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Just Because I Frequently Have Sex with Our Couch Doesn’t Mean I’m Only Attracted to Furniture
by Clay Shompson

There are many things a man doesn't have to talk about with his mother. One of these things is why he fornicates with his own furniture. The intense look in my eyes implies all of that.

Look, Momma, you need to understand once and for all that just because you’ve caught me having sex with the couch in our living room a few times, it doesn’t mean that I’m not attracted to women. It just means that on certain occasions I enjoy the feel of the couch’s material on my *****.

Yes, I’m sure it would be much healthier and perhaps even a relief for the sensitive skin of my ***** itself if I was having sex with a real woman instead of with the non-lubricated cushions of our couch, but that kind of thing can’t happen every day, so I have to make do in whatever way I can. Plus, I’m always sitting at home watching TV anyway, usually on that very couch, and I guess it’s sort of a convenience thing.

I still look forward to making you a proud grandma some day, but right now I just haven’t met any women who I could marry and start a family with. And even though I don’t think this is any of your business, I’ll tell you now that most of the women I’ve met in recent years won’t let me have sex with them like I want to anyway.

You’re probably wondering what I mean when I say that. Well, Momma, when it comes to sexual activities, I like for a woman to cover her entire body with this scratchy plaid cloth-suit I made and then lay down real nice and flat, being careful not to move a muscle or make a sound the whole time I’m having sex with her.

Sometimes, if possible, I like for another girl to dress up in one of your shirts and come walking into the room during the middle of it, yelling at me to put my clothes on and wash the couch again.

But all of that is neither here nor there or anywhere else. The true mustard of the situation is that I’ve been doing some thinking ever since you first asked me to stop fooling around with the couch a couple of months ago, and I’m proud to say that just last weekend when you were out trying to get a job so we can afford to get the phone hooked back up, I ignored my usual desire to hump the couch and instead attempted to hump the ottoman. I’ll admit, it was a little clumsy and unfamiliar at first, but in the end, it served its purpose and I suppose I would do it again if you really want me to give the couch a rest.

But you can forget me ever putting my dick inside the recliner. Not only do I think it would be too uncomfortable and awkward to thrust around in, but it still smells too much like Granny did.

So I hope this makes you think twice about taking it easy on me in the future whenever you happen to walk in the room and I’m having a real nice time with the couch. Just leave me be and continue on with whatever it was you were doing and everything will be fine..

And also, could you please stop sticking those razor blades and broken bottles in between the couch cushions? I don’t feel like having to stay up all night soaking my bleeding privates in rubbing alcohol again.