Your drunk lesbianism never made any sense to me. Granted, drinking on the whole isn’t something that’s ever made much sense to me, but even still, how the fuck is there a gender you only want to fuck when you’ve had a half-dozen or more cocktails? Not even the dumbest fucking gender-fluid weirdo on Tumblr could come up with that.
Many, many men and women lower their standards when they drink, but yours are strangely elevated. Your mind must be filled with a good amount of toxins to appreciate the fairer sex. It’s not even that you’re a “barsexual.” Those are just exhibitionist sluts who use liquor to drown the handful of inhibitions they have left, as we all know. You, on the other hand, literally seduced a straight woman at a party we were both at.
Remember? You never talked a lot about it, but I never figured out if that’s because it was all a haze or you were just uncomfortable about it.
She was hot, and I appreciated it and all, but like, what the fuck were you thinking?
For the record, her feelings about my presence were clearly mixed.
It was fucking hot eating her out while watching you suck on her tits. That’s a memory I’ll have forever. Make of this what you will, but it’s probably the least hardcore of my vivid recollections of us fucking.
For all installments from Letters from a Heartbroken Pervert, click here.
- I Can’t Draw
Nameless Writer is the author of Letters from a Heartbroken Pervert.