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Ronald Hankpanker had trouble getting women to fuck him. He was not a good lover. Occasionally he would find an insecure woman with no standards or self-esteem whom he could talk into the sack, but then he would have difficulty getting hard. When he finally got it up he would force his way through grunts and moans. He choreographed his dirty talk the way he imagined it should go (“Suck that cock…now suck it with your pussy.”). When he finally managed to achieve orgasm and found himself in the deafening, post-coital stillness, he tried to hide how obvious it was that he had fucked badly by marshalling understatement jokes. “I can think of worse ways to spend an afternoon – heh heh.” These jokes were met with anything from a confused chuckle to silence to fury. When Ronald was 46 he realized he was gay. All the gray crust disappeared from his soul. Only thing was, he couldn’t get out of the habit of making those jokes after sex. Now, instead of stony silence or a tongue-lashing from harsh female lips, he got a muscled forearm to the jaw, or his collar bone splintered when he was tossed from the bed. When he was 48, Ronald had his name legally changed to Jim Smith but he still got his ass kicked after gay sex. Much later, he died of natural causes.