WHAM, BAM, Thank Ya SLAM
I just had fantastic sex. The hot sweaty slap-me-harder kind of sex that Paris Hilton would only BE so lucky to have.
The only trouble is that this great fuck was my boyfriend, and now I wish I could gracefully wash my face, kiss him on the cheek, and walk out the door before he remembers to ask for my phone number.
I don’t want to cuddle with my boyfriend on the couch while the dogs wrestle to get in between us and BF tries to sweet talk me into fetching him a beer but I’m too busy trying to discreetly release a fart.
