(The rutabaga, by the way, is living proof that two wrongs don't make a right.)
The word odor was bolded in my previous entry, but I'm not going to make a stink about it.
If you get into bed with your gf and you detect a fishy odor, don't make a stink about it; it's just decaying sperm cells.The word odor was bolded in my previous entry, but I'm not going to make a stink about it.
Do I detect a hint of arousal? Nostrils flaring, lips slightly parted, eyes half-lidded and, yes, I can see the fingers in her lap are barely but definitely slowly, rythmically ...probing. My god! She's randy! And in church!
Patrick went to church on Saturday afternoon to confess his sins. Once inside the confessional, he admitted that he had slept with a woman not his wife. "Who is she?" demanded the priest. "No way, Father," declared Patrick; "I'm keeping her for myself!"
When he finally got her knickers down, he realized she'd thrown him a curve ball. Two, in fact.
He was barely out of knickers when he first got into hers.
"First" is the initial stage of seduction, as in "he got to first base with her, but she threw him out when he went for second."
So … JFK's middle initial actually stands for "Fitzgerald"?
Pet, or, more properly, P.E.T., stands for "Playful Erotic Techniques," a new, lighthearted and fun approach to intimate relations now being offered at select YM/WCAs.
The two ladies, both switches, grumbled often about how they were tired of always being scissors in their bedroom, but being the paper sounded either boring or downright terrifying, so neither was willing to risk it.
Switches get stitches.
As senior pranks go, convincing so many people to go nude under their graduation gowns, which were sewn with heat-dissolving stitches, was an instant classic.
???????
The Dean of Student Affairs urged the Sororities and Fraternities to forego any pranks that might result in accidental or unintentional intromission.
My decision to forgo undergarments for the company picnic proved ill-advised when I spilled an entire glass of lemonade on my white blouse.
Her face burned with a mix of shame and lust as the lemonade turned her blouse transparent, and her office crush stared at her exposure and quipped, "I see someone needs their lemons squeezed."
His carnal motives were transparent as he approached the shy and vulnerable wallflower at the Freshman Ball.
Fed up with being a wallflower, I unbuttoned the top two buttons of my party dress.
"Take a deep breath," he said, and the expansion of her chest behind her double-Ds was enough to pop the middle four buttons of her blouse right off.
Are you presenting new evidence for the metric expansion of the universe, or are you just happy to see me?