It's hard out here for a pimp

I can't get over how sore my nipples are right now. I think I have particularly sensitive nipples. For example, one time I walked into the restaurant and the Polish girl was standing there with a big grin on her face. She then asked if I was excited about something. I had no idea what she was talking about, but she kept grinning and laughing, and eventually she told me that my nipples were showing through my dress shirt. And it was cold out. But they're not just good thermometers - they respond just as much to touch. But they're not sensitive in a good way, but instead in the ouch-that-hurts sensitive way.

I once slept with a girl who bit them. She did it in a fairly gentle way, but I still hated it. The whole time she's doing it, I was wishing she would concentrate on different areas and eventually got to the point where it just flat out hurt. It wasn't just one of those things that your partner does again and again that they think you like because you pretend you do or maybe it's worked on others and you just pretend because it makes them feel good and it's polite. No, it was just flat out painful, and I didn't even try to fake it. I eventually just yanked her mouth away so we could make out some more, yet still she went back after that. I hated it so much that I never called her again. She was no obsessed with nipplage that she was probably a lesbian anyway. It wouldn't have been the first time, or, for that matter, probably not the last. I'm okay with that.

But they're not sore because of that right now. It's all the running and working out and sweating I'm doing lately in cotton shirts. I have a finite number of polyester or polypro shirts that I can wear, so I'm left with cotton that never dries for most of my activities. I've now started wearing band-aids on my nipples, but the damage has apparently been done because they're sore as hell. Plus, yesterday I spilled coffee on my shirt right over my right nipple and used bleach to get off the stain - while I was wearing the shirt (no real choice if you're waiting tables and can't change). The bleach on top of the already raw nipplage made me want to cry.

Today, they're just a little tender. But it's moments like these that I'm glad I'm not a woman. I mean, certainly I feel for the ladies when they have to deal with an eager breastman in the sack, and have always been as gentle as possible for this reason. But, much worse, I cannot comprehend how someone can breastfeed. Ouch! Even the thought of having another human being suckle off my nipple makes me queasy. So props to the ladies for strong nipplage in the face of pain.

I'm sorry about this entry. This is what summer vacation does to me. On a related note, I saw a guy in a t-shirt today that said, "Please tell your boobs to stop staring at my eyes. Thank you." I thought it was hilarious.