First things first, I promise I'm not a middle-aged man who perves on young girls and I'm not some creepy woman who drools over Fabio on book jackets. I'm an early 'twenty-something' hot-blooded female that loves beautiful men! I love looking at them, talking to them, and a lot of the times imagining what it would be like to sleep with them. I'm not afraid of sex; stigma isn't really in my vocabulary, but I definitely do not have sex with just anyone. I just (hypothetically) fuck a lot of the hot guys I see.
Until recently I wasn't so bold. I didn't look at a guy and imagine what it would be like to bang him until I was about 22. Maybe I was too bashful even in my mind, or maybe I just didn't have good sex yet, but one day, unbeknownst to myself, I became a (hypothetical) sex machine!!
The first time I decided to jump outside my comfort zone I said it aloud. At a casual Philadelphia house party, talking to a super-attractive aging hipster and swigging back confidence masked as Sailor Jerry's, when drunkenly asked, "What are you thinking?" I played it cool, coyly giggling and saying, "No.. I can't tell you.." which really meant please beg me to. After the quick reprieve I uttered, "That I'd fuck you to death."
I'm pretty sure he wasn't expecting it, but as soon as I let the phrase sloppily fall off the tip of my tongue he was a goner, especially when I didn't even let him go near my pants. I know most people may think that was cold, and certainly unfair to the double-denim wearing mustached man, but it opened up the world of hypothetical sex to my previously prudent mind!
So there you have it folks, one case of blue balls down and a million hypothetical fucks to go!
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