DICK for a BRAIN

Longing

Tue, 16 Oct 2012 18:24:57 -0400

I know what I heard, but my imagination spins the ideas out of control. She did say it had crossed her mind. The possibility had consumed me ever since our first kiss. But it was just too damn impossible, too large, too perfect of a disaster to ever really believe in. I was afraid of it honestly, scared shitless.

She was a bar table away, leaning in close. I didn’t break eye contact, not once. I couldn’t look away if we were both in flames. I leaned in as close as possible, as it was loud in the bar and I didn’t want to miss a word. But I’m getting ahead of myself. I do that when I’m like this, all mixed up in impossible outcomes, smitten and stupid. Let me begin again.

I had known her since forever, but she wasn’t mine. My friend (who wasn’t really a real friend, now was he?) had spoken for her long before I had the chance. Thankfully so, as his poor heart bore the consequences of her growing into a woman. I never had more than a deep sexual interest in her. No, scratch that, she was a friend, one of my closest actually. She’s that type of person I can not see or talk to for months and pick right back up where we left off. We’re like-minded individuals unified by our confusion of the human race at large. She just fucking understands!

The attraction wasn’t always so dark and perverted, but it turned that way as she grew more into herself. Her sexual revolution exploded before me, requesting I take nude photos of her. She frequently teased me, on purpose or not, I’ll never know. Whenever I was bored inside of another woman it was her that I’d picture spread before me. The image never failed to get me off. Years went by, she drifted off to college and back. I remember one night with a few too many in my blood I was feeling brave enough to tell her. “You are my go-to fantasy, and have been for years now.” Like she didn’t know that. Women know everything long before you’re comfortable admitting to it. I wondered if she had similar attractions and desires.

Fast forward a few years and bad relationships later, to the night where we decided to get drunk together. Out of nowhere she informed me that we were going to fuck. It was going to happen. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. I must’ve had quite the look on my face. I had arrived at last. I can honestly say I had never waited so long to be with someone, although I honestly never really imagined it would happen.

Does that even make sense? Pining for someone without ever believing or really trying to make it happen? I was totally comfortable in the thought that I’d live the rest of my life without ever even kissing her, and now she’s telling me we are going to fuck? This knocked me for a loop. At the time, she was in an open-relationship, in fact, I liked her boyfriend a helluva lot. I texted him immediately for approval, an act which even know seems so strange and foreign.

And fuck we did, but not right then. First we had to build up the suspension. The tease. I had to let her know that I’d been practicing my entire life to please her in every way possible. Every sexual encounter that came before was merely practice for this moment. We fooled around for a month here and there. I didn’t feel I had performed as good as I would’ve liked, but we had fun. It was rememberable, for me at least. I had no idea what she was thinking of course, not ever. I kept it totally casual and honestly didn’t want anything beyond our friendship and random sexual encounters. We eventually put the cat back in the cage as her relationship got more serious.

Time passed. Our friendship reset back to it’s old, familiar self. At a certain point, it seemed more like a fever dream that couldn’t possibly have happened. A dream I thought of often. Then one day a few weeks ago, she needed some hang time with her old buddy. I hurried along, curious to see what was new. It seemed her relationship had grown stale and she was at a crossroads. Talking to her reminded me how much we have in common, how much history we share, and I’m not ashamed to admit this: how much I was still attracted to her. Of course, I had to keep that to myself and contained in a neat little prison in the corner of my mind. I didn’t want to sound insane. But I was deeply insane. She had that effect on me.

Another week later and we decide to hit up a few dive bars. Now she’s single, possibly on the prowl. I try not to be too giddy, but I keep trying to think of ways to steer the conversation toward talk of our sexual fling, but won’t. I don’t want to be the one to bring it up and seem uncouth. You see, it’s far too easy for a woman to think you only think about them sexually, that you don’t also treasure their company. And in most cases with men, it is the only thing on their mind until they cum. What happens next is, do you want to hang out with this girl and talk after it’s over? And I did.

Which brings us back to this loud bar, with me leaning close to her. She’s just said “Of course after we hooked up I thought about it. What’d it be like if we ended up together? How it would’ve went? Women can’t help but think that, every time.”

