Watching a TV add for a micro-burger, I wandered how they dared to describe the product as "something tasty in a box!" I estimate that the box would be tastier, and contain more goodness, than the rather sad and soggy meat in a bun it contained. I would much rather eat the box, I said to myself, smiling at the intended double meaning.
Oh yes, I would much rather feast on: a Crack, a Gash, A Minge, a Mary, a Love Cave or Tunnel, a Moist Centre, a Pussy, a Kitty, a Snatch, or a Yoni. So many names (and I am sure many, many more) for the feast I would prefer to be devouring.
There is something sad, and unappetizing in the thought of a piece of soggy meat in a box. A meal more likely to get you betrayed, than laid; and not blown, but blown out! Where is the pleasure in a thing that is prepared and consumed, and more importantly forgotten, in seconds?
Without hesitation, or reservation, I would rather be licking your Honey Pot than dining at any three star restaurant. Better still, I would feel your hands clutching my head, urging me to further your pleasure, as I am steadily engulfed by your tides of ecstasy. Let us have more unreserved, quality dining. The kind where time is taken in savouring its execution, and exquisite memories linger.
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bix
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