“Shhh. Be vewy, vewy, quiet. It’s woman season. I’m woman huntin’.” – Elmer Fudd (kind of) or the lead singer of Kix
My answer to this often-asked question is, “It depends.” There are many factors that come into play, including how old (and tired of chasing) the man is, and how long it’s been since his last meal. It also depends on the hunted. How attractive, drunk, and willing is she? Is she a friend? Friend of a friend? Married? There are so many factors, I’m considering creating an Excel pivot table to assist with my calculations.
I’ve been “oh-for-spring,” so you can rest assured that if you toss your vag my way, I’ll bite … or nibble. I’m also willing to have Segway love—lots of fun, until one of my friends sees me, takes a picture, and posts it. You see, when a man is all backed up, he needs to let out some poison, or he’s going to do something silly and expensive.
Now, the friend thing can complicate matters. If you cross the friend barrier and bump nasties, the relationship is going to change. Before the sex towel comes out, some level of regret will rear its ugly behind. The only way to combat this is to get blackout drunk and run to a taxi cab within one minute of the orgasm. What happens after five shots of tequila is anyone’s guess.
After you sleep with your pal, where do you go? If the sex was mutually good, do you keep on tapping the sex keg? What happens when one of you starts dating someone new? Keep fucking? Yikes! What if the sex kind of sucked? If it sucked for both, you can laugh, and part amicably. If it sucked for one and was great for the other, well, that’s a conundrum. For most men, disappointing sex is way better than no sex. For women, disappointing sex is traumatic, often resulting in disclosing his ineptitude to numerous friends, and a Netflix series marathon with two bottles of wine, and something salty.
I’m sure there are readers out there who say, “Come on, Phil. Women don’t go tossing their va-heenas around like rose petals.” Some do, my dears. Some even do it for free. I’ve been the fortuitous, yet gracious recipient.
I must admit that my first reaction to oncoming labia is skepticism.
“No strings attached? Baloney. What’s the catch?”
“No catch. I just want to fuck you.”
“Why do you care what my reason is? Do you want to get laid or not?”
“Nobody rides for free. I remember that from the seventies. ‘Ass, grass, or gas,’ or something. Fuck, if I know. You’re not going to whip it in, wipe it off, and walk away. You’ll probably stab me in the neck with a wine key.”
“Where do you come up with this stuff? Christ. Look, just take me home, and let’s get it on, Marvin. Or are you gay?”
“Ah, the ‘gay’ challenge. I concede. Take me to your master, woman.”
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