She thought about it. She actually thought about us. Even if just for a moment. This erodes any fear I have, so I bypass straight to business, telling her what I want to do to her later. And she wants me to do these things. These dirty things that preoccupy our minds at all times, they’re in sync, we’re in sync. Life is amazing. She feels so good. Until it gets too real. Until I look into her eyes while I kiss her. Oh those eyes, they are truly the death of me.

We get these little glimpses of perfection and run away. She’s too perfect, but really she’s not. Eventually, we’d find each other’s flaws and pick them apart. I can’t stand to think of doing that to her. I can’t allow myself to ever fuck it up. I’m so scared of her. I’m terrified beyond belief. I can’t ever let myself fall for her. If I did, it’d be the end of me. I fell in love like that once and I never put the pieces back together. She did too. That’s why we make so much sense to each other, but we’ll always be too broken.

Days go by and I’m deeper into the mystery. I have no idea what she’s thinking, the clever girl. Do I flirt? Do I give her a friendly hug? Do I throw her up against the wall and pretend it’s the end of the world? No.

I’ll just carry on and act normal. Pretend this hole in me doesn’t exist. Pretend it was just a dream. Because it was, in some ways.

I fell in love with the town whore...

Sun, 15 May 2011 23:41:41 -0400

Let me tell you about my greatest tragedy. The time I fell in love with the town whore and fixed her up as best I could. We’ll call her Jamie, for the purpose of this story.

When I met her she was far too young to flirt with, but I did it anyway. I did this because, most everyone else I knew had sexual contact of some kind with her already. So I didn’t feel guilty. And so I tried, somewhat awkwardly, to flirt with this girl every chance I got. At parties I’d fawn all over her. It never got me anywhere as she almost always banged one of my friends instead. I wasn’t her type because I hadn’t learned how to play the asshole card yet. In other words, it was that total fucking awful cliche you’ve seen in countless stupid movies. In fact, I remember picking her up for a party once, only so she could get real drunk and blow three different guys, none of which were me.

For some reason, I still wanted her. Not only did I want her, I wanted to fix her. I knew that there was a great girl somewhere in that damaged shell, and I’d pull her out and show her to the world. Despite her many flaws, she was beautiful. And it didn’t hurt that she had the most perfect tits I’d ever seen in my life, pornos and titty bars included.

I remember I had started dating someone else, but it went bad. Real bad. I was slumming it like a sad sack at a party when Jamie starts actually paying attention to me. For once, I wasn’t interested, in fact, I ignored her. I had played the asshole card without even knowing it. Sadly, this worked like a charm.

Before I know it, I’m making out with Jamie in the bathroom. I even pulled her tits out. I couldn’t believe this was happening, finally.

Before I could get too worked up though, she was on to the next flame. I left the party, in an even sadder state.

This little mating dance went on for a month or two, until finally, the both of us were extremely wasted. We ended up finding a field to go fuck in at 3 or 4 in the morning. I was very excited because this was the first girl I had ever actively sought out and wanted to fuck. And she was way out of my league.

This would’ve been so amazing if not for the fact that she wanted me to rape her.

Nowadays, a rape scenario would not be a problem for me. But at that time, especially since it was my first time with her, it totally ruined it for me. In fact, it made me realize just how bad this poor girl had it.

That’s when I knew I had to fix her. And that’s also when I set about ruining my life for many years to come.

(much) Older Women

Mon, 21 Feb 2011 16:19:00 -0500

It had been nearly two years since I’d felt a woman underneath me. I had forgotten what it had felt like. Masturbation filled my every private moment. Most days I’d have to make myself cum six or seven times just to function. God, I was so goddamned lonely.

I installed a chat program on my computer called ICQ. Get it, I seek you, how fucking clever! It was a horridly buggy and unattractive program, but it seem like horny and depraved women flocked to it. One lonely night in November I began talking up a woman name Ruby. She was 42 according to her profile, but no pictures. At some point during our second or third conversation I asked her to describe herself. Curvy, was the response. Make with that what you will. I figured that this surely meant she was plump. Fat. Rotund. I didn’t care, because fat usually meant that big tits went along with the package.

Eventually, the nerve was worked up, and I met Ruby in a seedy bar, far from the judgmental eyes of my friends. A beer was sent my way from the bartender, paid for by the lady at the end of the bar. There sat Ruby, not much to look at, but she was curvy. Extremely so, in fact, with the largest tits poking out of her low cut black top. She had short black hair and was herself short in stature. We sat at a table close to each other as I fumbled through several topics of conversation. She reminded me of those ancient fertility statues in shape.

