Quote:
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Originally Posted by Protoclown
Quote:
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Originally Posted by Royal Tenenbaum
Vaginas smell and tastes very good.  Not melon, but just as good. |
Wow. Maybe you can tell us all about the time you- |
THE YEAR WAS 2002 AND A HALF, I was wearing a spanky new red suit and a candycane-colored tie tied in a half-hearted attempt at a windsor knot. My underwear had not changed for the past two days but judging from the smell, it could stand the test of time for a little while longer. I had trimmed the hamster to provide for some mediterranneanesque chest hair to puff out of my open collar shirt. It was only when I was well on my way to the local polka bar to enjoy a night on the town when I realized I was wearing sandals instead of my regular square-toed dancing shoes. It would have to do. The moment I stepped into the room and heard the delightful tones of "I just want to polka" bounce down from the stage, I knew in my heart of hearts this would be a night to remember. And as my eyes scanned the bar for potential hotties, I was not disappointed. A comely, rather handsome woman sat on a groaning barstool, emptying one great beerstein after another. She was big, with well-developed knuckles and a charming growth of curly black hair on her forearms. A quick, mischievous peek at her ankles confirmed my expectations: golf socks. I had to grab hold of the bar's signature moosehead, Tall Wally, to prevent from fainting on the spot. At long last, here was my dream woman. Knowing full well that any of the chaps in this room would pounce the moment they laid eyes on her, I moved in for the kill. This beauty was MINE! I nonchalantly shifted onto the empty stool next to her and ordered a moosemilk with a side of moose cheese in moose mousse. While I downed one helping after another, I made frantic attempts at eyecontact with her. Unfortunately, it was hard to tell since her right eye was glass. I finally gathered the courage to give it all or nothing. "Excuse me, miss." I said hoarsely. She turned her head to me and absently brushed at her mustache. The whispery, bristly sounds, like sandpaper caressing a block of wood, sent shivers down my spine. "What you want?" she grunted, her deep voice a melody of sunshine. "I'd hate to trouble you on a night so fine, but I just had to come over and tell you, you're the most beautiful woman I have ever seen." She cocked her good eye at me and bared a few teeth, testing my resolve. From the corner of my eye, I noticed one of her thick fists flexing and relaxing. This was the moment of truth. Finally, she turned to her beer again, apparently approving. "Is that so." she said. "Yes, yes it is." I continued eagerly. "In fact, if I may be so bold, I was wondering if you'd fancy a twirl." said I, pointing over my shoulder with my thumb. She contemplated this, her brow furrowing, giving her the appearance of a magnificent silverback gorilla for a moment. "Yeah, alright." she finally answered, and grabbed me by the wrist. A few minutes later, we were king and queen of the dancefloor as we twisted out an almost vulgar polkatango to the band's brilliant medley of classic Siberian folkpolkas. Entranced by the music and the sweet, sour smell of the rapidly darkening patches beneath my conquest's armpits, I ventured a hand onto the uncharted territories of her meaty thigh. Without flinching, she drew back a fist and landed me a spectacular punch in the kidneys. I hastily moved my hand back into international waters and as the band finished, I made an excuse to swiftly pop into the lavatories. Through a pulsing haze of pain, I watched the blue water of the bowl turn a bright shade of purple with my contribution, and felt like crying at the joy of meeting a lady so perfect. I cleaned myself up and rushed outside to ensure myself that this particular lady had not been stolen away by another barfly. But no. She had taken her place at the bar again, drowning her sweet self in alcohol once more. Sucking in a breath, I boldly inquired if she would like to join me at my parents' house, since the folks were gone for the weekend. Telling me "You'd better not try nothin'", she cordially accepted my invitation. Arriving in the comforts of my parental home, I sat her down with a crate of Coors to soothe her sweet thirst, wishing quietly that before this night was over, she would be thirsting for me! As a man of the world, I know exactly what the ladies like, and so I sensually slipped the AI extended version DVD into the slot. I sank into the couch next to her and prepared for what was to come. As the evening slowly grew old, my charming company grew gradually more affectionate towards me, as well as increasingly unstable, slipping into unconsciousness every few minutes and sometimes asking me who I was again. Finally, as the DVD started on its last spin around the spindle, we sank onto the mooseskin rug before the TV, and under the merciful light of Steven Spielberg's and Stanley Kubrick's masterpiece, she made me into a man.
AND THE NEXT THING YOU KNOW YOU ARE IN YOUR DARK ROOM WEEPING BITTER TEARS OF SORROW 
FatSatan 
Linear Mode
