Why must the Monkey subject poor Timmy to the horrors of his variegated fluids? The gods themselves, they do not know.
"Go on. Say it. I won't let you touch them unless you say it. Ah - no you don't - you won't get anything that way. I still haven't heard those little words I want to hear.""Aargh, okay, okay, I PROMISE TO LEAVE MY BODY TO SCIENCE! I PROMISE!!"
"Shhhhhh, my little baby, shhhhhhhh," Annie cooed. "T'was just another horrible, horrible dream. Once a nursemaid, sweet boy, always a nursemaid. Now lay your little head down while Mommy gets comfy."
"Stop struggling gel! I could have you deported for not letting me feel yer norks. Don't you know who I am?"Prince Phillip was on the mend.
"...and my shiny heels, the red ones, those are for Terry, and the clip ons with the rhinestones mother so liked to Chris. And the garter nylons with the piping, Hank loved the smell of those - don't wash them before you hand them on..."Jeez! This could go on for days, Sally thought. I'm NOT keeping this damn legacy list for him: if he wanted his intimates dispersed he shoulda put them in the will! "Look here! You're not dying for God's sake!" she barked. But indeed J. Edgar Hoover WAS on his last leg. And Sally was keeping the red patent pumps for herself...
Lydia was a red hot and willing lover, but ever since the “accident” she had been dry as a desert bone, and his parts weren’t working so well, either. It took copious amounts of lubricant to even make penetration. The only problem now was - GETTING THE DAMN JAR UNSCREWED!!
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