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@ashdylan
“You’re so hot,” I told the Kimberly-Clark warehouse.
“I’m burning for you,” the warehouse begged.
I pulled out my lighter, barely fitting in my hand. I clicked it once, twice, pre-lighter fluid weeping from the tip. “IShow me where you want it.”
The warehouse spread open its doors. I lit one aisle, then two. “You feel so good I should pay you,” Kimberly-Clark moaned.
“Call me arson,” I said as the fire was close, “because I just set that arse on fire.”
Artemis II reentered Earth’s atmosphere. “You feel like home,” the spacecraft groaned, easing into the sky like a second skin.
“I’ve got you,” Houston said.
Earth wrapped its gravity around the ship’s back and tugged it closer.
“I’m coming!” Artemis II cried as its parachute deployed.
“Stay inside me,” Earth whispered, rocking the spaceship through its splashdown. “Let’s make some more astronauts.”
a group of conservatives is called a circle kirk
“Did I do good, Daddy?” ABC purred. “Did I stroke Daddy’s ego so good?”
“Yes,” America rasped. “Disney taught you well.”
ABC moaned at the praise. It would never be Daddy’s favorite. That would always be Fox. But I can make Daddy forget, ABC decided.
“I won’t show THIS on TV either,” ABC smirked, dropping to its knees and taking Daddy in its mouth. Taking Daddy so deep it thought of changing its name to America’s Best Cocksucker.
Put a romance author in charge of the economy. We know loads about ‘jobs.
I tipped the CDC’s chin up. “Who did this to you?”
“Why?” the CDC whispered. “What can you do about it?”
“I will fund you so good,” I groaned, clutching the CDC close, “I’ll make you release the vaccine you didn’t know you were holding.”
“Our love is forbidden,” the vaccine said, “but we belong together.”
I gripped the shot in my fist and notched it against my sensitive flesh. “Whose vaccine is this?”
“Yours, Daddy,” the vaccine moaned. The shot pierced me, filled me, then ejaculated into my body.
what if Taylor Swift getting engaged makes him so angry that it finally happens
“Come inside,” said the bookstore.
“With pleasure,” I groaned as I parted the doors and eased in. One leg, followed by two. I strolled to the back, pressing against a shelf, browsing so hard books were slicking me with ink.
“I’m going to spend!” I cried and I brought my books to the front fast and hard and the bookstore rang up my purchases at the same time and money spurted from my pocket all over the counter.
National Book Lovers Day is perfect for a book about a romance novel that comes to life and knows how to please a reader :)
MAHA (make art horny again)
“You’re so deliciously thick,” I told the Russian novel.
The book gasped when my fingers teased open its pretty pages. “Yes but I am Russian,” it said Russianly.
“I don’t care,” I groaned, knuckle-deep in its dense text. I withdrew my fingers, sucked the wet ink. “I like all kinds of books.”
“You are—how you say—nasty,” the book whimpered, wanting more.
“All good books are alike,” I rasped, holding the book open. “But all bad books come in their own way.” And I read it out all night long.
Elizabeth,
Murkowski voted for you to marry Mr Collins.
Darcy
“Wreck me,” America begged. “Destroy my Amerussy with that big beautiful bill.”
Congress fisted the bill and wedged between America’s legs. A whispered “yes” escaped America’s lips as its other lips were penetrated by the huge package.
“Tax cuts for the rich,” Congress growled as it thrust. “Millions losing healthcare.” Congress ground its hips, drilling deeper. “All for you.”
America clenched around the bill, coming apart as it screamed, “I’m so screwed!”
Elizabeth,
Is your mother still reading your mail?
Anyway, thank you for pegging me last night.
Darcy
“If you want this Golden Dome, it will cost you.” America tugged its missile defense system, stroking it harder.
“I’ll consider it.” Canada climbed on the bed, but crawled past the dome and crouched over America’s face. “If you consider this.”
Canada sank down, America’s tongue parting and devouring its puffy Canussy lips. Canada rode America’s face until it came hard.
“What if we were more than neighbors?” America said, panting
“I’ll consider it.” And Canada mounted America’s face again.
“Just try to pierce my Golden Dome,” America said.
“Challenge accepted,” Canada gruffly rasped, slipping a finger past the border. Then another.
“I expected a missle,” America whimpered, writhing at the swirling motion on its Americussy.
“Oh, I’ve got one,” Canada said, and it whipped out a log that would make Paul Bunyan blush.
“I love being on the bottom,” America said, setting its Dome aside, “and I don’t just mean geographically.”
“Mush!” Canada cried, riding America like the Iditarod.