Halloween. There she stood. She was with a dweeb in a Godzilla t-shirt with matching slippers. She wore a Blackhawks jersey like a minidress, and had knee high black leather boots. Her fishnets stockings were torn. As she leaned in to get a plate of meatballs, I caught her eye. "I love Godzilla" I told her. "I love how in
The Godzilla Mothra Letters he says "No, I am not sad to be a monster. Somebody has to do it. We are part of a fucked up world's fucked up poetry." She turned to me with a meatball protruding from her cherry red lips. Her eyebrows arched inquisitively. "Mmmmmm?" she asked. She didn't have to ask twice. I took her meatball, and she included her tongue free of charge. I pulled her close to me and in the same motion my hands moved to her sweet derriere. I noticed she wasn't wearing any underwear. She was giggling and pulled me to a couch in a dark corner. She flew backward, laughing, as her Blackhawks jersey slipped up to her waist, revealing her sex redolent portal of venus. "Go on!" She yelled. ( The Wolves had started their finale "Porn Again Christian")
I lapped at her for what seemed like a suspension of time, a cosmic explosion of grace with spiraling star pillars erupting from a blue hot gas cloud. She arched like a supernova. I think she screamed, but the ecstacy was hitting pretty hard, so I couldn't be sure.
My favorite holiday.....
Something I though Forkboy could relate to .
BOOYAH!