She grew bored with idle chit chat, her hand creeping into my pants under the table. The bar had to have at least 70 people in it, but there was my penis, growing to life in her hand. I spotted a friend walk in just then. How would I explain this? I pulled my enlarged member back to privacy and told her I’d call her later, then made my way out the back.

I sat in my car for a long time, turning over the possibilities. My cock got the best of me as it throbbed at the thought of sliding inside of her. It had been a very, very long time, after all.

It was late when I got there, after 3, she had left the door unlocked with instructions to join her upstairs. I was terrified, wondering around in a dark and unfamiliar house. I felt like a rapist for a moment, and considered turning back. No fucking way was that going to happen.

Then I turned a corner to see her naked above the sheets, spread and ready. I slipped on a condom and with no more than two sentences uttered, we began fucking. It was a bit awkward at first but I found my rhythm. She came twice, scratching at my back. I pulled out of her and she took me into her mouth. I came all over her face. I had never done that before, but she requested it. She lay there in bed with cum dripping of her chin. She might not have washed it till morning, I wouldn’t know. I left as soon as I could get my pants on.

I continued fucking her off and on for over a year, maybe once or twice a month. It was an easy relationship. She taught me so many things. She was my first titty fuck, along with many other “firsts”. We’d call one another, eat pizza perhaps, fuck our brains out and carry on with our separate lives. It was the best, while it lasted, but these things never do. I don’t know what became of her. I think she might actually be dead now. She had a brain tumor when we last spoke. I often pass by her house on the way to the grocery and wonder what it’d be like to go fuck her again. To thank her for what she taught me, if nothing else.

I always recommend finding an older lover when you’re young. It might hurt one of you, but it’s worth the experience.

Dry Spell

Sat, 18 Dec 2010 22:51:38 -0500

I went back to school shortly after exposing myself at the party. It left me shaken and unsure of myself. The town was small and malicious, so stories of my escapades spread far and wide. There was no going back there ever again if I wanted to get laid. Too much dirty laundry. Sniveling cowards and there sideways glances were all I could see, imaginary or not. I had outgrown that place anyway. So back to college I went for my final year.

The last year of school kept me far too busy to chase skirts, so at first I didn’t notice that I wasn’t getting laid. Then school let up, but I had no rapport whatsoever. I’d ask girls out and get stood up or turned down. Worse yet, they’d end up as friends and I’d end up beating off.

Luckily, I had just discovered the internet. If you were patient enough, you could download three or four pics an hour of naked women. It was amazing at the time, but looking back now, I wonder how I ever had the patience to cum.

And so, my daily routine of school work, masturbating to 36k download speeds and going to bed lonely continued for a year. Graduation came and I moved to a new city. This new city was full of potential, but I didn’t have connections. My only friends in this new town were even more clueless about women than I was. Our usual weekend plans consisted of going to Hooters and then maybe hitting a strip club. Any other time we’d just go to the mall or hang out in a friend’s basement.

I was going nowhere fast. Looking at a calendar one day made me realize it had been two years since I’d had sex. How did this happen? How did I go back to being a fucking loser?

I realized that maybe I needed to throw my standards out the window. I was also going to throw my cock against the wall and see what stuck.

Command Performances

Thu, 16 Dec 2010 16:56:00 -0500

I had arrived back in my small, repressed town a new man, a man who knew what pussy felt like. I was hot to trot and determined to stick anyone who was willing. Two weeks later I’m riding to town with three friends, my cousin and two girls I didn’t know that well. It was one of those cold autumn nights where you’d just ride around the countryside with nothing to do except start trouble.

I looked at the blonde to my right with no enthusiasm. I’ve never went for blondes when there were other choices available. The second gal, now there was something brewing. She was my height, extremely skinny with kinky brunette curls and dark eyes. She was as flat as a math book, but she made up for it with the prettiest lips I’d ever seen.

She’d had two bud lights and her hand was down my pants with everyone in the car pretending not to notice. While everyone exited the car to go sit by the river, we stayed behind. Parts were stroked and teased but nothing was unbuttoned or unzipped. Steam covered the windows. She had quite the teeth, biting me so hard she drew blood. I liked it and wanted more, so I made some half handed bullshit excuse and we were dropped off by my car.

