His thick hands grabbed my breasts,and I

His thick hands grabbed my breasts,and I gasped in desire.The moon was still high(and so was I,but I think it was real) when I felt him slide into me,standing on the beach sand.

He seemed taller. His hands seemed meatier. In the throws of sex on the beach of Cabo I realized I was having sex on the beach with the wrong man. I tried to stop, I swear, but

to tell you the truth, the guy beat the competition meaty hands down. I mean, monogamy is all very well when you're flowing along day-to-day routine, but the pheromones really

caused his hands to resemble animal carcass and broke down the inhibitions that normally keep you and I from fornicating freely in the park at the drop of a vegetable hat.

She crammed her vegetable hat more firmly on her head and eyed him warily. "Gosh, is that the time!" she said jumping up from the park bench. He followed her to the band stand

ing next to the fountain. What was Aerosmith doing here in the park? Stephen Tyler noticed her distress at being followed. "Walk this way!" he said. "Oh, and...cool hat!" She made

a feeble gesture of appreciation, but appreciated the attention. She quickened her pace; her stalker also did. Then she noticed the uranium-tipped nunchaku hanging from a branch...

scenarios flashed through her head; she could grab the uranium-tipped nunchaku and fight; she could run; she could try a joke... but did her stalker even have a sense of humor? She

ripped a fat toot by accident but swore her hooded pursuer smirked. Without skipping a beat Janelle sprung into her 2015 sex-positive open mic routine. "But white people be like,

We all are mind control slaves and technology puts us in a trance." Sadly, Janelle was correct. The zombies pranced like horses around the room, Folding stories as they drank.