I sit on the toilet, waiting for the sperm to fall out of me. Every time I think it has, I stand up to wash off and low behold there is more, so I sit on the toilet again. Eventually, tiring of this routine, I step into the shower and shoot water up my vagina. I will blast it out! Then I sit on the toilet again and wait for the last bits to fall out. Not to mention the period blood, freshly dislodged by all the penetration. Many wipes later and a wiggle and rummage to get my menstrual cup back up there so it can collect the last of the sperm and blood—although sperm has a cunning way of working it’s way around the sides of the cup and into whatever clothes I’m wearing—I am finally done with my post-sex cleanup. Meanwhile, he has splashed some water on his penis, dressed, sat himself on the balcony, smoked half a joint and read several chapters of his book.
You can't mistake my biology
You can't mistake my biology
You can't mistake my biology
I sit on the toilet, waiting for the sperm to fall out of me. Every time I think it has, I stand up to wash off and low behold there is more, so I sit on the toilet again. Eventually, tiring of this routine, I step into the shower and shoot water up my vagina. I will blast it out! Then I sit on the toilet again and wait for the last bits to fall out. Not to mention the period blood, freshly dislodged by all the penetration. Many wipes later and a wiggle and rummage to get my menstrual cup back up there so it can collect the last of the sperm and blood—although sperm has a cunning way of working it’s way around the sides of the cup and into whatever clothes I’m wearing—I am finally done with my post-sex cleanup. Meanwhile, he has splashed some water on his penis, dressed, sat himself on the balcony, smoked half a joint and read several chapters of his book.