And why, within a matter of twenty-four hours, have I been pressed against two men’s cocks and not had sex? Is it broken? Is my vagina broken? Soon she’ll spend her days sitting on an old dusty shelf, remembering her sad glory days of all the men who tried to grind her gears and failed. When all along all she was missing was one good screw. I sigh a pitiful sound at the memoir I’m painting of the Little Vagina that Couldn’t. My
Lenore Kosinski liked this
