An open letter to all you female readers out there, guaranteed to soak through even the most absorbent of pants.
Hey there, lady.
That’s right, you know who this is. You must know, then, that it’s that time again for me, that time when I get the urge. The urge for some of the sweet, sweet, sugary-sweetness of your syrupy candy-hole. Sorry, I also apparently have the urge for some actual candy. Let me take care of that. There are we are; Good & Plenty. Mmm. You know that’s what you’re going to get from me, girl. Get it? Good & Plenty? Yes, you get it. That’s my girl, smart as a whip!
Anyway, I’ve got that urge real bad. So why don’t you come on and hop over here to my place? You can walk, right? No, I’m kidding of course. I’ll be a gentleman. I will reimburse your bus ticket. Oh, and get some kind of fancy liquor on the way, like some Bailey’s or Christian Brothers. I’ll split the cost with you, because, you know, you’ll be drinking, like, half of it. And please, don’t tarry, my lady. I have a thing later. Also I just can’t wait to please the hell out of you. Shit, you are going to be so pleasured, it’s not even going to be funny.
Ah, you’re here, just in time. Actually, you could have been here a little bit earlier. You must have done some tarrying, like I told you specifically not to! Don’t worry, though, I forgive you, and respect your right to tease. Please, come inside, out of the cold. Oh, don’t mind him. That’s my roommate, the Wheeze. Don’t worry about Wheeze, he’s all right. Sorry Wheeze, I can’t watch Robot Chicken with you tonight. What’s that? Well, I don’t know. Would you like a hit off of Wheeze’s bong, my sweet? I’m sure you’ll find its acrylic wizard decorations pleasing to the eye and the soul. No? Well, all right, that’s kind of rude, but I’ll let it slide, because you are going to get the most beautiful and exquisite dicking of your life. I know I’d be tense and stand-offish if I were standing on such a hot, throbby precipice.
Let’s just step into my room. Please step lightly, so as not to knock my MacFarlane figure of Locke from Lost off of that shelf. Here is my futon, where your world will be summarily rocked. Just let me get all these Crunchwrap Supreme boxes out of the way, and we’ll get right down to the festivities. What’s that? Why, yes, that is Axe Body Spray. I forgot to take a shower a couple times, so I thought I’d freshen things up for your comfort. I even shaved most of my neck-beard. Go ahead, have a feel. No, not there. I don’t know, a scab or something. See, here. There, that’s the sweet spot, from the Adam’s Apple down.
I can see from your concerned frown that you’re getting uncontrollably turned on. Let me take off my Rush t-shirt and show you my glistening man-chest. That’s actually not a rash, I just get really blotchy. Now the belt. I like to whip it when I take it off, like I’m Indiana Jones. You know, we could role-play like that, I’ll be Indy and you’ll be that smokin’ Nazi broad. Maybe you’d like to be whipped, Krauty Von Tits…Kyaah!
Oh God, I didn’t mean to hit your face with it. That’s blood. Oh, wow, that’s black blood. You might want to see a couple surgeons about that. That “Spinnaz” buckle really dug itself in there well, didn’t it? Look, my lady, the mood’s kind of shot for me at this point. I’m working with, like, half a chub. Honestly, I think I could do better squeezing one off to The L Word on mute. I think you should probably go home. Thanks anyway, baby-doll. You were a real sport. I think it’s subsided a little–Oh, there it goes again. Yeah, that’s real hot and sticky, and very much not in the way I wanted.
Until next time, my sweet.
-DH
