The moment her odor entered my nose, my face lost its red hue. Her smell started asphyxiating me and hindering blood from reaching my brain. Did I leave the warmth of my sheets to smell her fart? She had surpassed my tolerance threshold.
The “It girl” does not exist anymore. In our 21st century, the “Face girl” stands as the crown that every attention-seeking female raves
I watch porn. The type that involves colossal 15-inch churros glossing with sugar that thrusts into the dulcet caramel dip.
It seems that when we are not distracted or dying from the bubonic plague, we are creating our own diseases.