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Dear Sir/Madam,
The other day, I heard your ad on the radio - you know, the one in which you try to shove these glow-in-the-dark condoms down my throat. Well, that’s not entirely fair: it’s a nice ad. It got me running to the store to get me some glow-in-the-dark condoms, so you see: advertising does work!
Anyway, I got the condoms and kept them on my shelve, you know, like good wine or expensive whisky, for one of those special occasions.
Turns out, only seven weeks after I bought the glow-in-the-dark condoms, one of those special occasions popped up. I had a date. A date that ultimately lead to sex. Big hurrah for me, I suppose.
So, all went pretty well - the date, I mean. And back in my apartment, we detected in one another that sex was going to be the clincher of the evening. Another big hurrah for me! And then I remembered the glow-in-the-dark condoms. Feeling confident enough to label the evening as a special occasion. I told her about the condoms, she got exited, I got exited. I only had to seal the deal…
Your product, dear Sir/Madam, is fluorescent. That’s not a problem in itself, but it didn’t say so on the package. And therein lies the problem.
Well, to experience the fun of glow-in-the-dark condoms to the fullest, we shut down all the lights in the bedroom. We were amusing each other (I mean: foreplay!) in pitch dark. Once again, not a problem!
Now, I don’t know if you have a very active sex life and therefor are very skilled, or perhaps you are a prostitute or a porn star, but I myself am not very handy when it comes to putting on a condom in the darkest of dark. Nor was my date. So I decided to go to the bathroom to put it on and - since it glows, as you state on the package - find my way back through the dark bedroom, that kind of resembled an abandoned mine - light-wise that is… I thought my wrapped, erect, rock hard penis could resemble some teenage, mutant, ninja glow-worm, or something. The Stallone of Fun In The Bedroom Land! The Lumina Terminator!
In the bathroom, I opened up the package and slipped the condom on. Just to be sure I was all lit down there, I turned off the bathroom lights - just to check - and… nothing. No glow, no light, nothing. I know - my bad - I kept the condom in its wrapper for seven weeks, and I don’t know how long it’s been standing there on the shelve in the drugstore, so it occurred to me - just like the glow-in-the-dark toys and balls and stuff we had as kids - it had to be recharged.
Now, picture me with a rock-hard dick, wearing that condom, pointing to the light in the bathroom. Even being by yourself: that’s embarrassing! Plus, just like the toys, it takes a while to recharge the damn thing. I’m easily exited, I’ll give you that, but I am not able to keep a hard-on for hours on end, just to recharge a glow-in-the-dark condom! And, come to think of it, I don’t know how you fuck, dear Sir/Madam, but what happens, when I fuck - and yes, I use the word FUCK here - is that I usually end up with my dick inside the other person. I don’t know how bendy you are, but once my dick disappears inside another person, I never see it again. What’s the point of having a glow-in-the-dark condom, then?
Anyway, long story short, I stayed in the bathroom to recharge the condom for three-and-a-half hours. Which also means, that I had to keep an erection for three-and-a-half hours! Without any assistance and without the use of pumps, cock rings, Viagra and the works. It was just me, my dick and the lightbulb that tried to bring back some life into the glow-in-the-dark condom.
After those horrible three-and-a-half hours in the bathroom by myself, I detected a slight glimmer on the condom - my thought: it’s better than nothing; I mean, the damn thing wasn’t even cheap. I stumbled through the pitch-dark bedroom, with this tiny, tiny, wee, little glow, surrounding my - well - tool, which was, by the way, one third its original size - meaning the rock-hard, impressive hard-on I had before I left for the bathroom for this impossible mission of fun, fun, glow in the fucking dark fucking fun! - bumping into almost everything. Just to find out my date had left the bedroom. Had left the house. Had left the state, for all I know! Either she couldn’t handle the pressure of being penetrated by something glowing, or it had taken just - oh, i don’t know - ten minutes too long to get your damn condom charged! I’m guessing the second.
So, dear Sir/Madam, clearly your product doesn’t bring as much fun into the bedroom as it promised. So I hereby demand a refund!
Yours,
Mr. 8 inches of fun!
