(50% honesty moment and 50% shots fired.)
Why be cute, you know? Why go the PC route? I rather you just tell me what you really want to do. Lord knows that it has nothing to do with the verbs “see” or “chill”. You trying to fuck. Say it with me on one..two...three: “I’m trying to fuck you”.
Feel better? You should. Why even lie to me and yourself? Every time we hang out, we end up smashing. How would think this day be different. Oh? You actually want to have a conversation? Shit … you wanna talk?! Converse? Chat? 1-2? Well, excuse me. That’s new. The only noises you tend to hear from me are from the orgasmic variety. That screaming, moaning, “fuck” shit. You and I and sentences don’t compute. Actually … “damn.”, “shit,” and “fuck.” are sentences. Check Strunk & White. Besides, I bet you rather hear me choking on something than trying to clear my throat in anticipation of something to say.
I don’t think I’m coming off too bold or harsh here. Honesty is the best policy, right? Honesty, I want to look at you than more than a casual fuck. You’re too smart, honorable and decent for that distinction. But I guess in your eyes, I’m just a smut. A smut you can fuck all the way out. Smut me all the way the fuck out.
Smut me all the way the fuck out.
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