Since I was a kid, it has kind of been a tradition in my family that everyone reflects on the previous year, as we all go around the table and say what we are thankful for.
You know, right after that unnecessarily long prayer led by the long-winded uncle who can’t shut up with the all “that God stuff”. Like dude, “we fuckin’ got it already. Can we eat already, for fuck’s sake?”
But this year, I’d be lying if I wasn’t well aware that I am thankful for you. I imagine my most honest version of said annual reflection goes something like this: “I am thankful for my health, the health of my loved ones, my job, and that best friend of whom it doesn’t hurt that I just happen to want to rip her fucking clothes off, shove my bearded face between her thighs, suck that fuckin’ clit, and force orgasms on her in such rapid succession that her body feels my presence for a fuckin’ week.”
Needless to say, I didn’t say that out loud.
I have a feeling that my mom would have shot shitty red wine out of her nose while that “new girlfriend” of my cousin would have leaned forward, giggled, her thighs would have clenched up, and she’d somehow take an interest in my very uninteresting job.
But babydoll, jokes aside, as your very long day draws to a close and I type this barely keeping my tired bloodshot eyes open, you probably should know, that I think you are pretty fucking amazing.
So the next time you are on my lap, I’m going to remind you of this post.
I am going to get “all romantic” and tell you how you are my thankful toast.
And then I am going to eat your pussy like it’s a Thanksgiving feast.
Also published on Medium.