Talk:That time a guy fucked my wife in the parking lot of a Trader Joe's
That day I died a guy traded my fucking wife’s insides for Joe Parker’s lot. This was my epiphany.
So there I was[edit source]
It couldn’t have been any later than 2:00. In the morning. My orifices smelled of old men, white and wiping sweat from their crinkled foreheads. Ol’ Bob said “So, how did you enjoy it?” What could I say other than “Fantastic.” My most precious portal was defiled by someone that could easily be the third son of Abraham, a fresh wound dripping blood from the base of my Adam’s apple. “Do you like your apples with skin or peeled?” he said, leering from behind the smoke of a Camel Light.
Who really eats the skin anyway?
Then I put the book down[edit source]
Young men getting raped by their 60-something uncle does not interest me. Neither do the people that get off on this. What interests me is simple. It’s ancient China. I am the Emperor. In my chamber relaxes a languid Diao Chan.
“You look exhausted.”
And why wouldn’t I be. The land is in chaos. My own advisors secretly plot my demise. Save my riches and title, I have nothing. Nothing, that is, other than my mistress’ cum-stained face.
“Seven thousand times.”
“What?” she says.
“I will cum in your face seven thousand times.”
“A bold statement from a little boy working on number two.”
Then my wife walked in[edit source]
“Finished with your little game yet? Then how about helping me put these groceries away?”
There was an odd dark spot in the crotch area of her jeans. I imagined how possibly some condensation from the organic carrots she just brought back may have leaked onto her lap through the grocery bag. A grocery bag she apparently put on her lap during her drive home in our 5-seater car. Seeping right through the plastic bags. Plastic. Can you really even recycle that shit? Fucking earth killer.
That night I put my hand on the back of her thigh and slowly worked my way up.
“Somebody’s got work tomorrow, you know…”
She removed my hand and placed it on her hipbone. Probably the least erotic spot I could imagine at this moment.
“Yeah. Good night.”
I took that hand and caressed old Jack’s glass exterior. So warm and yielding to my advances. Just one more swig. Three? Four? Five? I can’t remember. Let’s just say three times is the charm. I’m gonna sleep like a baby tonight, you two-bit whore.
Award[edit source]
VFD or VFF? Tricky one. Whoremonal 03:37, 23 March 2009 (UTC)
- VFF, eh? Vote for FUCK YOU? Inebriated 03:50, 23 March 2009 (UTC)
- No...no, I meant whatever the featuring one is called. I'm new here. Whoremonal 03:55, 23 March 2009 (UTC)
- I vote for the talk page on Vote for Fuckyou. --S0.S0S.0S.0S0 06:08, 23 March 2009 (UTC)