An Anal Suck Fest

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One day there was some global warming and the average temperature of the earth’s near surface air and oceans increased most likely because of the increase in anthropogenic greenhouse gas concentrations. Some fetching young ladies in thong bikinis were drinking margaritas around a pool. Then there was some romance and an anal suck fest.

Suddenly, one of the fetching young ladies named Zelda cut a fart so bad it smelled like something had crawled up her butt and died. Zelda was a thin brunette in an orange Lycra Brazilian style mini bikini that offered scant coverage.

“Oh my gosh golly goodness,” said Zelda, “It’s Tuesday and I just cut a fart so bad it smelled like something crawled up my butt and died!”

“Oh golly G. gumdrops,” replied Jan; a thin redhead in a pink and white stripe Lycra mini bikini. “It is Tuesday and all that methane makes the global warming worse, bitch!”

“Fuck you, bitch!” yelled Zelda as she bent over and farted until Saturday.

The following Sunday, the global warming was worse and Zelda went to a Pancake restaurant with some guy she gave a blowjob to the night before.

The guy’s knob sack smelled cheesy and tasted like dank bile, salt and yeast. She slurped his dong as the guy pulled her ass cheeks so far apart that her sheriff’s badge became gaping fudge tunnel. When the guy did this, he was hit by a huge warm blast of dank fart. It smelled like something had crawled up Zelda’s ass and died. The guy’s name was Albi.

Zelda liked pancakes with strawberries, whipped cream and syrup on them. They came with a big sausage patty. Zelda had a black coffee and side of hash brown potatoes. She wondered if Albi would think about her while he jacked off. His sperm casino şirketleri was salty bitter.

Zelda knew one thing. In 1943 some guys jacked off in Cleveland before rock and roll. Now there is a rock and roll museum in Cleveland. Guys are always jacking off. It doesn’t matter if its 1943, or 2007. Most men don’t think Jesus is watching them when they jack off, but he is. Jesus even watches unbelievers jack off. All that wasted sperm makes Jesus cry. That’s all Jesus has time for; Crying over wasted sperm. Zelda knew that was why there was so much suffering in the world. That was why women drown their babies in bath tubs and guys shoot people. Because Jesus is too busy crying over wasted sperm to help.

Zelda looked up from her pancakes at Albi. “If you jack off, Jesus will cry. Will you think about me when you jack off?”

“Maybe” said Albi. “You sucked my dick like it was the 4th of July, and it’s November 18th.”

“When you jack off do you think about Jesus watching you and crying?” inquired Zelda.

“Sometimes” said Albi. “That’s why I take the little blue pill”

“Little blue pill What’s that?” asked Zelda

“Viagra” explained Albi

“You use Viagra to masturbate?” asked an astonished Zelda. The global warming made her hotter than she would have been if there were no global warming.

“Sure” explained Albi, “It gives me a stiff dick even if Jesus is watching me and crying. It’s improved my sex life. It makes me ejaculate more, harder, and further.”

Albi wondered if he would get to maw at Zelda’s musky mound later. Albi felt bad about the global warming, but he knew Jesus would get around to fixing it after he was done crying over the sperm wasted casino firmaları by masturbatory men.

“Sometimes, I’ll scratch my balls and take a quick whiff of my fingers and I can smell ammonia or goat cheese or both. That’s neither here nor there, but I’m an honest man first and a gentlemen second.” Explained Albi

“Last night your sack smelled more like dank bile, salt, yeast and Vieux Boulogne cheese.” offered Zelda. “Vieux Boulogne is a washed rind cheese produced by cows raised in the coastal pastures of Normandy. It’s aged 7 to 9 weeks and the rind is washed with beer. It’s a modern young cheese with a mellow flavor and gentle taste. It’s great with crusty bread and good beer. It’s quite pungent, so its mellow flavor comes as quite a surprise.”

Suddenly Zelda’s phone rang.

“Hello” said Zelda. “Oh hi Jan. I’m here with this guy named Albi. I sucked his stiff shlong last night until he shot a warm load of sploogy man chowder down my throat. His nut sack smelled like dank bile, salt, yeast and Vieux Boulogne cheese, but he’s cute.”

Zelda pouted and listened to Jan. Zelda’s pout turned into a sour “I don’t believe a word of this” look as she continued to listen to Jan.

“Oh Jan,” purred Zelda, “Don’t worry. I understand; I know you didn’t mean it when you said my flatulence smelled like something crawled up my ass and died. My poop hatch is like a dutch oven of rotting vegetation, air biscuits, flatus, cut cheese and quief. That particular fart was a real cheek flapper of gaseous intestinal by-products. I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire surrounding area had to be fumigated considering those lingering free-floating anal vapors I left behind. It sounded like I stepped on güvenilir casino a couple of huge ducks. It wasn’t very lady like of me.”

Zelda listened to Jan’s reply.

“Well” said Zelda, “I know she huge nipples. She says there’s only one kind of regular bra she can wear that she like that covers her nipples well. Well cry me a fucking river. And if you’re going to play the trumpet, keep the spit valve clean! Since a brass player is basically forcing air between the lips and into the mouthpiece in order to make a sound. Naturally a lot of spit gets through as well. The spit valve is made to release the moisture which collects inside the horn during playing. The rubber or cork gasket on the valve seals it tightly until it is time for the spit to be carefully and discretely disposed of. Some horns even have two or more spit valves! OK, Gotta go Jan.”

Suddenly, the global warming kicked in and there was a global warming parade. Everyone stopped jacking off and prayed to Jesus to end global warming at a previously agreed upon time. Synchronized simultaneous prayer to Jesus. Even Muslims, Hindus, Sikhs, atheists and Chinese communists prayed to Jesus and there was no more global warming. Albi wrote a poem called “Poodle Dove”.

Poodle Dove

Poodle dove oh Poodle dove
Where for art thou Poodle dove
Poodle dove oh Poodle dove
From my groin you chow shameless Poodle dove

Poodle dove oh Poodle dove
Quivering quim you be now Poodle dove
Poodle dove oh Poodle dove
Thou shalt rim the crusty bung
Oh bonny Poodle dove

Poodle dove oh Poodle dove
Nestled in musky loin wig funky Poodle dove
Poodle dove oh Poodle dove
Making my sausage groin real big oh bonny Poodle dove

Poodle dove oh Poodle dove
Where’s the Mekong Delta Poodle dove?
Poodle dove oh Poodle dove
That’s in Southeast Vietnam
Oh Poodle dove


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