. He attempted to replicate the Diaz jizz spike.
It didn't work.
We fucked for another hour and this time his cum remained in the reservoir tip.
Thank goodness I have a standing hair appointment every Saturday at 6am. When I woke up, the back of my head was matted. It didn't dawn on me until sitting at a red light that my hair was matted because of his dried semen.
I wanted to warn my hairdresser before she applied the perm but I figured what's the worse that could happen.
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