leave zoo sex to the french

Tuesday begins, guest posts!
The first in this series by a male friend, a self-proclaimed, lovable-scumbag.
...........................................................................................................................

At the peak of my pussy-pursuing days, online dating sites were my number one source of guilt-free sex. For every ten messages I’d send out there would be at least three or four replies to work with. Pretty good odds if you ask me. Not only that, but every so often I’d get an unprompted message, which would of course do tremendous things to my (already inflated) ego.

The number of women I’ve bedded through my online conquests remains unknown to me; although I'm sure I have a list somewhere.

Let's begin.

I’m not the biggest animal lover in the world.
My love for creatures can be summed up to simply, cats, turtles and hamsters.
That’s it.

I especially hate dogs.
HATE DOGS.

I especially hate little dachshunds.
Little dachshunds whom you insist should stay in the room while we’re trying to get it on.
Yup, you insist on leaving it the room while I’m trying to go down on you.
You want to know why I hate this? Sometimes, it invites itself in on the (oral) fun.

You know what makes it worse? What I especially hate?
I hate that you let it happen.
You say, "Oh it's ok, I let him do that sometimes"
Fucking really?

Threesomes are cool.
Threesomes with your hot dog are not.