"You like sucking it, bitch?”
Let it be known that I am a strong advocate to the benefits of responsible alcohol use. So much so that if there was ever another prohibition on it, I'd be the first to offer bootleg moonshine out of my basement.
That being said, I am not an example of responsibility. That colorful spectrum of what is responsible and what isn't is something I must have selective color blindness for. It is much easier accepting a fault in the making of my eyes as opposed to a fault in my judgment. Now, there are many things I could blame what's happening right now on. Many, many things.
"Mm," I muffle, my mouth full. I mean to continue with, "Does it look like I'm capable of holding a conversation when I'm in the middle of deepthroating you?" but what comes out instead is, "Mmm mm mmm."
We could blame my mother. That's always an option, no matter what the situation. Out of creamer and sugar for coffee? Damn you, mother! On my knees for a man that doesn't even know my last name and is incapable of saying the word cock? Damn you again, mother!