I want a romantic man...who will be chivalrous and dashing and will hold open doors and bring me flowers and kiss me on the hand and then take me back to his place and slam fuck me.
So you're basically asking for me, but I think it's clear and I that we're totally wrong for each other baby but don't worry because there'll be other limo drivers in your life.
Don't be floored by my childlike joy in afflicting the journals of others with retarded, inane, often offensive asshole comments. I'm really just a disgruntled guy whose hometown is devoid of single interested (interesting) women who like romantic guys who can be chivalrous and dashing and hold open doors and bring flowers and kiss hands and slam-fuck. Actually, I could probably find someone fitting most of the few bit there if I went cruising by the local high schools for young meat, but most of them are afraid of cocks and would throw themselves at the foot of a nunnery after a good slam-fucking. And the girls into slam-fuckery usually seem to prefer opening their own god-damned doors, thank you very much.
As much as I'd like to devirginize some girl and be able to say afterward that it was so hot and intense she ran away to become a nun, I'd rather not risk "but she said she was a senior, Officer, and she bought those cigarettes herself so I just assumed..." because then I'd just be a rapist forever. And because I live in California, my name would show up in the on-line rapist registry.
Well, I like Less Than Zero, but it's the only one I've read. And this was maybe two years ago on a train to San Jose.
Reading this on Amtrak alone at night while the couple behind me give each other handjobs under a blanket was more disturbing than it probably ought to have been, but that's the place I was, mentally and emotionally, at precisely that moment in time.
I might have been jealous about the handjobs, I don't know.
Don't be floored by my childlike joy in afflicting the journals of others with retarded, inane, often offensive asshole comments. I'm really just a disgruntled guy whose hometown is devoid of single interested (interesting) women who like romantic guys who can be chivalrous and dashing and hold open doors and bring flowers and kiss hands and slam-fuck. Actually, I could probably find someone fitting most of the few bit there if I went cruising by the local high schools for young meat, but most of them are afraid of cocks and would throw themselves at the foot of a nunnery after a good slam-fucking. And the girls into slam-fuckery usually seem to prefer opening their own god-damned doors, thank you very much.
As much as I'd like to devirginize some girl and be able to say afterward that it was so hot and intense she ran away to become a nun, I'd rather not risk "but she said she was a senior, Officer, and she bought those cigarettes herself so I just assumed..." because then I'd just be a rapist forever. And because I live in California, my name would show up in the on-line rapist registry.
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Reading this on Amtrak alone at night while the couple behind me give each other handjobs under a blanket was more disturbing than it probably ought to have been, but that's the place I was, mentally and emotionally, at precisely that moment in time.
I might have been jealous about the handjobs, I don't know.
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Train behavior is strange.
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