A Letter to My G-Spot
Dear G-Spot,
Where the hell are you?
Do you even exist? Are you just a mere myth invented for the sole purpose of torturing women with high expectations and taunting men for their substandard horizontal techniques? Are you just a mere fragment spun from some lonely woman’s imagination as she lay under the heaving Wookish morbidly obese body of her panting husband to entice him to stop his one minute pounding of her disenchanted vaginal canal?
Where the f**kin’ hell are you?
