Real girls are so overrated.
They’re always trying to play with your head with teasers like “Your restraining order says 100 feet” or “Stand back I have mace.” What’s up with the mind games? What you need is a simple girl. A sweet young thing from the land of perpetual spring break.
A co-ed with butt cheeks like twin scoops of vanilla ice cream.
"Hsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss."
Now she awaits you silently on your bed nestled safely in her cardboard box. Only $49.95. Score!
You smile inwardly and slowly tiptoe into your bedroom, peering through your fingers in a little game of peek-a-boo. You’re spontaneous like that. A real fun guy. You know she wants it just as bad as you do but she barely makes a sound. You’ll have to punish her later for playing hard to get.
Your erection is raging with an insistence you can’t deny. You unzip your fly and with one free hand you tear open the lid. Go ahead, take her by her curiously Kewpie-doll like hair and show her who’s boss! Now you will reveal your true love, your heart’s true companion and come face to face with….
Well I’ll be. It’s your 8th grade Science teacher, Miss Hardee!
Nobody will know but you. (And your dead Grandmother who watches everything.)
Her face is still frozen in perpetual horror from that time she caught you masturbating in lab. Time hasn’t changed her a bit. And after all these years here you are again, weeping softly while you clutch your limp carrot for dear life.
Miss Hardee would like to know if you memorized your periodic tables, and if you’d like to sample her 3 lifelike holes.
Any questions? Now move along, people. There’s nothing left to see here.
