Reader, I will fail you. You want something from me, and I don’t have it. Maybe you want to cum, and you think I will help you, but I couldn’t care less about helping you finish. If that’s why you’re here, well, you’ll be edging the whole way through. Stop. You don’t want this.

And if you’re looking for an entertaining piece of writing, you’re clearly barking up the wrong tree. You will quickly come to the crystalline conclusion that I am in dire need of an editor.

The truth is... I’m using you. Reminiscing about my glory days makes me feel like I’m hot. Like a man. Like I am wanted by someone. I’ve had that feeling many times before, and I want it back.

Maybe someone out there will be impressed. A cuck. A virgin. A sub. But this story will not leave you satisfied in the end. Real stories follow real lives, and real lives are only good in the middle. The beginnings are always awkward, and the endings are pathetic. No one will save you. You’ve been warned.

I’ve been with about thirty women in some sexual sort of way. My goal is to go through them all chronologically. Memory will fail me at times, but I’ll play it safe and err towards more conservative interpretations of my activities. This won’t be fun for either of us.

And you’re still here. Hmm.

Maybe this will work out after all.