Her eyes grab you by the chin, nails piercing your skin, screaming: “Hey! Hey you! Fucker! Look over here. Focus! We’re up here. Look at us! Get lost in us.”
Her soft voice flutters its way on fairy wings to your eardrums, whispering: “Hear me now, mysterious stranger. Hear me now, follow me to the end of the world. Come with me.”
Her body language on the basketball court make me wonder if somebody shoved a broomstick up her pooper and broke it off. But if you let that image linger for just a second too long, of she goes with your precious ball, mocking your weakness. She’s unforgiving, quick and so soft to bump in to.
A month or two ago I saw her in a sea of women at a bar. It was my only chance to unleash a broadside volley of my 10 inch cannons. Plunge her into a wet abyss. Loot her plentiful booty and give her a watery grave after walking my plank. Alas, she veered from her course and sailed her beautiful vessel into the open ocean with bulging sails. That day I left my testicles in my other pants and the sight of the rear of her vessel disappearing into the distance has frightened me ever since.
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“How do you like your women?”
“Just the way I like my coffee.”
“Black with lots of sugar and cream?”
“No, you perv. Just one cup before I get to work.”