Sunday, December 09, 2007

Parakeet Water Bottle

Last night was crazy. Have you ever bruised the tip of your dick? It's a glory wound, trust me. After the eighth tequilla shot it's amazing that I found the strength to ejaculate four more times, but, all bragging aside, I'm THAT GOOD, and after the first three you start to fall into a rhythm, like Reggie Miller draining treys. It comes naturally. Excuse the pun.

But my stamina did not stop there. Oh, no. I woke up at eight o' clock this morning -- with wood, I might add -- determined to keep the faith. What can I say, you're sexy like that. Lithe like an Amazon and feisty like a tiger.

I realize that it's a Sunday, so pardon me if I'm out of line in mentioning that I received the best blowjob in the history of fellatio. Because your vagina was sore from friction. Like

Stephon Marbury: I'm gonna shoot the lights out.

Isiah Thomas: Pass it to Jamal.

Nate Robinson: I've never tried whale meat.


Which I respect. Right now my cock is blue, on the injured list. But if you were here right now I'd lick your pussy like a parakeet in a cage drinking water.


And while I realize that I should have my cute mug pasted on the front cover of every single women's periodical for infinity, for posterity, I cannot lie nor feel a gnawing sense of guilt for whispering "I want to break your ovaries" in your ear shortly before I came the fifth time. That was wrong.

Love hurts.

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