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George Julius Julius

I did sex with someone once.

You don't believe me?

No, I really did make sex with a guy.

His name? You want to know his name?

It's George... Julius. George Julius Julius.

Yes he's real!

You're fucking stupid, he's as real as the sex we did together.

How did it happen?

Well I was reading the free newspaper, trying to make sense of my horoscope. I'm an Aquarius but I'm on the Pisces cusp. So I have to read both of them together before I can extract any sensible information. I guess I was talking to myself pretty loud. I usually talk to myself but it's usually very quietly and people usually just become uncomfortable enough to leave me alone. But I see this guy just staring at me. The way old porcelain dolls do. With dead but sexy eyes. That vacant stare that lifeless dolls give off is nothing more than cock lust. The dolls don't know it, but I do. Little rosy-cheeked sluts.

But this guy, George Julius, he wasn't after the cock. No, he was after something else. He walked right up to me and we started a conversation.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes... I think so. You don't think so?"

"You were talking to yourself."

"This is America. I can talk to myself at my leisure."

"You don't have any pants on."

"I already told you this was America."

He stopped talking and drank me in with coal-black eyes. Eyes like a matte trash bag rotting in the sun. He licked his lips. Lips like two enticing slugs cracked and swollen with possible sores along their border. Lips of passion.

His gut rose and fell with each careful labored breath. At 5'4 and 230 pounds, one couldn't deny the sexual appeal of George Julius Julius. The man was a living embodiment of the pleasures bound to fornication.

My heart was racing. It was probably the 8-ball my nose ate for breakfast. But it might have also been the fact that George Julius Julius was beginning to get his dick hard. Maybe it was the porno still playing on his phone. But I'm pretty sure it was me. It's hard to resist a girl with a rattail in a 3 wolf moon shirt, wearing sweatpants casually stained with "ice cream" and marinara.

He took both of my hands and held them in his clammy palms while asked me how old I was. I asked him how old he wanted me to be. He said 13. It just so happens I have a condition that allows me to look prepubescent despite my middle age. So I lied and said 12. His dick nearly busted a cheap stitch.


And then we made sex. Right there in the park. Despite the protests of onlookers, I slammed my naked body into his. I slammed it against him till he passed out from pleasure. His dick was soft and somewhat bruised.  His utter delight was undoubtedly expressed in his comatose silence. I did such good sex to him that the paramedics arrived right as I was peeling myself off of him. I think he came blood.

Hey... listen, not everybody can be a Sex Goddess. But I'm not everybody. So don't feel bad about it.

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