we met in a Boots
I asked her if this cream would help my genital warts. she said she'd ask her teacher the next day. She was my ideal woman, hair like ripe avocados, and an anus that could hold a beach umberella in a gale. I knew that a woman like that would have to be romanced, so I asked her if she'd like to have my fuck missile explode in her ham silo. She said she wasn't into star wars, but she'd give me a titwank for an oyster card.
As soon as we got in the door she had her hand down my pants. I had to walk back and force her to drop my wallet. She asked me if I had ever made love to the Bolero, I said I preferred Dale's Supermarket Sweep. She was like a gymnast in bed. Fourteen. We started with a rusty trombone, then a cleveland steamer, and finally a kidderminster shagpiledriver that dislocated my wrist. She asked me to treat her mean so I told her she had the dress sense of a bosnian refugee. I gave her multiple organisms and she made me sleep in the wet spot. She touched me in places no woman had touched me before, like my duodenum. Sometimes, in some situations, I'm instantly transported back to that night and I can't help but touch myself, such as when I see a woman choking on mayonaisse
( cumquat may will not be commenting further on the allegations, Fri 24 Aug 2012, 3:23, Reply)