Should I spread my kisses over you like cold hummus, letting the cold, mealy blend of garbanzos, tahini, garlic, lemon juice, cumin and hot peppers drip down your belly and over your gorgeous cunt like an avalanche of spicy lava whilst I apologize profusely for accidentally getting some in your eyes and causing them to water like your father's sprinkler system on that one dark morning I emerged from your bedroom clutching my ruined asshole and the bandoleer of elaborate iridescent dildoes gleaming in the starlight which we used to pleasure each other till we both erupted in the throes of passion like the ripe, red zits on an adolescent's chin as he squeezes them in front of the mirror and basks in the shameful delight of feeling them burst between his dirty fingernails while simultaneously realizing that he has forgotten an important trig test, but continues on popping them with increasing ardor as he silently decides to just screw the test and go on indulging his sinful habit, but then suddenly recognizes in a constellation of unpopped pimples on his left cheek a perfect right triangle and can't help calculating the sine, cosine and tangent and finally "getting it" and going on to ace that fucking test and just totally shove it in that Mrs. Peterson's stupid bitch face and then go on to major in math and make six figures working for a defense agency designing guidance systems for ICBMs used to search and destroy cocaine labs deep in the Colombian rain-forest.
So yeah, girl, I'm totally down to fuck tonight.
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