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My ex-girlfriend once asked what it was like to feel like a cumsponge.
I said, "Why would I know the answer to that?"
She said, "I don't know. Your brain is this receptacle of arcane and obscure knowledge."
I pressed the point, saying, "That's as maybe. But you're assuming that a) a cumsponge is something I would discuss, and b) a cumsponge is something that can talk and therefore be discussed with."
She looked at me out the side of her face, which is something she always did when was feeling slighted. Or slutty.
"Look, asshole. It was just a question. I'm not suggesting that you have some unholy fascination with cumsponges."
She shifted a little. When she looked at me out of the side of her face, she hadn't been feeling slutty. I mean, I was fucking her, but that was before she gave me the look. But she had given me the look then, too. Fuck, I was confused.
"Wait," I said. "I'm confused."
She rolled her eyes. "Jesus, let's just pull the fucking thing out of me and see what it feels like."
So she reached inside her cooter, pulled out the cumsponge and stuck it in my palm. I gave it a squeeze. Warm. Sticky. But not entirely unpleasant.
"It feels like a cumsponge."
There you have it.
Date Written: October 05, 2004
Author: The Rid
Average Vote: 4.125