The time I made love with long hair

Ok people, imagine this
I’m at a bar, I spot a foxy moma
I walk up to her, I say “Hi, I’m Baron”
She makes contact with me, grabs my huge biceps and introduces herself
She says “so what do you do?”
I say “I’m a writer”
She says “No really, what do you do?”
I say “I’m a writer, why would I lie about that, I have 16,000 views on my blog” (a subtle flex to her and to you, my reader)
She says “Prove it”
I start reciting a romantic poem I wrote to a girl who now hates me
She says “Let us fuck”

I’m in bed with this fly shorty
Things are getting hot and heavy
So I’m in bear position (other people call it being on top)
I’m about to get my Magic Mike on, a sensual dance routine I use to arouse women
She’s  giving me consent with her eyes, cuz consent is sexy
I ask just in case though, to be sure
She says “yes”
I ask again, to see whether she was answering my question or just in the heat of the moment
She says “yes” again, for the third time
No penetration yet, just sultry dance moves by me, that don’t ever stop
Hips are gyrating at mach 3 speeds
I lean in for the kiss
Boom – curtain call, I can’t see
My hair is obstructing my vision and my plump lips from reaching hers
Our hair is now entangled
She says “I can’t do this, your hair reminds me of a woman’s”
I say “No, come back Selena Gomez!”
And that’s why The Weeknd got a haircut

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