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Tuesday, October 02, 2007

Sexy, Sex-filled Sexfest

Hot LDS Action!

The following essay contains material not suited for younger readers. On the other hand, if your emotional age is over 17, this will probably seem childish. Comedy truly is the razor’s edge.

Get ready people, you are about to embark on one of the most erotic adventures of your life. Very soon you will be coming across passages with words like “zipper,” “undergarments,” and even “crotch.” Draw the curtains, turn off the phone, lock the door, and grab a mop and bucket for the clean-up because you are in for the ride of your life. This essay is going to make all of that internet porn you’ve been downloading look as boring and as mild as a visit from a couple of Mormon missionaries. All you have to do is drop your pants, sit back, and keep reading. Please ask the Mormon kids to leave at this time unless they are wearing approved safety goggles.

What makes my essay so radically different is that I’m not afraid to go out on a limb, to swim upstream, to take the path not taken, to explore virgin territory, if you’ll pardon the pun. Because of my unfashionable stance on this issue I have been the target of violent demonstrations around the world. I know that I am a rebel, an anarchist, and a lone wolf, but I have never sought popularity. I don’t care if I am criticized for taking this position but here it is: I happen to like women’s breasts. There, I said it. And furthermore, I am also a fan of the larger variety of these female organs. Go ahead and insult me for taking this heroic and daring position; I’m sure that I have been called worse things by better men. Not only do I enjoy boobs on a physical level but I plan on writing about them in this essay. If you are sickened by the prospect of reading an article which may contain two, or even three female breasts, then perhaps this isn’t the essay for you.

I cannot yet go into explicit detail as to the content of this essay; we must first weed out all of the minors and adults who aren’t ready for such raunchy, no-holds-barred depictions of human desire. Without offending the kids and the prudes who have not clicked off this page thus far, let me just say that I will be using a lot of obscene vocabulary in my descriptions, a lot of words that rhyme with “icky,” if you know what I mean, and I know that you do.

This essay will contain young girls, girls so young that they are “barely legal” as they say. In fact, not only am I employing girls who only just turned 18 today, but I am writing this essay on an airplane that is racing towards the international dateline, which, if we cross it, will render these birthday girls illegal. Give back the party favors, girls, I may be going to jail. In the top left corner of this page there is a Global Positioning System link to my private jet. Legal? Illegal? It’s too close to call at this stage. Perhaps we will cross the dateline and then go back. Legal territory, illegal territory, in, out, in, out, in, out, all day long. Would that still be some sort of crime? Even over international waters? If it isn’t, it should be. Use the GPS tracking icon provided as a further visual aid in your quest for a partner-free orgasm.

This is difficult to appreciate over the internet, but I didn’t write this essay on a computer. I used a tube of lipstick and a well-worn, silk G-string—a girl’s G-string, wise-ass. Granted, I had to retype the thing on my computer because my handwriting is terrible and the panties were really, really small, but that shouldn’t lessen the heat for the readers.

As a matter of fact, you won’t even have to read the essay. It will be read to you by a woman whose voice is so sexy that she makes Mae West’s signature, “Why don’t you come on up and see me sometime,” sound like a squawking parrot. You will practically be able to feel her breathing on you. We mean on a medically-approved erogenous zone, not there. What is wrong with you, you sick fuck? But hey, whatever works for you, I suppose. There are no inhibitions contained in this essay. Anything goes, and when I say anything, I mean anything! Except whatever the hell it is you are doing right now. Please stop that.

Notice: This essay has been discontinued per order of the Morals and Decency Division of Interpol. The author has been placed under arrest after a spirited chase through the red light district of Amsterdam in which the suspect was clad in only a towel and high heels.

Readers are advised to remove all traces of this essay from their computers. And wipe off your monitor; once that stuff dries it's impossible to get off.

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