M
Montiquish
Guest
How dare you take advantage of my body. You tempted me with forbidden fruit, your body displayed like a plump fruit bowl on an ornate mahogany table, ready for me to sink my teeth in. When I moved in, taking care to advance as quickly as polite social standards would allow, you trudged the dividing distance in a bill like rampage, your genetilia literally swinging side to side. The manic grin on your face would be enough to scare a corpse back to life. As I swept aside an onlooker, fooling standing with his mouth agape, I tried to bolt for the door, but you moved with borrow speed, on the breath of some pagan god of pleasure. You were on top of me, my flailing arms launching the punch bowl in a glorious arc across the room, propelled from the momentum transferred from your body in flight. The injuries sustained on impact could never compare to the psychological trauma I felt as you stripped me of my clothing, dignity, and virginty faster than the fat man who sat down too fast. I was left broken, a husk, a mockery of the community because of the frank elaborations of those who just didn't understand the situation on all its dire complexity.
I have come to you today to announce that your tyranny of my own body no long holds government in my life. I have transcends to the ninth level of heaven, and have become enlightened far beyond any mortal. I have she'd my defiled body, and with it my sins. Therefore I request readmittance into sythe so I can just play runescape again, and pretend I didn't have my childhood ripped so vigorously from me.
That is all.
I have come to you today to announce that your tyranny of my own body no long holds government in my life. I have transcends to the ninth level of heaven, and have become enlightened far beyond any mortal. I have she'd my defiled body, and with it my sins. Therefore I request readmittance into sythe so I can just play runescape again, and pretend I didn't have my childhood ripped so vigorously from me.
That is all.