Twenty minutes later I’m sitting in an abandoned ball field outside of town getting a blowjob. Not just any blowjob either, it was world class. I exploded quickly, shooting her throat full of cum. She swallowed it all, leaving me feeling helpless and spent. Turns out she liked to be fisted. Fisting, as it turns out, is not easy, and it hurts you more than the girl sometimes.

We met up a week later in a warehouse her father owned. She kept joking that she’d like to fuck me, but I’d probably cum to fast and get her pregnant. We had condoms, so sex was out, but she begged me to fuck her ass. With no lube, that wasn’t happening either. So went for the mutual oral sex as is standard in a no condom situation. This time I got my whole fist inside her pussy. It hurt like hell, but she bucked and kicked like a wild horse, grunting out an orgasm that was quite frightening.

We had one more session after that at a friend’s party. There was several people there and I begged the host to use his bedroom in the back. He agreed, so long as I didn’t fuck on his bed. I would’ve fucked in an active volcano in those days, so the floor was fine with me. I had condoms this time and she was ready to go. We did everything with the lights on, which was new to me. I fucked her doggy style, watching my cock pull in and out of her, the lips of her vagina flowing along with the strokes. It was magnificent. She threw me on the floor and road me. I suddenly felt strange, like we were being watched. I kept at it, putting aside the feeling.

She tried to shove my cock in her ass, once again proving unsuccessful. After that failed attempt, she put me in her mouth and finished me off. It was somewhat unsatisfying. I couldn’t shake that strange feeling, and sure enough, I was right to feel spooked.

After walking out of the bedroom fully clothed, I was greeted by all the party-goers clapping. Apparently, the blinds in the room were totally see-thru. Everyone saw everything. I was unsure of how to handle it, so I left. The incident left me a bit uneasy for a long time. The girl and I never had any further dealings. It would be a long, long time before I’d get laid again.

Cheap is how I feel

Tue, 14 Dec 2010 00:00:19 -0500

I had slept with Tarra for the third Tuesday in a row. She was properly wasted during our last fuck, muttering on about how she’d be good to me. I saw a frightening path laying out before me so I got off the train.

The following Tuesday I should’ve stayed at home, but I went to the bar anyways. That night bass-player Tarra was already marking new territory since she couldn’t bark up my tree. So guitar-player Tarra decided to take her place. I didn’t even have to work at this encounter. She was standing next to me at the bar as I ordered a beer. She leaned in close enough for only me to hear her say, let’s go to your apartment later.

It was unbelievable. I was a virgin three weeks prior. Now a large breasted blonde was commanding me to fuck her later. At last, my time had come. Not more than two hours later, I was nervously slipping a condom on, pushing myself inside her.

Just as she knew she wanted to use me for sex, she also knew exactly how to use me. She was riding me, rubbing her clit furiously, just like I had seen in a million pornos before that night. She came no less than three times in the first thirty minutes, no thanks to my efforts. I simply had to be present and erect, the rest would work itself out. She had huge tits. I watched them bounce up and down as she rode me, trying my best to cum, once again unable. At least the condom didn’t slide off this time. We went at it for an hour, then I drove her home. She said thanks, and that was that. I felt thoroughly used and I liked it.

It warmed my heart to find that there were women out there that knew what they wanted and took it without needing to play some game. I wanted to fuck her as soon as she walked inside her door, but I never so much as kissed her again.

Put me out of my misery...

Tue, 07 Dec 2010 15:58:35 -0500

I had become a frequent guest at the open mic night down at the local blues bar. I was in a lonely and desperate slump, fearing that I’d never succeed in getting laid.

At 20, carrying around the v-card was a noose, ever tightening around my neck. And then I saw her on stage, holding a bass guitar. She was a tiny little thing, barely holding up that bass. I watched the all female band play three songs all while my eyes shifted from member to member, always leading back to the bassist. They were terrible, but they had tits, and that meant something.

We made eyes once or twice, but I had no idea that it meant anything. It was my turn to play. The only time at that age I ever felt confident was when I could hide behind a guitar. I’d always heard that the instrument would help score with the ladies, but I hadn’t reaped the benefits of that myth. Yet.

