In honor of Valentine's day, which is relentlessly approaching, I thought I'd share a bit of my romantic history:
Back when I was in college, the arty-farty girl that I was dating, just for the sheer perversity of fucking during a Disney movie, popped Beauty and the Beast into the VCR. Surprisingly enough, everything progressed nicely bonking-wise until, during one of the musical numbers, I started singing in a bad French accent:
Touch...my...breast.
Touch my breast.
Put my nipples to zee test.
Try zee left one: it's delicious!
Try zee cootchie: smells of fishes!
Ladies, as a man of some experience, let me offer you a pointer: It's difficult for your fellow to maintain his manly concentration when you are alternately laughing hysterically and trying to beat him to death with a shoe.
Back when I was in college, the arty-farty girl that I was dating, just for the sheer perversity of fucking during a Disney movie, popped Beauty and the Beast into the VCR. Surprisingly enough, everything progressed nicely bonking-wise until, during one of the musical numbers, I started singing in a bad French accent:
Touch...my...breast.
Touch my breast.
Put my nipples to zee test.
Try zee left one: it's delicious!
Try zee cootchie: smells of fishes!
Ladies, as a man of some experience, let me offer you a pointer: It's difficult for your fellow to maintain his manly concentration when you are alternately laughing hysterically and trying to beat him to death with a shoe.
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