Pubes and Lubes

I overheard a chick talking about her friend who, after a divorce, constantly complained about her cheating husband’s pecker. Apparently, it was short and fat and absolutely hell to work with.

On the one hand, I was thinking about the stuff that I said about Rick’s wanger when we separated. The sentence that I remember most is, “His penis is not only twisted, the head is smaller than the shaft. It looks kind of like a pencil with a worn out eraser.” I guess I can relate to the wife in the story, I knew why she was discussing her hubby’s short, fat ding dong.

But, one the other hand, I was thinking, “That MUST have been a bitch to get in!” And one thought led to another until I was at the point where I was thinking about the guys who I have to help out. If they’re having trouble getting on the ride, I’ll let them try it alone for a minute and then I’ll just help out. Lord knows I’m not going anywhere until it’s over and I’m a busy person.

It shouldn’t be that tough if you understand all the working parts down there. But guys who don’t even part your hair are just asking for trouble. I don’t understand them. They wouldn’t drive their car through a bush yet they’ll take Mr. Happy and try to shove it through a dense little bush downtown. What the HELL is up with that?

If the problem is a lack of lubrication, I usually just let him figure that one out for himself. If he doesn’t get that, then he probably won’t get in because once I realize that a guy is trying to dry hump me, I’m so turned off that it’s not gonna happen anyway. That’s a shoulder tapping time if ever I saw one.

The guys that I help tend to be the ones who have done everything right but for some reason, the thunder down under has a loose nut or something because no matter how hard it gets, it’s still very loose at the joint where it attaches to the change purse. That’s not the guys fault anymore than my ex’s mutant penis is his fault. So, what the hey, I’ll help a guy out under those circumstances.

The only problem with it is, I don’t want the guy to think that I am either:

A. Usurping his role.
or
B. Playing with myself while I’m down there helping him slide that bad boy in.

Unless a guy is microscopic (Like one guy who was so small that I had to walk away from him. Not that I wouldn’t do him, but I couldn’t stop laughing.), he probably will have a bit of a time knocking on heaven’s door because of a resident doctor who did an episiotomy repair with a “few extra stitches”. Chicks in New York are paying a LOT of money to have done what that guy did to me after I had my daughter. That short and fat prick would never get in, I wouldn’t even try.

You know what I find amusing? The next time you’re having the slightest bit of trouble getting a dick in a pussy, you will think of me and it will annoy the hell out of you.

: ) : ) : )

https://mywordandwelcometoit.wordpress.com/2008/11/09/pits-pegs-and-pubes/