Bad sex can be plenty painful for men too. Even good sex can be painful. And I don’t mean in that kinky, hot wax and alligator clips, intentional kind of way either. I mean like she’s going 100mph cowgirl and rises just a little too high and misjudges her landing and your ding dong gets slammed by her pelvis. It’s kind of like slamming your toe into a corner of a table or something…only it’s your dongle. It’s not meant to bend at that elevation. At least, not like that and not with that kind of force plunging into it. 100lb woman belly flopping on to your hee-haw feels like getting punched in the tip by a bowling ball. First there’s the initial impact on, literally, the most sensitive spot on the body that is at fucking super saiyan 4 so every touch is elevated to heights that can tickle angle’s toes and then that’s followed by a force that doesn’t stop as the whole tower buckles in ways that nature never intended. Your only saving grace is the fact that oxytocin is starting to flood your brain so you’re feeling really fucking good and happy. So your initial reaction is to buckle over and twist up like a pretzel, she panics, but you start laughing because your brain’s in a good place but your schwing-schwong feels like it just fucking railed by king fucking kong. She’s apologizing profusely and scared to death while your in a fucked up state of high and hurt. At this point you don’t know whether to wrap it up in an ace bandage and put it on crutches for 6 weeks or push aside the agonizing pain, never admit defeat, and return to that smokin hot bitty that just rolled off the top of you. Only this time you take control and when she asks you to choke her, but only just a little, you wrap your massive palms around her throat and strangle her like you were choking your own chicken for the 18th time today.

After you’re done you call up Bill Nye the Science Guy and have a discussion about how in the hell your He-Man went sideways and defied all known laws of physics. He invites you out for a beer where you discuss the aforementioned situation in detail. After a few high fives and a couple drinks later, he takes you back to his pad where he breaks out a white-board and starts trying to math out the physics of dick-bending. After 6 hours of equations that even Good Will Hunting couldn’t fucking figure out, your brain turns to mush and you feel like a retarded rabbit. You eventually give up and go back home to find that 100lb honey made you breakfast and compliments your sexual prowess. In the end, you feel pretty fucking good about yourself because she called you a sex god and you think to yourself, “Maybe it was all worth it after all. Although I could do without my ding-a-ling ever trying to pull a 90 degree hairpin on me ever again.”