When you enter the room, a murmur goes through the ranks of the ladies present. “It was for a handsome man,” you can literally read on their lips, but this reaction is not necessarily due to the appearance, not even the main thing, but the type of appearance. With your shirt open to under your sternum, you can see your hairy chest. Every single hair screams masculinity. The pelvis is slightly extended so that it is unmistakably clear, look, I have a penis, and those who are supposed to be addressed with it have none, but that doesn’t matter, because you are quite ready to lend it to all of them too short come who do not call their own tail, ready to please them with it, because that is your task, your devotion, in all your selflessness, as God’s gift to women.
You stop for a moment, not forgetting to gently move the pelvis. There is no room for interpretation, but says unequivocally, I will fuck one of you today, but it is not yet certain which one will be the lucky one, the chosen one, the chosen one. You look around. You see them languishing, starving, for the elixir of life. You wonder which of them would be worthy to kneel down in front of you and pay tribute to the phallus, which of them is needy enough. First you sort out all those who do not correspond to your ideal of beauty, because after all you have to handle this unique gift with care. Then the fat ones fall away. First of all. That would be too embarrassing. They’re so unaesthetic. Then those with too big or too small breasts, too wide or too narrow hips and those too old. There aren’t many left. But you will only make one happy today. You look into the eyes of those who have passed the test, because in it you can read who really knows how to appreciate you, as God’s gift to women.
You have finally made your choice, take up the springy, bobbing gear again and head straight for her, your most enchanting smile on your face. One can only hope that she will remain steadfast and not faint from sheer joy. No, she stands, probably vibrating with joy and trembling with awe, as it should be. She sucks in the scent of the excessive testosterone, a slight dizziness strikes her. And she wants nothing but to be allowed to kneel in front of you, to taste the tail, which she does not have, but which you make available in your kindness, because you are God’s gift to women.
„Why are you doing that?“ I asked you one day, „Do you need it to stabilize your ego.“
“But by no means, you misunderstand me,” you said, still that smeary, rehearsed smile on your face, “that is my mission. I can’t help it. I am here in the world to please women. I can’t be monogamous. That contradicts my sense of mission, because I am God’s gift to women.“ „And what does your wife say about that?“ I asked undeterred.
“She doesn’t know anything about it and is not allowed to know anything about it. She wouldn’t understand, even if she appreciates me. As long as everything remains hidden, everything is fine,” you said.
„So, you’re scared of losing her if you were honest?“ I persisted.
„Not necessarily her, but the house,“ you answered bluntly.
„And she acts the same way?“ I also wanted to know.
“Of course not!”, you showed yourself indignantly, “Woe if she even looks at someone else. But how about the two of us?“
„No, thank you,“ I replied bluntly, „Make happy whoever you like, lie as much as you want, including yourself, but I don’t feel like joining the long line of your ladies.“
„You actually said no?“, you asked, stunned, „But it’s me, God’s gift to women.“
„Then give someone else a present, give enough of them anyway, who long for you and appreciate the gift,“ I said unmoved and left while you turned to someone else. Gifts, especially God’s gifts, must not be kept for oneself.