Men hate using condoms, period. The thought of wearing that slimy ring can actually make a man shrivel up at first sight. But should you skip wearing a condom just for that added pleasure of unprotected lovemaking?
There isn’t one man on planet earth who doesn’t hate wearing a condom while engaging in a lustful rendezvous. Come on, admit it guys, we all hate it.
If you can honestly say to yourself that you enjoy wearing a condom while making love, then there’s something seriously weird about you.
For starters, the fact that you enjoy having latex wrapped around your trouser snake! Your make-out adventures can’t be all that fun if your condom is the only thing that turns you on.
All men hate condoms. Condoms are so darn restrictive. It’s as bad as a speed restrictor that holds you at 80mph on your Bugatti Veyron when you want to touch 250mph on an Autobahn.
It’s depressing, and not to mention a complete letdown. You’re not feeling free, you’re not feeling natural.
Actually, you’re not really there. The condom’s the lucky thing that’s doing the girl. You’re just in it doing the locomotion, aren’t you? Ever given that a thought?
When you wear a condom, you never actually are having sex. You’re kissing and licking her, but are you having sex with her? Whoa there, boy, you really are not having sex. It’s the condom that gets to tickle the girl down there.
Let’s look at a comparison here. If you’re cleaning the dirtiest, most disgusting stains off your after-party bathroom floor, you wear rubber gloves for your hand, don’t you?
You do that knowing that it’s not you doing the dirty work, it’s the glove that takes all the dirt, and you’re still all clean. Now think of the condom, it’s really the same thing, isn’t it? Only this time, it’s for pleasure. And women ask us why men hate using condoms!
Imagine this, you’re laying there on this bed, your hot partner is wearing a thong asking you to enter her where the sun doesn’t shine, you get that giddy feeling of being naughty. All your barriers are down and you remove your clothes faster than a cheetah on coke.
Slowly, slowly, you inch closer to the present in front of you. Your hands start to move up her thighs and you’re about to unwrap that present right in front of you. As soon as your hands get to third base, they start to tremble with excited anticipation. You know what awaits you.
You can’t hold it in any longer and you yank off that thong like a child opening up a birthday present. And there appears the very thing your mini-me has been waiting to penetrate for the last few minutes, or since forever. Removing that thong is like getting a gate pass to Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory, only this time, there’s way more than just chocolate in there.
She entices you closer, removing your boxers and revealing your rock hard pencil. You’re within a whisker of entering the tunnel of love and while you wait for the green light to flash, the most dreaded moment occurs. Your prey puts her hand in her handbag, and removes a small square packet that looks like a free sachet of sugar from a fast food joint.
Your eyes open up and you feel as though there’s something definitively coming in the way, between you and your intended target. The adrenalin rush slightly wanes as you move closer to her, but she’s more interested in this small square packet. It then hits you where it hurts.
That small item is, yes, it’s the dreaded, weird smelly latex ring that looks more like the free balloon a kid receives in a goody bag from a party. Your eyes say ‘No’ but your mind says ‘I have to’. But still, you just don’t give a damn about how you’re going to do it, you just want to do it.
Even your sausage jockey looks disgusted and shrivels back an inch at the thought of being suffocated by this dreaded latex thing that has more lubricant on it than a jar of Vaseline.