As I’d spent the whole of last weekend in the spirit of Halloween I got to thinking about dressing up and role play. It’s definitely fun to put on a uniform, fake accent and f*ck as someone else for a night. As a teenager I think I shagged more guys dressed as a school boy than I did in my normal clothes. It was my thing. You know how Tyra Banks has vagina-pits, I had slutty hot pants and a striped tie.
So, low and behold, here I am (Byker Grove eat your heart out) – getting it on with a totes hot guy after our first date (I know, cardinal rule broken). The first turn off was the cringe-worthy dialogue. He wanted me to plea, yelp and beg – “Yes Sir! Yes Sir!” – NOT happening, I may have arrived in batty riders and knee high socks but I have got some dignity!! I don’t even like panting in sex, let alone pantomime!
It gets worse…
I recieve a text message (after our first encounter) asking ever so politely if i’d urinate on the dirty pig. Naturally I retracted like a hooker to confession. So he wants to get kinky and he knows I like uniform/roleplay, so he makes a proposal…
While dressed as a school boy I had to make him shoot his load in ONE minute or else face a forfeit. LATER! I couldn’t even make myself come in sixty seconds, let alone some golden shower gimp! What happened to foreplay?!
The forfeit being that he’d get to pour custard down my slutty school pants if I failed. BIBLE! As if he actually picked the LEAST sexy food possible. Could’ve been chocolate sauce? Could’ve been whipped cream? Could’ve EVEN been a fucking protein shake, but nope. Smelly, stinky dinner lady gruel. I didn’t even like custard to eat let alone for my pylorix to lap it all up.
I didn’t know which was worse; pissing all over this degraded bitch or making an apple crumble out of my own arse. Rest assured, I did neither. I mean C’mon – “let’s not put the DUH in DUMB” – Whitney, Bring it On