The other day, I heard your ad on the radio - you know, the one in which you try to shove these glow-in-the-dark condoms down my throat. Well, that’s not entirely fair: it’s a nice ad. It got me running to the store to get me some glow-in-the-dark condoms, so you see: advertising does work!
Anyway, I got the condoms and kept them on my shelve, you know, like good wine or expensive whisky, for one of those special occasions.
Turns out, only seven weeks after I bought the glow-in-the-dark condoms, one of those special occasions popped up. I had a date. A date that ultimately lead to sex. Big hurrah for me, I suppose.
So, all went pretty well - the date, I mean. And back in my apartment, we detected in one another that sex was going to be the clincher of the evening. Another big hurrah for me! And then I remembered the glow-in-the-dark condoms. Feeling confident enough to label the evening as a special occasion. I told her about the condoms, she got exited, I got exited. I only had to seal the deal…
Your product, dear Sir/Madam, is fluorescent. That’s not a problem in itself, but it didn’t say so on the package. And therein lies the problem.
Well, to experience the fun of glow-in-the-dark condoms to the fullest, we shut down all the lights in the bedroom. We were amusing each other (I mean: foreplay!) in pitch dark. Once again, not a problem!
Now, I don’t know if you have a very active sex life and therefor are very skilled, or perhaps you are a prostitute or a porn star, but I myself am not very handy when it comes to putting on a condom in the darkest of dark. Nor was my date. So I decided to go to the bathroom to put it on and - since it glows, as you state on the package - find my way back through the dark bedroom, that kind of resembled an abandoned mine - light-wise that is… I thought my wrapped, erect, rock hard penis could resemble some teenage, mutant, ninja glow-worm, or something. The Stallone of Fun In The Bedroom Land! The Lumina Terminator!
In the bathroom, I opened up the package and slipped the condom on. Just to be sure I was all lit down there, I turned off the bathroom lights - just to check - and… nothing. No glow, no light, nothing. I know - my bad - I kept the condom in its wrapper for seven weeks, and I don’t know how long it’s been standing there on the shelve in the drugstore, so it occurred to me - just like the glow-in-the-dark toys and balls and stuff we had as kids - it had to be recharged.
Now, picture me with a rock-hard dick, wearing that condom, pointing to the light in the bathroom. Even being by yourself: that’s embarrassing! Plus, just like the toys, it takes a while to recharge the damn thing. I’m easily exited, I’ll give you that, but I am not able to keep a hard-on for hours on end, just to recharge a glow-in-the-dark condom! And, come to think of it, I don’t know how you fuck, dear Sir/Madam, but what happens, when I fuck - and yes, I use the word FUCK here - is that I usually end up with my dick inside the other person. I don’t know how bendy you are, but once my dick disappears inside another person, I never see it again. What’s the point of having a glow-in-the-dark condom, then?
Anyway, long story short, I stayed in the bathroom to recharge the condom for three-and-a-half hours. Which also means, that I had to keep an erection for three-and-a-half hours! Without any assistance and without the use of pumps, cock rings, Viagra and the works. It was just me, my dick and the lightbulb that tried to bring back some life into the glow-in-the-dark condom.
After those horrible three-and-a-half hours in the bathroom by myself, I detected a slight glimmer on the condom - my thought: it’s better than nothing; I mean, the damn thing wasn’t even cheap. I stumbled through the pitch-dark bedroom, with this tiny, tiny, wee, little glow, surrounding my - well - tool, which was, by the way, one third its original size - meaning the rock-hard, impressive hard-on I had before I left for the bathroom for this impossible mission of fun, fun, glow in the fucking dark fucking fun! - bumping into almost everything. Just to find out my date had left the bedroom. Had left the house. Had left the state, for all I know! Either she couldn’t handle the pressure of being penetrated by something glowing, or it had taken just - oh, i don’t know - ten minutes too long to get your damn condom charged! I’m guessing the second.
So, dear Sir/Madam, clearly your product doesn’t bring as much fun into the bedroom as it promised. So I hereby demand a refund!
Yours,
Mr. 8 inches of fun!
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