Ok...so the other day there was a post asking why women hate the word "moist." I worked really hard on my reply but I don't think anyone saw it. Would...would you read it and tell me if I'm right? (likely nsfw)

my reply:

You're down on your luck. Like really down. You're living out of your car, but one more late payment and they'll try to repo it. You are starving, freezing, and out of options. You suppress with what is left of your dignity to get the will to pull on some dirty underwear, short shorts, flip flops, and a thick jacket. You smear on some red lipstick you stole from a drug store and make yourself get out of the car, head towards the nearest through street, and start walking.

It isn't long before a 79 Pinto pulls up. The guy has yellowed eyes and bad teeth. You tell him how much, he wants it for less. You haggle a bit before giving in. He's robbing you blind but you'd rather have enough money for a Happy Meal than starve again tonight.

You get in his car. It smells like burnt hair, cigarettes, and whiskey. He pulls into a 7-11 parking lot and parks in the darkest spot. He puts the car in park, unbuckles his pants, and waits. His underwear is grey, stained, and bulging. Your stomach cramps. You know right away you will do anything you can to keep that thing as far from your mouth as possible.

You decide to surprise him by straddling him in the driver's seat. His eyebrows raise as you unbutton your top. Suddenly you feel his hand - cold and bony - burrow itself between the waist of your shorts and your skin, and shoving down, further, until two frigid, scabby, wormy digits have worked their way into you, and it is all you can do to keep from gagging at the violation of it all.

"Mmm," he says. His breath smells like sour old coffee. "Moist."