From our resident poet. Read these and get into the mood.
Our relationship reminds me of a water slide. Your wild, free spirit is the water beneath my back - guiding me through sharp chutes and turns, gently accelerating me, widening my smile all along, and then finally, launching me, exhilaratingly into a pool, where, still swimming over to the ladder having just rode the same water slide, are the other guys you have fucked.
Our love pours from each other like the golden semen of fornicating doves.
Your essence is no better than PBR. yet you know my weakness for PBR. I drink it heavily, deeply. I see you. I drink one more. Now we may kiss.
Take that towel off. It hides your beautiful body beneath. And besides, it is an old, eroded towel - unfit for even a dog. My grandfather used it, and even then it was bad. Truly, one of the worst towels. by any other name would smell as bad.
Seven years ago we went to a school dance. Your father told me never to lay a hand on you. But now he is dead. Let us make love.
My lady, take a gander at my dick, for I am Allied Security.
Sunscreen itself cannot protect me from your radiance. Especially not Banana Boat.
I would never trade you for a pack of cigarettes. Nor a jar of change or even a can of the finest ravioli. No box of Triskets could ever cause me to trade you away.
If these walls could speak, they would tell us about your last 10 Valentine's Days: your agony, your wild masturbation in the corner.
