My girlfriend and I enjoy freaky sex. We enjoy that freaky sex on our own terms. We decide what, when, and where, and if we ever decide we want to include someone else, we will decide that also. When we walked into a sex shop to get freaky in a booth, that is exactly what we intended to do. So Mr. Douchebag who thinks he's a pimp, you're a real piece of crap. As soon as you saw my girl in those tight shorts and see-through shirt, you started texting and following us with your camera phone. As we were getting it on, several people tried to get in the door. I was hoping it was a fluke, but after the dirty deed was done and I opened the door, I FOUND YOU LEANING NEXT TO THE DOOR WITH ABOUT SEVEN MEN BEHIND YOU WITH EYES BULGING WAITING THEIR TURN. That's my girlfriend, ASSHOLE! Not a whore for you to sell tickets to fuck! Next time we come in, I'm going to let you in the booth, and you better be ready for some action, because I'm gonna get her a huge strap-on dildo and a bottle of lube mixed with sand.—Anonymous
The Freaky, Sandy Bottom
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