What He's Really Thinking About During Sex

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man thinking sex woman
Ever wonder what a man's internal monologue sounds like while getting it on? Well, wonder no more.

Where are the condoms? Why, not strategically positioned under my pillow, because I would never expect you to have actually come home with me after the fourth date. So allow me to briefly look around … oh, here they are! Open condom, pinch reciprocal end, slide on to Atlas Thunderbeef. I hate condoms, wearing them is like trying to eat a meal with a mouthful of trash bag. But at least we are now protected from that dreadful STD, babyitis. Get ready, hot sauce, because—did she just push me down? Growl. Good, because I’m tired, I had to walk to two whole stores before I found the cheapest possible candles. She’s going to ride me like a mechanical bull.
Holy gosh. She’s like a rainforest. And she feels so freakin’ good. Stop making air guitar faces. Grab her ass. Put her nipple in your mouth, but not in a transparently Freudian way. Squeak, bedsprings, squeak! That’ll show that scowling old lady next door that I DO know women! Oh she’s a moaner. Her hair is in my mouth, but I kind of like the taste of her shampoo. Yes. This is a rhythm you can dance too. She just told me to f**k her harder. Done and done! I’m doing it! Now say something. Something dirty, something hot, something that will make her coo and scream and tear me apart. Say something!

Did I just say "Ya bebe, thass goo!”? ARGH! Grunt. Grunt like a lumberjack wrestling a moose or a Viking taking a dump. Grunt like the wind! Dude, she really feels amazing. What a fantastic grip. I’m going to come. You can’t come. I’m going to come. Think of something not sexy! War crimes! Baseball statistics! I don’t know any baseball statistics! Green Lantern! Secretary of Homeland Security Janet Napolitano – I’m going to come! DUDE WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? Slide her off you! Oh she likes that … She’s on her back. Git r done! Be gentle, I’m in control. Not in control! Now THAT felt really good.

Condom broke! Pull out. Almost … too late. Where does a gentleman ejaculate? Her breasts? Need permission. Same with face! Belly! To the left, man! To the left! Dizzy. Wrung. Giggly. This is no time to go wobbly. Must … be … polite. Tell her she’s the best. Because, frankly, she is. But in a way, aren’t they all, just a tiny bit? Collect your marbles and prepare to return the favor. She is insanely wet, so good on me. Spell out the ABC’s with your tongue in the general direction of her clitoris. She’s probably wise to the ABC trick. Spell something else out. Lando Calrissian. Spell out the space mack daddy of Cloud City’s name. Spell it out again. And again. Again. And again. I hope the neighbors don’t think I’m murdering someone. She’s possessed! Thrashing! 8.9 on the Richter scale! Game over!

Panting is a positive sign. She’s grinning. Shy. Trembling. So am I. I need a shower. Clamber up to her. Hold her. Nuzzle. Awesome.

Look her in the eyes. They’re brighter than the candle.

Yeah, she really is that beautiful isn’t she?

Zzzzzzzzzz.

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This article was originally published at . Reprinted with permission.
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