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xmag.com : December 2003 : I Love Las Vegas

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:







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