Lying For Sex Part 14

Aug 16, 2016 | | Say something

When I return to the bar from the bathroom, I notice that Jessica has some down-time. She is looking into one of those hand-held mirrors and putting on more lipstick and adjusting her make-up in various ways. I watch her do this until she is finished. She turns around and sees me and smiles. “I was wondering where you went! I was worried you didn’t like me anymore and were gone forever,” she admits.

Women need to learn how to not get old.

“That’s so sweet Jessica, you’re giving me cavities. I find it really attractive that you’re sad when I’m gone,” I say. I like it because it’s a power trip. I am dominating her mind, mwahahahaha. Soon her vagina will be mine. Perhaps she will even become so attached to me that I will be able to take her for granted, every man’s dream. But I am getting ahead of myself. “Do some shots with me!” I exclaim with an exclamation mark.

“I can’t! They’ll fire me and then I’ll be homeless and I’ll starve to death and die.” This is bad news; she has the ability to think long-term. My penis is not pleased.

“I would never let anything like that happen to you,” I say, staring straight into her eyes and holding the look. “You can count on me to protect you.” I am over ten thousand dollars in debt. “Who are these people that oppressing you like this? I’ll slap them in the face with my gigantic dick.” I am so ashamed of my penis that sometimes I cry about it while I’m masturbating. “Get me three more shots babe. I’ll give you a good tip.” Tip of my dick.

“Cumming right up,” she says, turning around to grab shot glasses and booze. She lines them up so the rims are touching and pours them all at once without turning the bottle back up. She returns the bottle back to its rightful place, looks at my face, then looks down at my chest. I hate it when girls stare at my tits. “Pace yourself. I saw a guy puke on his wife last night. There were meatballs in it that he apparently swallowed whole.” I want Jessica to swallow my cock whole.


I can’t talk to women at the gym because I don’t have my boner-hiding jeans

“Don’t worry, I can hold my liquor. Look.” I reply, holding my shot up. She doesn’t laugh and it makes me mad. I throw the whisky into my face and gulp loudly. People tell me I swallow too loud. But I can’t help it. “I like what you did with your eye shadow Jessica.” I don’t give two fucks how a girl does her make-up. They kill baby dolphins to make lipstick.

“No you don’t,” she shoots back. “Nobody here likes what I look like because I don’t have my tits out. They all stare at the fucking strippers all night. It’s like I’m invisible.” This makes me think about her boobs. I’m so horny I could fuck a cow.

“Did you notice that I’m here paying attention to you? Don’t I count for anything? Your boobs are the only boobs I’m interested in.” As soon as I say it, I know I fucked up. I wish there was a way I could vacuum words back into my throat. I mentioned that I’m interested in her boobs, a deadly sin.



“What? So you only care about me for my tits?” I didn’t say that of course, but what the fuck does that matter. It’s the endless struggle of dealing with a woman, doing damage control for the most minuscule offenses, whether they’re imagined or real. “Maybe I should just become a stripper. You’d like that wouldn’t you, you could just look at me naked and leave like all the other men.”

What the fuck? This really throws me off and I let my jaw drop a little, and my eyebrows furrow. But I recover quickly. “Why would you even want to be like them? They’re not happy.” I don’t know that. “You’re better than them and I’m sorry that other people aren’t telling you this, but you are. Women like that are gross.” They’re actually so sexy it makes me want to cry. Out of my penis.


So jealous.



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