My Application to Be Your Next One Night Stand

Hello. How are you.

My name is Ken. And I’d like to be your next one night stand.

Now, I know what you’re probably thinking. “I don’t go for those kind of cheap thrills, buddy.” And perhaps you don’t. But whether you’re in the market for a one n9ight stand or have never even contemplated the idea before, I believe I have something to offer you.

Now I’m not selling anything you can’t get anywhere else. I’m sure you know plenty of guys who can work you up just fine then hit the highway before you even have time to say, “Where did you put the key to the harness?” So I’d like to spend this time with you focusing briefly on my key attributes, and what I consider to be some distinctive competitive differentiators.

First, I travel. A lot. Most of it is business, some of it pleasure (or eating up free airplane miles). But the point is, although my home base is on the east coast, there’s a good chance I’ll be visiting your neck of the woods (and, hopefully, your pants) sometime in the near future. The next day, I’m up and on a plane and out of your life. And let’s face it; the farther away, the better. Unless you’re the kind of woman who enjoys awkward “hey, isn’t that the guy who ate my ass for three solid hours” encounters at the local donut shop.

Second, I understand that your time is valuable. This is important. As the professional dispenser of one night stands, I know what you’re here for. It’s all business, all the time. So I won’t try to worm my way into your life the next day. No “hey, want to take in a movie” or “can I make you some coffee” or “do you want me to stick around a while to see if that thong of yours that I ingested eventually comes out?” Like Bob Seger, I’m up with the sun, gone with the wind.

Next, I eat pussy like a champ. Like I’m a death row inmate and you are my last meal. Like a ravenous vampire attacking a Vegas buffet. Hell, I don’t even know what that last example means, but suffice it to say, I will not be happy unless you park your ass on my face for at least three hours. Breathing? Fuck that noise, I’m there to pleasure you. So unzip the jeans, drop the panties and straddle my face like it’s last call on the county fair tilt-a-whirl. I may not be the best you ever had down there, but I will certainly rank among the most eager to please.

Last, I ask no questions. Whether you’re married or on the lam or wanted for illegal relations with a kangaroo is irrelevant. All that I need to know is you need a serious dose of nerdy blogger in your life.

I hope I do not come off as too crass or too eager. But if you’ve got the time and the desire, I’ve got the plane ticket and robot-like jaw.

You know where to reach me, ladies.

1 Comment

  1. Suzyn

    June 14, 2012 at 2:29 pm

    Sign me up. You ever get to Chicago?

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