Recently, much to my baffled pleasure, i came across myself perched on an automatic washer being energetically fingered with a male that is human.
Well! This was an appealing (and enthusiastically consented-to) situation, maybe maybe not minimum of most because
- I’m a lesbian (okay, ok, IвЂ™m bisexual, but as my hilarious and gorgeous freshman roomie states, вЂњReina. Guys will likely not make an effort to have intercourse with you when they read you calling yourself a lesbian in print.вЂќ To which we state: The ones that are creepy!), and
- I happened to be on an automatic washer.
Much more interesting: this specific male that is human read a bit of mine on intimate ethics, hookup culture, and vulnerability, in which he had some questions.
Specifically: Why in the world could you speak with a chick you fucked the early morning after? Does not this just make shit more awkward for everyone?
I think that my pussy is really a diplomat, distributing feminism wherever she goes. Properly, and hands being duly removed from my vagina, we assumed our roles round the dryer/campfire. Sharing time!