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I scratched my balls by the pinch-rub technique.

  • I scratched my balls by the pinch-rub technique. It makes me go to the happy place. Then afterwards I smell my fingers. These private joys are all that sustain me because

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  • my ex-wife's inability to please anyone but the stockholders makes her too sleepy to spend any time down there. We only keep on this way because she's the only one I could ever let

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  • polish my wax fruit collection. I was particularly fond of the Red Delicious. He, on the other hand, like my kiwis. This was no surprise to me as she always

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  • switched genders between sentences. He liked my waxed kiwis because they were slippery yet stubbly. I told her that this was because

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  • I could grow my own kiwis. I had a farm up north, hired Smurfs to work there. They would breed my kiwis and rub them with Smurf milk so they would get all slippery-stubbly, then

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  • I could sell them at a much higher price. Stubble against the tongue with just the right amount of friction was a combination impossible to beat. But the new upstart had potential

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  • granted her her hormones had yet to kick in, but what she lacked in physicalness she more than made up for in zeal. Now if I could talk her into giving the koala a bath we would be

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  • in marsupial heaven. I told her that koalas are so sluggish because they're in a constant state of bliss. But this one smelled of pheromone and needed a good

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  • dose of eucalyptus to chill it the hell out. It was looking more awake than blissful and honestly a little ruttish. I wondered idly what koala sex would be like to see and blushed.

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  • I set that as my life's goal: to amass such a personal fortune that I would have my own Koala preserve with an observation station. Hot and cold Koala sex. This time I would win.

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