Horny Rant

Fuck.

I’m fucking horny lately.

Not just now and then. Everyday – I’m horny. I am a walking hard-on.

I want to fuck someone or something. My spouse. A sex toy. The pile of laundry on my basement floor. The torn seam in my couch cushion. I want to stick my cock into something warm and wet. I’m even looking twice at my oatmeal in the morning.

I want to fuck a female. Strike that. I want to fuck multiple females. Almost every female. I want to fuck at least 40% of the real females that I encounter in a day, plus all of the media females. From the Walmart checkout girl to Angelina and Jen and Sienna. I’m horny and I want to fuck them. Roughly. Repeatedly. Right now.

I want to fuck the female news readers that I catch on TV in the morning as I’m dressing. Any channel, doesn’t matter. Bend over the anchor desk, now. Hike up that skirt. We’re getting to it.

I want to fuck all of the women looking back at me from the magazines in the gas station where I get my donuts. Stuff, Maxim, FHM, Cosmo, Shape, Car and Driver. Hell even Ladies Home Journal. I like your smiles, ladies. Let’s fuck.

I want to fuck Rachel Ray, in the kitchen bent over the cutting board pushing against that scrumptious ass, 1n 30 minutes for $40. I’m horny.

I want to use my fingers, my tongue, my cock. I want to eat pussy until my jaws ache.

I want to fuck the girls in my office, with their spectacularly packaged cleavage. I want to remove those tops and fuck their sqeezed together tits and give them each a pearl necklace.

I want to fuck the cute blonde girl that I saw only in the side mirror of her beat-up pickup truck in the drive-through. That was enough. I want to fuck her from behind with my nose buried in that fine blonde hair. I want to declothe her, none to gently. To pull down her jeans. To feel the heat through her panties. To taste her wetness. To stroke the curve of her derriere, to memorize it with my fingertips before I spank her soundly with my bare hand.

I want to fuck the mousy little girl cashier in the cafeteria with the pony tail and the small frame. I want to kiss her for an hour, and then fuck her mouth while I hold her pony tail, and then pick her up in my arms and fuck her standing up. Face to face. Slamming into her while she frantically holds on to me.

Fuck I’m horny.

I want to fuck the boyish girl with no makeup who runs a machine in the factory that I walk into. Brokeback style, in the ass, while I’m pinching her small nipples.

It goes without saying that I want to fuck almost every stripper that I’ve ever met. On the stage. Hanging onto the pole. Or two at a time, in the VIP.

I want to fuck all of the female singers on “American Idol”, and Paula. Plus the female dancers on “Dancing with the Stars”. Not to mention Jaime Pressley on “My Name is Earl”. Anyway she wants it.

I want to fuck the young waitress at the internet café with wifi access. In the bathroom stall. Right after I’ve fucked the cute geeky girl across from me buried in her laptop, too. Let’s close up these laptops and fuck. Now. Right here on these tables.

Mostly, I want to fuck all of the interesting females out in blogland. All who I read. All who have written to me, or especially who have sent pics. Beautiful pics. Sexy pics. I think about you. I fantasize about you. I lust for you. I want to climb through the wire and fuck you, wherever you are.

Basically, I’m horny. If you’re a halfway attractive female and I’ve seen you, or talked to you, or bumped into you in any way in the last couple of weeks – I’ve wanted to fuck you.

And most of all, I want to fuck my wife. Without notice. Into the mattress. Until she’s muttering incoherently. And I’m spent. And I can think about something other than the urgent need in my loins. I need to make that happen again. Very soon.