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"I never could bring myself to massage feet.

  • "I never could bring myself to massage feet. That's why I got my first divorce." I said loudly. "What about the second?" Harold asked over the noise in the crowded bar we occupied.

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  • "Well, did I ever tell you about Jessica? She was a good wife, but never as compliant as I wished" Something in my eyes intimidated Harold. I started the story of the divorce:

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  • It all started when she discovered my sex dungeon.

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  • For a long time she had been fooled by the numerous "THIS IS NOT A SEX DUNGEON" signs I had pasted all over the door, but eventually she began to wonder. Then came the fateful day.

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  • The day when the beholder burst from the Sex Dungeon, squawking in bestial rage and firing magic beams from each of its many vagina-stalks. I dove behind the couch, speed-dialing

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  • Beholders-Begone. The folks from BB arrived in full MirrorSuit montage. But the Beholder had transformed Richard and Marty into giant walking penises already.

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  • So to be campy, they put on roller skates and went down Melrose. Marty got a cramp and Richard got a chance to use his newly acquired shiatsu energy moves, the Beholder

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  • was so proud of Richard! There was gonna be a full page spread in the yearbook for sure! Marty was not pleased. Always self-conscious about his legs, especially unshaven as they

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  • were. Marty studied the remnants of the Black Dynamite Chia Pet serum, then turned his attention to the Schick model-in-waiting. He vowed to usher Richard into the man club whether

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  • or not he had an even quantity of plums between his pockets. Marty and Richard coddled a long, secretive night of a relationship in that club, but Marty was just a goldminer.

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