We’ve all been there.

You’re sitting there. Biscuit crumbs stuck to your tits, your hair looking like a poorly done beehive (although let’s be real, were beehives ever not poorly done) and watching a show on tv you probably hate but there is literally NOTHING ON.

You start talking to someone online. You might know them. You might not. You might even be flirting with them because why the fuck not.

Then DING DONG and I’m not talking about a fucking doorbell.

You know, the picture that looks like they’ve stretched the poor worm out to match the size of a remote. Or maybe they have a very nice perpendicular appendage.

Doesn’t. Fucking. Matter.

If I don’t ask for it, I don’t want it.

The worst part is they get offended if you don’t want it. Like you should feel graced with the presence of not a penis, but a PICTURE of a penis. As if that’s gonna fucking do something for me? I would rather read a story from literotica than sit there and imagine something equivalent to a baby carrot being placed inside my vagina. Takes more than just a penis, lads!

Maybe it would get me off. Maybe I could imagine the feel of it especially with some “sweet talking” from the penis’ handler. Except I’m quite capable of getting real dick.

Oh and lads, please learn how to handle rejection. Telling me I should “go and get raped, pig” is not gonna make me regret rejecting your sorry ass.



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