Hello lovely ladies!
Here I am, the answer to your dreams. Sure, your dreams might not have included the little gold signet ring, but I already took off my ID bracelet and my Italian horn pendant and I just don't feel hot without some bling.
Do my broad, manly shoulders excite you? Are you turned on by my come-hither look? Do you like the fact I have more hair around my belly button than I have on my chest? Sorry about that, but the razor went dull before I even finished my balls.
Because, my love, this is how I will greet you when you come home from work: totally naked, with the excitement in my penis nearly matched by the ardor in my eyes. I'll ply you with champagne -- well, okay, I'm just finishing the last of it, but we don't need alcohol, do we darling? -- and then make sweet love to you. Since I'm already nude, it won't require any irritating pauses to remove my thong or Hammer pants. Sure, my hair is a tenuous construction perched atop my head, and I can't work up a sweat or it'll collapse like cotton candy, but I won't complain or pause to check it in the mirror as long as we keep the exertion level down.
Maybe my windswept locks are the male equivalent of Farrah Fawcett-Majors, and maybe my moustache makes you think of various Yankees circa 1972. Maybe the hand perched on the hip says "Hey, girlfriend!" and maybe I'm holding my glass the way most men hold their penises when they're pleasuring themselves. But my muscular, glistening body speaks of nothing but sex sex sex, and I long to share that conversation with you.
Because, darling, I want you . . . almost as much as you want me. After a few hours of being caressed in my arms, all your worries will be history. You'll forget about that dreary, dead-end job you endure so you can afford outcall hunks like me. You'll forget about meeting a real man instead of a Playgirl fantasy figure who calls his boyfriend the second you fall asleep.
And maybe you'll even forget that I used up all the baby oil, unless we forget to set out rubber sheets everywhere I sit down.
2 comments:
Oh, gee, how my lady lumps quiver.
Be honest: your lady lumps were already quivering, right?
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