Tangents & The Times

Within the first thirty seconds of you going down on me, I know everything. It’s either going to be a blockbuster with a titillating exposition, surprising plot twists all the way to the astounding climax and snuggly happy endings that feel a lot like how Shia LaBeouf felt when he landed Megan Fox in Transformers OR it’s going to be one of those specials on Animal Planet about the puppies with OCD that lap and lick until their poor paw is raw. I didn’t pay $10.50 to watch Benji gnaw through his forearm so can you fuck me already? No, seriously, it’s doing less than a jacuzzi jet on vacation with my family in Hawaii would be doing. And that look, you know the look you keep opening your eyes as you reach the top of your head-bobbing pattern to catch me doing, yeah, it is not coming. Mostly because I am not coming. And it’s not your fault ! Well, I mean, kinda but I don’t blame you ! Shit, that thing is an entire ecosystem ! I barely know what the hell to do with it and it’s been a part of my body for the past twenty three years. Like, really, I wish I had some ecologists and stakeholders that could point you in the right direction because I am clueless about the entire biosphere and its spacial relationships and trophic levels and g-spots. But I don’t ! And when I realize you don’t either, I’m probably going to exhibit some distinct behaviors.

First, I’m probably going to look kinda stressed out. This is for two reasons, either one, I’m really that uncomfortable or two, you’re boring me and I realized I tooootttally didn’t buy Zissou dog food today and he’s tooooottally on the couch watching you munch my box and hating me for not feeding him / letting you defile me in front of his poor innocent fluffy little eyes. Or both. Actually… yeah, both because seriously I always forget to do shit during the day and if I’m thinking about that, then you’re not adequately entertaining me which makes me uncomfortable because then I start really thinking about what’s going on.

Then, I probably get really quiet. I will do the half-sit-up and probably start pulling your hair. Not the normal ravaging hair pulling I normally do. No. These are extended and precise strong holds on your tufts that say, “Hey, up here, bro… No, seriously, I need to tell you something… FOR GOD’S SAKE, ARE YOU A MAN OR A MOOSE ?! I’M NOT A SALT LICK ! JESUS AHHRHDKJFHDSFS !!!”

Then hopefully you get the point and come up for some air finally and I’ll smile and say,
“Can you just pound me already ?”

And if you know what’s good for you, you will.
Because I know what’s good for me.
And you sloppily siphoning snatch like it’s a god damned Slurpee is NOT IT.

So, you down for some doggy style ?
Of course, you are.