I played three songs and headed for a drink. The bassist introduced herself as Tara. We talked about our mutual sets and had a laugh. I left and didn’t think anything of it. This event was repeated for weeks until finally Tara got drunk enough to ask me to drive her home. My apartment was on the way, and I nervously asked her if she’d like to see it. We went upstairs. We talked for hours. Eventually, she tried wrestling me. Then we kissed after she released me from a particularly nasty headlock she had always used on her younger brother.

Things were progressing rapidly. My chance had come at last! Was this really about to happen. I pulled a condom from under the bed and blew the heavy coat of dust of it. I looked her in the eyes and told her, “I’ve never done this before”.

She got up from the bed and said she didn’t know if she could do this.

I sighed and explained I was really, REALLY ready to get this over with. That I didn’t care if it was “special”. I just didn’t want to be a virgin anymore.

She laid me down and straddled me. I watched my penis disappear inside her. I’d like to say it was amazing.

You’ve warn a condom before, right? Well, I couldn’t feel a thing. But I soldiered on, moving on top of her. Suddenly, she felt amazing. I looked down to find no condom.

Oh my god! Panic ensued. The damned thing had slipped off inside her. I had to fish it out. She was surely pregnant now and my penis was now infested with every disease I could dredge up. None of these were true, but I was scared and now, clearly off of my game. Not that I had any.

I kept trying, for nearly three hours, to cum. I couldn’t. So we showered. I took her home. It wasn’t as awkward as some first times I’m sure, but it was mine, and it was over. I saw and slept with Tara another three times, eventually coming. I had made up my mind though to end it after the last time because I wasn’t interested in anything more than friendship. And I had my eye on the guitar player, also named Tara. But that’s for another post.

Red

Sat, 20 Nov 2010 22:51:00 -0500

The first year away at college wasn’t kind to my libido. Being shy was a curse, no matter what town you ended up in. I did have one brief fling with a girl who ended up staunchly in the “friend-zone”. I wondered just how much more pathetic would my life be before I finally got laid.

I had taken to hanging with a cousin of mine, he frequented a coffee shop in a neighboring town. I didn’t care for coffee at the time, but this shop had artsy girls that would hang out there by the dozen. And so my addiction to Irish Creme coffee developed, along with a few crushes.

It was at this point in my young life that girls started to notice me. I can’t stress enough however, that the girls who fancied me were not nice girls to bring home to mom. If a girl paid any attention to me at all, then she had to be stark raving mad. Usually, that mental state also meant they were extremely horny. The first of several horrendous experiences started right there in that coffee shop when I met Janine.

Janine was a sight to behold. She didn’t realize it at the time, but she was the blueprint for my “type”. I’m not the sort of guy who’s picky, I love women of all shapes, sizes and ethnicities. If I had to choose a favorite however, Janine was the prototype. She had round, full breasts that heaved forth from any top. She was pure cleavage unaided by any support bra, completely natural and amazing. With death pale skin, emerald eyes and an explosion of red hair, her palette was rich with color. Supple hips and shapely legs, she was a statuesque marvel of the female form.

Somehow, this beauty would fall over herself to flirt with me. I couldn’t it out for the life of me. She had to be crazy, there was no other explanation. I remember one summer night on the porch of the cafe, she walked up behind me, covering my eyes with her dainty hands. I could feel her perfect tits pushing against my back. I’m sure the sensation gave me an erection.

We made plans to visit the nature park later that night. I worried that my inexperience would scare her off, or worse yet, she’d laugh at me. If she even touched me, that is.

We were soon underneath the cover of darkness the trees provided. We kissed violently as I began to squeeze her boobs like a kid with a carnival prize. I unbuttoned her pants and dragged my tongue through her red bush, all while she was still upright. I laid her down in the grass and did my best, but I didn’t yet have a clue what to do with a clitoris. I’m sure I couldn’t find it at that point anyway. I was also unprepared on how to deal with the pubic hair. This was before bald cooch was the standard. I licked up and down for a while, it seemed like years.

She pushed me to the grass, unzipped my pants, then pulled my dick through the pee flap of my underwear. Yes, through the pee flap. For the first time ever, my penis was inside a beautiful girls mouth, yet I couldn’t enjoy it because the circulation to my dick was non-existant. Of course, just my luck.

She went on sucking for a while but nothing was going to happen. I couldn’t feel anything. I was far too nervous and shy to say anything. We wrapped it up after noticing that our asses were covered in bug bites. On the ride back to my car, she speculated that she was probably one of several of my ladies. I told her that was the first time I’d received head from anyone. She didn’t believe me. I never saw her again.

