Diary of a hypochondriac

I am the best mosquito killer in the world. I don't say it to brag. I just am. I can kill them with two hands, one hand, between my fingers -- I even think that if I look at them cross they fly away cause they've heard about me.

Recently, I came in contact with the silliest mosquito ever. It was bouncing around my headboard. The headboard has three spaces to put books and stuff and it bounced around off the top of it, the books, the alarm clock. It was nearly impossible to catch because it wouldn't stay still for a moment. I had finally met my match. I was impressed. Then I finally cornered it. I started in with my hand to catch it and hold and then smack it dead with the other in a lightning quick clap of death, but I noticed it split. It was two. Were they having sex?

I had no choice but to change plans. One hand closed around one and then the other hand grabbed the other. I still clapped them together and there on my palm lay two dead mosquitoes. From coitus to fucked.

I smiled. I am still the best.

I think that my cock is falling off. No really. It's so sore from having too much sex. The sex is great but I think my cock is blistering or something. Ouch. Maybe I need to bandage it, or cover it in vaseline, or something like that. It started with a small blister, but since my girlfriend is learning to deepthroat she kept giving me head, and the blister expanded until it had managing control over the whole thing.