Part 8 of 30
Self-Abuse September
What a hot day. Isn't September supposed to be halfway warm? I've been scouring the Big City for aluminum cans for money to email copies of today’s graphic to servicemen and prisoners for their personal use. I definitely have a humanitarian side, something I'm proud of. Because I honestly believe no matter what servicemen and prisoners have done, they still deserve to "get off" as much as the next guy. And I have to tell you, today's graphic is one of the best I’ve ever worked on, both for the simple utility of the thing and the long lasting psychological benefits of quality sexual objects of lust. I appreciate the photos some of you have sent in, your sweaty foreheads, mussed hair, and of course your upturned eyes rolled back.
I immediately saw the graphic's potential, and you have to believe as soon as I did I rushed it into service, and have found that it’s the perfect combination of lusty imagery and words of adoration, meant to send you over the edge time after time. Caution, trust me, you must never view this image while driving unless you've picked up a hitchhiker to help you steer. I ran it through testing and even an hour after test crashes, when you’re in a loaner car, it’s still hard to drive responsibly, the images even then coming to your mind in a picture perfect clarity, memories you can’t forget. I myself believe I’m a guy “who’s seen it all,” but even I stood tall through three straight hours of Mr. Pillow commercials, zero diminishing through even that. But attempting to drive, it was hard to find the stick shift, and only after a series of nine accidents, and several warnings from law enforcement -- picky picky picky -- did I finally get home
At the risk of embarrassing myself -- I’m not temperamentally given to public displays of lust -- let me touch on each lascivious presentation. “Do ya love me? I love U!” OK, that’s it for that one. “What a slice!” Looking at the cake and agreeing, indeed it is! Then there’s the satiny wedding gown and an absolute knockout’s sensuous purr to the reverend, making even a holy man reach for a hankie to daub his forehead, “I do! I do!” As for the little doll saying, “Yes, this is she!,” she knows she’s playing with fire. But that’s nothing like my favorite girl with props, a life sized clock and a serious grip on an erect pointer. “Guys, ohhhh guys, Is this how little ole me’s supposed to hold it? Does that feel … about right?” She ad libbed some of that. Then we’re back to adult supervisor Dr. Killjoy with a pointless statement (that I actually agree with), “Guys, words fail me.” Still, too bad they didn’t fail him three minutes ago, enough time for him to vamoose and let someone of a sexier persuasion to take his place, perhaps a purring Catwoman.
It’s funny how it works with captions. Captions are labels that set the tone, and long after the picture has faded from memory, you can still remember them, and the time she was reaching down to scratch your thigh -- persistent itch in mosquito season -- and accidentally veered somewhat off course and asked, possibly without irony, “Did I get it?” Oh, baby, baby you got it!
It's a hot day, off to take a quick bath. And this time in the nude!
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