Her crotch was soothing, like Indonesian goat milk.

The smell of her upper lip resembled the pungent aroma of well-aged limburger; it tantalized my desperate nostrils.

Her bosom was disproportionately aggressive as the twins wrestled amongst each other in a sweaty feud of “which one shall conquer?”.

Her middle toe extended beyond its partners, presenting the impression of a hairy aggressive squirrel that naturally intended to offend you.

The crust upon her weenus diligently hunted and gathered all forms of dryness to attack its closest victim.

She looked into my eyes with her ghastly stare and I knew from that moment that she had me at “hello”.

I faltered.


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