Wicked Wednesday: Fear of a good woman.

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Some women, they are only fit for fetching the tea.

You know the type.

Plain.

Boring.

Timid.

Meek and mild.

Wear flats to work.

Would make excellent mothers.

Keepers…..

Other women, they are special.

Look at my 5 inch heels little man, get in your knees and lick them!

Yes ma’am!

They are loud.

Fiery.

Wild and have balls.

(Your balls in a death grip).

They mean business.

They will be the death of you and you know it.

This kind of woman does not make the tea.

Actually it’s the men  that bring her coffee.

To ingratiate themselves to her.

You beat your chest and stomp about to impress her.

To get a reaction and get noticed.

We are simple creatures!

Real men want a Real women.

A woman that makes you work to earn her affections.

The kind of women that you fear.

A woman with a temper.

With a wrath.

The kind of woman you can worship.

A Goddess amongst mortals.

A woman that makes your blood boil and your cock harden.

I suppose you could have a meek woman.

The tea girl.

If you really wanted that.

Have an easy life.

Pipe and slippers…..

You can wait for death together.

Me?

I’m living in fear and lust.

On the edge and loving it.

Confessions of a Gay Rugby Player. Part 4. Buy it now or else!

An Excerpt:

“Oisin, why the feck are you fidgeting so much?” He has not sat still for one second on the Tube. Oh yes, his arse is leaking. The look he gives me has a touch of hate in it. That’s the first time he has ever looked at me in that way. Can’t say I like it. “You okay?” No reply. I squeeze his thigh, but he says nothing. We sit in silence all the way back to the local Tube stop, and walk back to the hotel without a word between us. Oisin walks into the bedroom ahead of me. I can feel the rage heat coming off him. “So, what the fuck is up with you?”

“Nothing.” Okay, I’m not a woman, but even I can see that he is pissed off to bollix. Oh god. He takes a seat on the bed and lets out a deep sigh. I do hate all this emotional shite. This is why boyfriends are such a bad idea. 

The pair of us are sat there on the bed for a few moments. Then I break the tension with an arm around his shoulder. “What’s up, buddy?”

“Buddy? I’m your fucking partner.”

“Oisin, you know I’m not great at this kind of thing.” Since baring my soul to Sean, I’ve decided that it’s best to keep my heart locked up where it can’t be hurt.

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