No Thank You

No, I don't want any of your "good-ass mandingo donkey-dick".
No, I'd prefer that you not "fuck me in half".
No, I'd rather you didn't "fuck the taste out of my mouth".
No, I won't "let (you) show (me) what a Hawaiian Muscle Fuck is".
No, I can't say I've ever wanted to be "throatfucked while lying flat on (my) back with (my) head hanging off the side of the bed".
No, I don't want to "coat us both in baby oil and fuck (you) on the Slip 'N Slide".
No, I'm not interested "blowing (you) and (your) twin brother". Especially not at the same time.
No, I'm afraid I don't want to watch while you "show (me) how a real man treats a dirty little bitch like (me)".
No, I'm not interested in being given "fifty orgasms an hour".
No, I have no desire to "suck (your) anaconda like the antidote's in it".
No, I wouldn't like to "use (you) as (my) toilet".
No, I'd much prefer not to be "split like a cord of wood".
No, I don't think I'd rather enjoy playing "Secretary with you, and (I'll) be Maggie Gyllenhaal.
No, I must say I'll pass on "dressing (you) up like a little girl, spanking (you) and calling (you) a whore".
No, I will not "come over to (your) hotel room and pretend (I'm) (your) wife for a night". No, not even ask nicely.

And to all you future wannabe-Casanovas who think the fact that I write so candidly of my dating and mating exploits means that I'm willing to randomly jump into the sack with guys who stumble across my little corner of the internet, let me set you straight before you articulate yourself into my e-mail's handy little "Ignore" filter: I won't. You're much better off just saying "hello" like a decent human being.