This is why I don't trust my dick as far as I could throw an elephant. That fucker!
I haven't ever drank so much as a drop of liquor, because in those days, there wasn't anything to drink, and I never did think it was a good idea to fuck up a perfectly good mind for recreational purposes.
But my dick has absolutely no appreciation for perfectly good minds, because he thinks with HIS mind. Not mine. So if HE found
Ronan Kennedy as a bartender somewhere, that fucker'd sit right there and think about his face, how pretty Johnny could style his hot hair, and what a big dick we both know he's hauling around while he's being everyone's friend, and probably thinking about pussy. My dick wouldn't care that
Ronan Kennedy's dick was thinking about pussy, or care how drunk I got, nor even think about the shame of having to be dumped into a cab, and even have to have someone else to tell the driver where to take me.
In the face of a hot fucker like
Ronan Kennedy, my dick cannot be expected to call up proper boundries. Now that's why I can't trust my dick.
I've said it, and its the TRUTH.