Always informal contracts that people have found me worrying about: «If the thirty-five I have no boyfriend, you give me a little bit of semen». Thus, as who asks sal to the neighbor. Two “friends” that at any given time (sober?) sign a pact that says that if a certain age there is nothing to scratch, positively part will help the fecundable part. Funny, isn’t it? Not really. It’s not. There will be no sex! Or at least I think she.
He maintained hopes until she enters the room and finds it in shorts and socks of rackets. Actually this Covenant consists of a woman who seizes package (never better said) to your favorite friend zone and requests (please) that lend him a little milk to make the dessert of his life. He laughs because (repeat) he thinks that he will have sex but it is a mistake, she does not consider it. Only has chosen him as official supplier of sperm by the good vibes that have, but above all, because you know you have musical rhythm, pelazo and for the moment, all well positioned teeth. And above all else, because no other dripping would accept.
He is the best of the worst options
Ladies. Lords. Senoris. Friends of your friends: This is a drama. And not because they will not fuck. It is a very cruel game. A friend does not say that not because she thinks it means him no effort do this favor (sexo-sexo – sex). She while looking him in the eyes and think: «I have nothing with you, neither had nor will have nor would have it and would advise anyone that had it not it endorse it but I want your seed of love».
Agree things okay but always but friends, this is very serious. I imagine whenever the story is thus: you are 35 and your colleague calls you to congratulate you (and to see when you stay for a coffee and what comes up) and you face don’t forget tell you: well… we were in my house and then you see?
Friendship is this: squeeze it and give everything to the other
Get in the door with a bag and a smile from ear to ear. Are you ready?, you ask. He answers you with a nice erection. And you look at him the package as those who look at the most beautiful basket of Prenatal. He calls the elevator wondering if it will be in the elevator, in the car or in a hotel and looks up at the ceiling asking be wherever but make it longer. You give him a hug (noticing joy) and say thank you with bright eyes. «It is cachondisima», thinks it.
Thirty-five years. The great moment of your life revolves around a pot of empty plastic and a cold room full of 90s fingering Novosti. A waiting room and much, much despair. There is something that can unite over two people and that separate them both at the same time? Is there something that gives less laziness that fuck with your mind? Are there any kleenex surplus? One thing is clear, that the poor has earned that they make him a spoon then there is no doubt.