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If I Were Still a Virgin I’d probably have had sex with a tree by now. Because aer 21 years of abstinence, I’d definitely have a woody. Holding my genitals to a higher moral standard sounds loy and good. But orgasms are celestial. So like any decent renaissance theologian, I’ve counted the number of angels that can simultaneously fit on the tip of my penis. (So far I’ve managed only one at a time.) If I were still a virgin I’d never masturbate for fear that a single seamen might go to waste— mutiny upon the very Arc of humanity. If I were still a virgin I’d never know the warm magic spells cast by the wand that lives in my pants: e Original Prestidigitator. Nor would I know hers: the sweetest strangest looking best tasting lunch and e Original Bedtime Snack. If I were still a virgin I’d philosophize about the grander order of love; I’d expound upon the history of pubic pogonotrophy; I’d explore the deeper meanings of humping. If I were still a virgin I would never know what I’d been missing and probably wouldn’t even care.
B.R