Why I Like “Cock”
Awestruck she stared at his turgid, swollen member, his proudly outthrust manhood, throbbing with a questing, pulsing rhythm older than time. How could her untried virginal core hold even the tip of so noble a manroot? Unbidden her throat emitted a tiny squeak of terror.
His questing hand sought out the slick, molten moistness of her tight little honeypot. Soon his sword would pierce her final defenses, the last barriers of her sacred innocence, and probe her hidden treasures. Lord Rodney Shaftington, Duke of Ravenscliff, Regency Spy-Soldier-Lord extraordinaire, prepared to storm the citadel of passion.
Manroots and honeypots and citadels, oh my!!!
Oh, Susan just did this so much better...
Oh, Do It Already
Cayenne stared up into the coal dark eyes of Drako. Soon they would be joined as man and woman had since time immemorial. They would begin the dance of love, a rhythm as ancient as the earth, as sacred as the tides, as…
“Calm yourself, my spicy one,” Drako mumbled. “There will be pain—and then there will only be the ecstasy of bliss. Yes, even this first time.”
“Do it, my strong gorgeous hero of a man,” she whispered. She gasped as Drako’s manroot penetrated her love grotto, a dragon in a dark cave. And breathing such sweet fire!
cheering and throwing confetti for Susan and Amy
Bravo! BRAVISSIMO!
The Case of the Putrid Procedural
Officer Flynn felt his gorge rise and he left his steak dinner in the gutter as he came upon the nubile teenaged corpse, a blonde angel with injuries he thought he had left in the verdant hell that was the Mekong Delta. Why was it always the pretty ones....she wasn’t that much older than his own daughter, Kathleen, who had become a stranger with either the phone stuck to her ear or a bong stuck in her mouth. Just another little girl looking for trouble, but this girl? Actually found it.
a blonde angel with injuries he thought he had left in the verdant hell that was the Mekong Delta
erika, close, but yours is still pretty good in other spots. You need to really try hard if you want to genuinely stink.
Maybe something like "Just another hot potato, looking for a hot date with trouble" at the end?
Guess I've been reading only *good* mysteries lately. mostly this is a good thing.
Let's not forget timeless children's literature:
Booblebear Explains It All For You
Horny Owl had to visit his sick mother. Booblebear was teaching the Sunday School lesson for the week. Booblebear did his best to answer questions according to the Big Book.
“Why is the sky blue, Booblebear?”
“Because God’s favorite color is blue, Christopher Bobbett.”
“Why is water so wet, Booblebear?”
“As the psalms tell us, Figger, so that we can slake our thirst and still stay pure as God intends us to.”
“Hey, Booblebear, where do babies come from?”
“Well, Sniglet, when a mommy’s honeypot and a daddy’s manroot find a cozy little citadel...”
