angry, blue collar fucks

What stands between a woman and the mythical good ol' fuck? I'm talking the kind of nasty, butt hole licking stranger sex that seem to be the stuff of fairy tales nowadays. Well, I think it's herpes. Some might contend that it's the fervent neo-con battle to bring this nation back to the puritanical days when people like John Kellogg was creating corn flakes as part of a bland diet to counteract sexual desire (totally true story.. this is why I only eat high fiber Kashi products). But I still say it's herpes.

Just the other day I was on the J train, and there was this utterly divine piece of ass enjoying the view that I was providing (curves, curves, and more curves). I mean, he was yummtacular... covered in tattoos, cute face, had definitely done some jail time. Sure I thought about it. I'm sorry, but there is nothing like an angry blue collar fuck. But then the herpes started to sneak between me and our fantasy fun time.

Just yesterday I was talking to an acquaintance, and the subject of the herp came up. She didn't know that you can contract herpes (and, yes, HPV, which is part of the herpes family) even when being a very responsible condom user (such as moi-self). A rubber can stand between me and gonorrhea, syphilis, chlamydia, even HIV, but I'm defenseless against the skin-to-skin risk of herpes.

So, it comes right down to be discriminating. It comes right down to not giving into my every vaginal whim. And this is, admittedly, sucky and difficult. But *sigh* I do it.

No dick for me. No dick for you. What the hell am I supposed to screw?

x( . )( . )x,
v