Measured

 

How could she ?
I mean… how could she !
What does she see in that effort ?
Nature failed.  Miserably.
A bore and totally unaware of his inadequacies
Which doesn’t say a lot for her.
Beautiful, but dense.
To prefer this oaf to the cream…
It doesn’t make sense
His ears : too Royal and too red
His eyes : like the beads of a pig
I can see his ugly face on a platter, served but declined, totally inedible
His cock ? I have to assume it’s that. It’s a terrible thought that I’ve been measured. They snigger whenever I approach. They have talked about me. Clearly, this bitch prefers width to quality
Why should I care ? For Heaven’s sake, man, WHY ?
It’s what others will say. Word will get around, that I’m a man ‘not made-to-measure’, am ‘short measure’, did not ‘measure up to requirements’
Fuck the pair of them
I shall take my four inches elsewhere

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