Between the Ears


I think I have two minds: one reflexive, one romantic. Some people call them instinct and conscience. Whatever. The challenge is to keep them in balance. Too much instinct leads to recklessness. Too much conscience leads to paranoia and stagnation.

Here’s how the two minds teeter-tottered last night as a sexy woman approached me.

“Wow, she’s cute.”

“Is she coming over to talk to me?”

“I wonder what her nipples look like–big, juicy eraser tips. Yum!”

“Holy shit! Shit is coming over to me. Hm. Maybe I have something on my face.”

“She has real tits. Thank God! I want to touch one. Natural boobs are such rare finds these days.”

“How kind of her. She complimented my shirt. She seems sweet.”

“I picture her face down on my bed, squealing in ecstasy while I bang away. Ah, the sound of my balls slapping against her clit.”

“Boy, I hope she’s not looking to have children. I can see myself hanging out with her.”

“Oh, that’s a delicious ass right there. I’m definitely going to hit that. In fact, I may sleep on it.”

“She’s a single mom with a great job. Intelligence is such a turn-on.”

“When she finds out I’m fixed, she’ll want to mount me in the parking lot.”

“There’s no wedding ring. Oh, the possibilities!”

“She just touched my thigh. My cock is twitching. She’ll probably want to play ‘Just the Tip.’ Nah, she’ll beg me to be balls deep.”

“Now, how do I go about extracting her number? I wish I could get over this shyness.”

“Cum dripping off her chin. No, wait … sprayed all up and down her back, running down her butt cheeks. I haven’t made shower babies lately, so I should have a heavy coat stored up.”

“She likes movies. That’s awesome. Maybe on date three we could curl up with a nice bottle of wine and watch a romantic comedy marathon.”

“She’s an ultra-orgasmic squealer. I bet she squirts like the fountains of Bellagio.”

“I love that perfume she’s wearing.”

“Tomorrow I’ll be gently awakened by her using my manhood as a pacifier. Morning sex is my favorite.”

“Yes, she gave me her number. I wonder if she’s ‘the one.’ I’ll play it cool and wait twenty-four hours to call.”

“I’m going to fuck her in her bathtub tonight. We’ll get so crazy that the bathroom will resemble a sudsy rainforest. I can’t wait to soap up her ass.”

“I feel tummy butterflies. This is awesome. I don’t want to seem too forward, though. She’ll see it as desperation. Gosh, I really do like this woman. I could talk to her for hours.”

“I bet she’s freaky. She’ll want to invite other women into bed. She must have a shaven monkey with puffy lips. She probably tastes like cherry cordial juice. Yum!”

All for naught. I got her number and a gentle goodnight peck after I courteously walked her to her car. She left without wearing a single drop of my semen.

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About the author

Author of humorous essays about relationships and lifestyles.