Fucking Christ

Winter holidays.

What a wonderful time to share with your loved ones, eating, drinking and disguising the fact that all you can think about is the major deficit you now have in your bank accounts. Left with only pennies and expired condoms in your pockets. After spending the money you don’t have, on gifts you are not even sure the people in your life will keep or re-gift, thanks to Oprah’s clever way or recycling unwanted goodies. I don’t know about you, but I only recycle men.

What a wonderful time indeed.

Stripped is the real value of holidays, and religion has been put on the back burner.

I have no problems with that personally, and no one else seems to object to it either, at least so it seems.

But if religion no longer plays such an integral part in its most dominant area; the celebration of it, why does it still pop up at the most unrelated times and cock blocks me, like a nerdy friend that pulls on my elbow at 2am when I’m just about to seal the deal with the hottest bar tender, because she can’t wait to go home and watch reruns of Honey BooBoo.

We met on an online dating website and he had all the credentials; a tall, dark, handsome Greek.

Yes, I’m that vain. Don’t judge me.

We had a great conversation and he seemed like he wouldn’t get too freaked out if he later found out I documented every little detail of my sex life on a blog online. Maybe I should start making men sign a disclaimer... then whip them with a skillet burning in 50 different red shades over their knees as I’m reverse cow girl fucking them... oops wrong story.

We decided to meet, in a public place of course, and I put on the best “girl next door” show like I learned from watching Elton John’s concerts. After all, why not give real dating a chance, real dating with a heterosexual man, that is.

Plus, it’s always a challenge. It’s a topic of much discussion amongst us girls. That secret recipe that makes men want to wife you rather than just fuck you. The hypothesis is that sex is somehow related and that the introduction always acts as a catalyst; to a disaster or a prosperous relationship. The dosage frequency and magnitude are all factors. It’s an equation that is so precise that is yet to be discovered, thanks to Albert Einstein being a loafer, but one day I will have my light bulb moment. For now, I’m in the experimentation stage, and this time around I was withholding the topic of sex completely to see how well it would work out for me.  

I imagine the date went well because the next time this fucktard decided to message me he asked me if I’d ever consider to convert.

“convert?”

“yeah, to Christianity”

“well, depends how big the ring is”

“i’m not joking”

Woah, woah, woah.

Are you saying that because I didn’t share the details of my dirty mind with you, those thoughts of crawling into your lap in the middle of the restaurant, pretending my mouth was a cork screw and your cock is the neck of a Sauvignon Blanc, you suddenly view me as the respectable woman that I am, and not just a vagina on legs?

You want to wife Anna Lee?

I feel so dirty.

I don’t have time for that bullshit. Life is short and my bucket list has a lot more cocks to get in bed with that I haven’t gotten a chance to seduce.

When I politely rejected his marriage proposal he completely cut me off.

Ouch, is that what rejection feels like?

I think my automatic reaction when someone tries to cage me is self sabotage. Other women would have jumped on the possibility to spend Sundays in a church and live on the Danforth a block away from their mother in law, but the only Greek I agree to commit to at the moment is a Souvlaki dinner after a drunken night.

I fired up all five cylinders and decided I wanted a chance to feel wanted again. Jesus cock blocked me, and no religious figure is going cock block me unless it’s the Easter Bunny and he just decided to drop by with a mountain of kinder eggs I must assemble.

I proceeded to degrade myself by proposing that we don’t have to get serious and can date casually. Well, that was “in between the lines” of my very inappropriate sexts, which lead to us deciding to meet again.

This time, it was for drinks and a lay. I think he got such a whiplash when he saw the other Anna come out that night. The “girl next door” was replaced with the “horny braless flower watering MILF neighbor”.

As I swallowed the last drop of my third gin and tonic, I subtly licked my lips to encourage the production of testosterone in his brain and manmilk in his balls. He got the hint and gestured at the waiter for the bill.

 On the drive over to his place I suffered from the horrible case of sticky fingers and started playing with his zipper, releasing his cock out of his confined jeans I started caressing it like a Persian kitten. To my surprise he was very well endowed, and I was so horny; it almost made me forget I was a woman on a business trip with a very important task to complete.   

He moved the gear to “park” and I displeasingly pulled my hand back into my lap.

As I stepped out of his car he was already beside me pinning me against the car window hands entangled in my hair and pelvis protruding my personal space.

“Are you wet baby?” He whispered in my ear as he slid his hand under my skirt.

"mhhm” I whimpered. “Let’s go inside I have a surprise for you” I commanded, the mission is still on.

We stumbled into his house and barley made it to his bedroom hitting every possible piece of furniture on the way. He started undressing me when I had to catch his wrists and push him on his bed.

“I want to put on a show for you”

I walked back to my purse which was stranded on the floor with half of its content poured over, and got a hold of my scarf.

"I want to tie your hands so you won’t be distracted when you quiver with pleasure”

“Oh I like where this is going” he took his shirt off as I cat walked towards him.

I tied his hands to the bed board and started kissing him gently, slowly shifting downwards licking along his abdominal line and taking his pants off completely to reveal his massive erection. His cock was so hard I think the mystery of what was to come next got his balls in preparation to conceive triplets.

I climbed off the bed and walked over to the television stand.

"Do you mind if I put on some music?” I asked innocently

“Go ahead baby”

I took out a DVD from my purse and inserted it into the player.

A bright light came on the TV with the title “PASSION OF THE CHRIST”

I pressed Play.

His face was priceless and the funniest part of it all was the erection in front of his face.

“Have fun with your homeboy Jesus!” I announced

I collected my purse from the ground and waltzed out of his house.

Religion is overrated