Blooball vol. 6
>From fln2jes@cabell.vcu.edu Mon Jul 19 12:23:43 1993
Date: Mon, 19 Jul 93 12:21:19 EDT
Subject: blueball #666
You've just walked out of everyone's favorite convenience store, sleepy-head, with thoughts of some of your old bitches on your mind. You had heard the rumors purported by your friend john on the mystical and hallucinatory effects of mixing chile picante con limon cornuts with blue nehi cream soda, and had decided to try for yourself. The vatican was performing tonight and the Holy Ghost had gotten you backstage passes. Two to be precise, one for you and one for your cutie. You get on the horn nad call up OGF (the cornuts are kicking like mad by now) and she accepts the offer to see Williamsburgs best techno/industrial band. You get to the show just as the Final Masquerade is finishing their set. OGF rubs accidentally against your arm with her perky, firm left breast sending chills down your nehi-numbed spine. The vatican busts wildly into their first tune, the omnipresent "Cream and Satan," a chilling commentary on life in the third-world countries of central america. OGF goes wild at this point, lifting her arms and dancing in typical techno-slut style. The strobe lights are throbbing in perfect time with the blood in your now-engorged member. OGF winks sweetly as she peels off her Bruton High letter jacket, revealing her lace encased boobs bouncing in time with "Town and Color." Oh, heavan and bliss you think as OGF kisses you while the two of you stand in line to receive the traditional communion offered at all Vatican shows. You see his noble holiness Pater Jonas offer your squeeze a hearty helping of Colt 45 pie, the Vatican interpretation of the body of Christ. OGF being the good little catholic she is doesn't even bat an eye as she goes back and receives communion another three times. Of course each time she gets a hearty swig of the blood of Jesus (DR. Pecker spiked with magnum). Ahhhh yeahhhhh, croons Filius Chappius as OGF pushes you to the corner, to a table, and finally pulls out your little man. She bobs in time to The Holy Ghost pounding out the rythm on the immense blue barrel. Incontent with oral sex, OGF decides to give you a real treat. Off comes the lace bra. She then proceeds to squeeze her milky white breasts around your quivering not-so-little man. As your saliva covered pecker pokes his head in and out of her cleavage a sound suddenly strikes you back to reality. A car horn is blaring and two rednecks are getting out of their truck to beat your ass. The last thing you see is the pavenment of jamestown road under your face as the attendant sleeps on peacefully.
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well, i guess this is good-bye...
john swart, one-half of mahn swoss, super- genius,
lover of hyphens, destroyer of galaxies
sweethart bent on
destruction
a lovable yet disturbed guy, oh well...
xxx xxx
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