Sometimes I’m not in the mood

Sometimes I’m not in the mood. Sometimes I don’t want to. But because I’m the best freaking girlfriend in the world, I spread my legs open so that my loving, ever-horny boyfriend can fuck me and satisfy his needs.  Although I totally feel like a cum-dumpster, he is so happy afterwards, and sweet and gentle and loving (and clingy and unbearable and just plain lame!), that I feel like I have done my good deed for the world. I mean, it’s all about giving and not about receiving, right? Which is weird, because I did all the receiving in this deed, if you know what I mean.

Now, don’t get me wrong. My sex life is super healthy. We fuck/make love/have sex at least six times a week, often more than once in the same day. And it’s amazing. And fun. And it keeps us alive. I mean, sex is healthy. But sometimes, I’m just not in the fucking mood – pun intended.

And when I’m not in the mood, but am still magnanimous and giving (or receiving, whatever), I spread my legs open and I want him to just give me a quickie. Come in, come out, cum in. Period. But no – the jackass doesn’t want a quickie. The fucker wants to make love. He wants to make love precisely when I have no fucking intentions – pun intended. (I guess that, if I have to explain my puns and say whether or not they are intended, they are not such good puns, right?) He wants to caress me – and his touch makes me feel itchy. He wants to kiss me – and his tongue feels pringly and tastes like pickles. He wants to look at me – and his glare makes me feel self-counscious. He wants to excite me – and his intentions make me laugh.

I know. Super sexy, right?

So I tell him, “Just fuck me already!” And his feelings are hurt. Fucking lame-ass pussy.

So I tell him, “Please, just cum already!” And he gets pissy and is no longer in the mood. Great, right? Wrong. After a few seconds he feels horny again and mounts me again. OK… I’m super-GF, remember? So we missionary-style-it, but he wants to saucy-spoon me, and then he wants to doggie-style-me and then he wants to put my legs way up in the air and – DUDE. That hurts. I am no fucking gymnast, ok? Put my legs down. Then he missionary-styles-me again and kisses me. Tastes like onion (fucking mexican food). Then he says he loves me, and starts saying sweet-pseudo-dirty stuff. He asks if I want to be on top. I say no. He asks why not. I say, “Uh, because.” By this time, my magnanimousness and my pussy are almost dried out.

He finally gets it. And cums.

Sometimes I’m not in the mood. But relationships are all about sacrifices. Right?