Fake cum Stories

Seven inches is supposed to be just perfect—at least as far as Subway’s polls regarding the gustative insult they dare call ‘sandwiches’ go. “You and I are through,” her text reads. Timestamp o-dark-hundred this morning. I raise one eyebrow and curl my lips into a pissed-off duck face at my girlfriend’s text—or rather ex, go figure. “Fuck Subway and their statistics,” I mutter, thinking about how she’s always kept reassur...