You know the guy. Up in da club. Things getting sweaty. People making moves. Suddenly, out of nowhere, there’s a denim-covered cock poking you from behind. You turn around, and there he is, smiling his crusty ‘don’t mind me, I’m just thrusting my penis in your ass’ smile, or licking his lips like a drug addict in a poppy field.
Listen up, Denim Cock – there are better ways to ask a girl to dance. Your protruding erection spoils our night. It makes us want to vom, let alone touch you with a 10-foot pole. Unless we could use said pole to stab you in the eye, or cock, depending on our aim.
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I am so glad I don’t go to da club anymore. 10 years ago, I would go dance at the gay bar just to avoid this guy, but he figured it out and came on down there too. I actually shoved him off of a friend of mine who was too drunk to do it herself, only to have him like it rough and come rub it on me. I have seen him elbowed at max strength by Bony Full Sleeve Tattoo Dom Girl, I have seen him cold cocked by Welder Dyke, I have even seen him burned with a lighter by Mullet Lez, but he always comes back. Thank you for calling him out at last.