I Miss My Girlfriend’s Pussy

June 10, 2012 at 10:10 am (Sweet sticky things)

Oh yeah, let the search engines make sweet, sweet love to this blogpost title.

Meg went to visit The Marshal for a couple days. (I got a laugh from Dr T when I said she’d “gone to see the sheriff, which my parents used as a euphemism for going to the bathroom.”) While this is nothing new, there is a new consideration when she leaves town:

Sugar.

Sugar’s name was Lena, then Whitesox. (Meg got tired of me calling her “Cubs!” She did laugh once when I was giving her boobs a good grope and I hollered at the cat, “Hey Whitesox? Second base!”) I am always calling Meg “Sugar” and “Hon” and all those pet names better suited coming from the mouth of a Southern waitress, so when the name Sugar stuck, I told Meg, “But… I call YOU Sugar…”

Pussy Close-Up

“It’s okay. We’ll both answer!”

When I found out Bob Mould had a band called Sugar, it made more sense. Meg, a devout fan, said “I hadn’t thought of that.”

Of course, there was no end to the pussy jokes. (Actually, they’re starting to trickle now.) At first Meg rolled her eyes, then started outdoing me. Calling me at work, “I’m sitting here watching COPS and playing with my pussy,” or “My pussy is rubbing herself all over your pillow right now…”

My favorite? When the cigarette reps were giving out coupons for $1 packs of cigarettes, I called her and in front of everyone said into the phone, “Hey! Do you think you can stop playing with your pussy long enough to come get some cigarettes?”

Sigh. So many pussy jokes…

Meg is supposed to be back today or tomorrow. I was going to take care of Sugar, but Meg is cutting her visit short, she says. I love when she visits The Marshal. He treats her like shit, berates her, then she comes home to me and I start the rebuilding of her self-esteem.

I start by telling her how much I love playing with her pussy.

1 Comment

  1. BangFinger said,

    Tuna?

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