When i was eight my dad would bring me to a movie store, i was always curious about that back door, i didn’t know it was where they stored the ****, girls plastered on their backs and worn by men like casual dress their mouths all open in silent ****** and yet bets are they’ve never gotten that far and tonight i wonder where these screaming lick lipping girls are because I’ve never had one in me. And i think maybe most girls don’t because only men know that back door, that back entrance, where all the women love them on command, and real girls exist only as a figment of their imagination. When women’s pleasure is locked discreetly away you have to wonder whether men will ever taste chapped lips, touch fleshy hips, and love the bliss of a body on a body not a lifeless video hobby.