the thrill is gone

When I was younger, I was a Predator. I had no problem with it and never worried about what people might have thought about me as a result. For a couple of years, I was on a mission to see as many peni as possible. I was really good at it, too.

Now...I'd probably pay men to keep their peni to themselves. This past weekend, one got rubbed up against me and my initial urge was to get up and leave! What has happened to me? Have I lost my mind? My typical reaction has always been, Let's see what that sucker looks like.

Now, I guess I just run away.

Penis comes with work, you know? The male attached to the penis inevitably wants to chat, which leads to me finding out how *yawn* he is. Maybe that's all this weekend was about: boredom. The rubbing fool loved to talk, but only about himself. I just can't tolerate one-sided conversations, anymore.

Unless there's a blog involved.

One day, I'm sure the thought of penis will excite me again. Until then, I'll be in my comfy, down-covered, high-thread-count sheeted bed. Alone.

Blissfully alone.

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happyfeet
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