So
I broke up with my guy. I didn't
like how he treated me and he didn't
appreciate me expounding on his
cock or that he was a loser in print.
So I called it quits.
Of
course I still love the guy. Of
course I wanted him back two days
later. Something about stripping
and having everyone adore you onstage
makes going home alone extra lonesome.
So after ten days without him, I
flipped out.
Strippers
and customers alike had promised
me that he'd see the error of his
ways eventually and come back like
a good little doggy. The best way
to get this to happen, they said,
was to a) leave him alone or b)
fuck his brother, his best friend,
his uncle, his ex-girlfriend, my
ex-boyfriend and his boss. I was
willing to try anything. But first
I thought I'd see if my own strategy
of revealing to him that I was a
psychotic nymphomaniac would make
him come around. So I drove to his
house, 'cuz we had to "talk."
He
lives out in the country. I'd driven
a long way during deadline just
to do this so when I saw him heading
towards town in his pick-up I blocked
the road with my Volvo. He was headed
to Burgerville for breakfast with
his big hungry friend and their
two hungry dogs.
"We
have to talk."
"You're
in no shape to talk and we're starving."
"We
HAVE TO TALK!!!!!"
He
saw I was crazy. Said we'd talk
when he got back. So I went to his
house and sobbed in his bed until
I couldn't sob anymore. Finally
he returned.
"So
what do you want to talk about?"
"Pleeeeease
let me suck your cock. Pleeeeeeease!"
"No,
Viva. We're just pals. Pals don't
suck each others' cocks."
I
started sobbing again until he relented.
I was still whimpering, sucking,
crying when his friend's little
Chihuahua got in on the action.
The aptly named Johnson was a four
month old fireball of unneutered
male dog. His tiny two inch puppy
penis was already out and ready
to do some damage! He started humping
my arm. I shooed him away and concentrated
on the blow job at hand.
One
thing led to another and we started
fucking--glorious ex-sex, with my
tears all over his face and me sucking
on every inch of him like a baby
that hasn't seen a tit in a while.
I was on the bottom, coming, crying,
coming some more when I realized
the wonderful attention being lavished
on my breasts was not the work of
my ex but of Johnson! He was suckling
and nibbling on my nipples with
just the right amount of pressure.
I shooed him away again, but halfheartedly.
This dog was alright!
I
climbed on top--coming, crying,
coming.... Breaking up seems to
unleash passions that weren't in
play before. You want to eat your
former lover alive, you're so empty,
hurt, jealous or whatever. Which
makes for stellar sex. The best
sex ever is often ex-sex.
Anyway,
I was really getting my rocks off.
When the stars in my head cleared
for a moment, I started to wonder
how it was that my ex-lover was
simultaneously devouring my tongue
and my asshole. Maybe he
had better skills than I'd given
him credit for! Or maybe the guy
on ass detail was..... JOHNSON!
Friends
have told me not to print this one,
that PETA will come after me for
sure. Like I was intentionally inciting
him to take out his tiny tinkler!
Whatever! If anyone was victimized
it was I. Sure, I've been known
to masturbate my cat (she demands
it) and Busta (an Exotic office
dog who will literally push your
hand from his head to his cock's
head in one practiced motion), but
I would never offer my services
to a four month old puppy! That's
petophilia!
It
is time for a new bumper sticker
on the Volvo, though:
I
love CHIHUAHUAS.
