Okay, this absolutely sucks. I have got this HUGE zit, right in the middle of my forehead, and another on my chin, and I'm supposed to go to a party with this guy and this is just so FUCKING typical!
I can't tell you how much I hate this stupid little planet. Yellow sun, super strength, and let me tell you about PMS. Yeah, right. PMS - really freaking funny, isn't it? LOOK at that zit!!! I mean for God's sake, it's bigger than Mt. St. Helens, and will probably blow just like it, too.
Don't even TALK to me about concealer, okay? Like, don't even go there. I can't wear makeup - X-ray and Heat Vision are HELL on mascara. Nothing will hide this thing anyway, except a bag over my head. I wish I could just stay home. That's it, just stay home with a quart of Ben and Jerry's, and hide for four days, and then come out again when it's over. But I'm just too horny and this guy is HUGE - I mean, he's big and strong and HUGE - and I really need something huge!
I'm not hideous, right? I don't scare little kids, and I don't break mirrors, but I can't get lucky to save my life, and I'm pretty damned frustrated right now.
My first date? Middle school - the Winter Dance. I got all dressed up, and I got in the backseat of Mr. Carver's Buick with Fred Carver. What does the weasel do? Grab my tit. I grabbed his hand and broke all his fingers.
Some Winter Dance - the whole night we were at the emergency room, and Mr. Danvers and Mr. Carver were yelling at each other.
In high school, Joe Mantuzzi bet all the guys that he'd be the first to fuck me. I'd have rather fucked his father's bull, but he just wouldn't leave me alone. He grabbed me one day near the gym, and I had to hit him.
I didn't know the concrete on that wall was so hard. He can walk now without too much of a hitch, and he doesn't drool as much.
Oh, yes, and the time Fred Carver (who is not the brightest bulb in the chandelier) was staring at me one day at cheerleading practice and I stared back and his pants caught fire.
It was kind of funny, but I'm glad they put it out. I mean, had I known what he was packing in those pants - let's just say that I felt a lot warmer toward him after that, though it didn't do me any good.
Not that it matters. There's this little problem; when I come, my muscles clench. Yeah, clench. HARD. I could crush an Earth guy's dick like an overripe banana, if I didn't break his back with a simple hug first. And what if I lost control and dug my fingernails into his back like all the women in those trashy romance novels do when they come?
And did I mention my Kryptonian hymen? Like, a guy needs a jackhammer to get through it... I'm pretty sure I can work around the clenching, reverse Kegels or something, and I don't mind a little bondage; I'm strong, but steel alloy restraints will keep people from being hurt.
But how in the hell are they going to get in in the first place? Poor Fred again - he bruised himself. I was SO ready, I mean, wet and making those smacking slurpy sounds (Fred had a pretty good tongue, too!) and had just climaxed like crazy, and Fred just drove in with that good sized dong of his and WHAM!
He was in too much pain for even a blow job. I'm good at those; goodness knows I do enough of them!!!
One thing, though... kind of a pleasant surprise for Fred. Even that small contact with my juices was good for him. He became, if not the Man of Steel in that respect, at least the man of Rock. Last time I saw him he told me he could go forever, and come hard as well... over and over again.