I’m watching Made. This dumb bitch is trying to transform a funny girl into a “ladylike” girl. This means she’s trying to stop her from swearing, “acting like a dude,” and talking about other people. I mean, it would be awful if women had opinions. A dating expert just told her that she had to wait for him to kiss her, she couldn’t make the first move.
Today’s entry will therefore be written as if I were a girl. Not as if I was a girly girl, but rather the girl I would have been had my parents gotten what they wanted and I had popped out with a vagina.
I don’t mind a small dick. When a dude drops trow to display his 4 1/2″ erection, I don’t get disappointed, I get excited. This just means that he is bound to feel as awkward about getting jiggy as I feel about … everything. It’s not that I don’t enjoy a big filthy cock, I love it when I get pumped full of jizz by a hose of massive proportions, but my constant masturbation has trained me well to deal with needle dicks.
So, I can still get off, and at least now while I’m getting off he feels like he’s inadequate. I like being on the same level.
An example of a place I feel unmanageably uncomfortable is on elevators. From a young age, watching tv commercials has trained me to assume that elevators are the perfect place to look away abashedly as some psuedo-hot grungy dude makes eyes at you. Then when the elevator doors open you are making out passionately while the laundry you were carrying is strewn around the elevator. Then ice smoke comes out of your mouth and people buy gum. So, whenever I get into an elevator, my girlyness increases and I start attempting to contrive situations where we “accidentally” touch the same button. I end up thinking so much about it that I get out on the wrong floor, or smell my armpit, or fart. All those things could be adorably awkward, Garden State style, but I end up fucking that up too by apologizing loudly for being on the wrong floor, or explaining the fact that I forgot to shave my armpits today, so that’s why I’m worried about the sweat increase.
If a dude responded to my pit-sniffing by whipping out his “inadequet” dong, I’d be down. Fuck, I’d go down on him right there. It’s easier to suck a small penis anyway.
Speaking of inadequacies – I’m conflicted about early ejaculators. It fits in with my tiny dick fetish that I’d also be comfortable with jizz-advances, but I also love to get off. If a guy rockets quickly and then feels it his duty to go munch on rug, then that’s perfect. While I hate getting my snatch lapped up as pre-sex activity because I feel guilty that he has to deal with my dirty citrus yogurt, if he already feels guilty because his dick can’t control itself, then we get to just have a guilt-festival in bed. And that shit is hott.
Nothing turns me on more than realizing that guilt is the only thing powering us through this unbearably awkward sexual experience.
So, any guys who want to pre-ejack with their tiny dick in an elevator, comment below, I’m ready for you to go down.
If anyone is wondering what H2$’s type is: it’s H2$. I just want to masturbate with another person.