Sometimes, while I’m making some other girl cum from going down on her, I think back to Janine, wishing I had another go of it. Maybe I would make her proud of how much I’ve learned. I wonder if she ever thinks about me or if she even remembers that night. It wasn’t anything special to her, but I’ll never forget it.

Finger Bang Bang

Fri, 19 Nov 2010 16:58:00 -0500

I was always afraid of blending love and sex, even at an early age. The two couldn’t possibly be related in my young mind.

At 17, I was a boy in every sense of the word, having only had two awkward kisses. I masturbated at least three times a day. My sex drive was a burden. I guess there were a few different girls I might’ve tried losing my cherry inside of, but it would have come with a price. You see, I was leaving the state for college, and the thought of being tied to any of those backwoods hicks was unbearable. The promise of a fantasy playground filled with pussy was all I could think about. College was nothing like that of course, but I didn’t know it at the time.

Along came Jenny. Not her real name of course, no innocents will be harmed in writing this blog, ever. Jenny was a pretty girl, with a Native American look to her. Her body was firm, yet supple. As inexperienced as I was, I could tell that she was very sexual. Hints were dropped often. She would make every effort to touch me in some small and innocent way. However, by school standards, she was a skank. She didn’t have money for fancy clothes and was a bit trashy at times.

I didn’t mind, not in the least. One night while working a shift together at the pizza place, we decided to go watch cars drive by on the interstate. These are things you do in rural America on a Tuesday night. Only she had no intention of car gazing.

After a paragraph or two of forgotten conversation, her tongue was in my mouth, treating me to my first make out session ever. I was beyond excited, also terrified.

She took my hand and wiggled it into her pants, sifting through the fabric and sliding under her panties to a warm wet spot. In that place I found my downfall. This moment of exhilaration would trap me forever.

It was not easy to maneuver. For whatever reason, she didn’t even unbutton her jeans. Regardless, I soldiered on, duplicating the moves I’d read about hundreds of times in Cosmo. I don’t think it made much of an impact. I dropped her off. I could smell her on my fingers.

We didn’t fool around after that. It seemed strange and lonely to see her afterward. Several years went by and now we’re friends on facebook. I look at her pictures and think, “That was the first vagina I ever touched.”

I want to tell her thank you.

Porno Thrill

Fri, 03 Sep 2010 00:40:00 -0400

Once the sight of bush was burned into my brain, I would never be able to turn it off. Every moment of my adolescent days were spent chasing that womanly mystery. It was as if a whole new set of senses were turned on. If my mom was asleep then I was trying to get another look at the stack of Hustler’s in the closet.

It was there that I became addicted to the thrill of perversion. It’s shaped my life ever since, for better or worse. I remember one day where I spent a good thirty minutes flipping through the porno mag before mom’s car pulled into the driveway. My heart was beating feverishly as I reset the closet and attempted to cover my boner.

Soon after I began to notice the sounds of moans through the walls at night. I was supposedly long asleep, but instead I was peeping around the corner getting an eyeful of early 80’s betamax porn. I was clueless as to what was going on but it looked like they were having a good time in the movie.

After a basketball game at school I noticed some of the other boys huddled around a pine tree. It seems as if someone had thrown out a perfectly good nudie mag right in front of an elementary school. Looking back now this seems like a heinous act of perversion. I tried to get my turn flipping through it but I was the odd man out. The biggest kid got to take it home.

The search for my own porn continued.

Initial Perversion

Thu, 02 Sep 2010 16:21:00 -0400

I remember that first peek in vivid color. Standing on a suitcase in my father’s closet, I could just see the edge of the Hustler poking out. The page corner revealed the inside of a woman’s thighs to me for the first time. I was 10 years old.

That day I was dreaming of the G.I. Joe figures I’d get for my birthday in a few weeks, that night I was wondering what I’d awoken between my legs. From that day forward, all I’ve ever thought about was sex. I have a dick for a brain.

I’m nearing the end of my sexual prime. I’m writing down my every raunchy escapade here for two reasons. For one, I don’t want to forget these encounters when I’m old and my cock is defeated. And secondly, I’ve slept with a lot of women at this point, I don’t want to forget any of them.