Strap-on Sex and the Single Girl

Miro:

Program 'eh, now that sounds ominous Your plans for me sound hideous Negotiating will not come to pass For there will be no party in my ass And last I looked you were not androgynous

"Fuck all this silly speaking in limericks!" I blurted, and then I approached Miro and whispered something in his ear. He smiled and nodded.

Miro:

Yes, I think I will bend over and take your fake dick It's not like I'm getting it up the ass with a real prick And don't forget what you promised me One thousand blowjobs all for free And all the sweet pussy I want to lick

An hour later Tiff and Marjolein had to practically carry Miro out of the studio.

* * *

Chris called me the next day from work at the architectural firm. "Sarah, everybody in the office is asking me why I'm sitting on a donut cushion. I am so fucking embarrassed."

"Bro, remember when George Brett was famous for hemorrhoids until that pine tar on the bat incident?"

"Sis, that ain't pine tar on my bat--it's pussy juice--yours."

"Well, it must be dry by now. Do you want some that's hot and wet?"

"Well, sure I do, Sis!"

"Okay, I'll be right over to your office. It's almost time for lunch."

"I think I'd like a furburger, Sis."

"And I'll slurp a salami."

"I'll make the tuna melt," he added.

"Should I bring the strap-on, Chris?"

"Hell yes!"

* * *

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