I want three dollar tree crayons, a stale bag of chips, mini wheats, Christmas lights, and a princess dress to be involved in the erotica.
oh, and I want Michael Scott to be involved.
Silk rustled in the corner. Dust settled in the morning sunbeams, falling onto his perfect breast…. He’s so pretty when he’s faithful to me. What a night that was. What a night.
It all started as I was waiting in line at the local Rite Aid. I had a bag of mini wheats in my hand, and my dress rustled my soft, buzzing legs. Why were they buzzing? I actually have no idea. They just were. Maybe that’s why I was at Rite Aid in line.
A man coughed.
Cashiers chewed their gum.
Children shrieked.
I noticed it, but I also somehow didn’t. It was like I was there, but also not there…
Someone tapped me on the shoulder from behind.
“Excuse me, this store is occupied, you’re going to have to leave,” the hunky lifeguard told me.
“Oh, okay… I’m sorry to intrude,” I said, careful not to expose my three tongues to the strobe effect of the Christmas lights on his thong.
I left the Rite Aid and walked over to a Dollar Tree next door. I know what I needed. It was not a product, not any thing. I needed a man. I needed a man who knew how to pleasure a person such as myself. I needed love…. Dammit, I’m high on lust.
Aside from sex, I needed some things from the dollar tree. I had to leave my mini wheats back at Rite Aid because of the irresistibly sexy hunky lifeguard who kicked me out. Mmm… toasty….
Anyways, I walked down the closest aisle and picked up three crayons off the ground.
What the fuck are these? I thought to myself, then went back in time, repeated the action, but didn’t think that.
Walking to the cashier, I noticed he was a hunky man dressed in red velvet with a red velvet cap. This man will have a yacht someday, I can smell it. He was bonerific.
“Hi, I’m date Mike, nice to meet me…. how do you like your eggs in the morning?” He asked.
I was speechless. Absolutely speechless. The man exudes sex….
“I want to go to there…” I mumbled.
“What’s that?” His perfect lips got out, backed by what I assume is his one tongue. One tongue fit enough to pleasure a person like myself.
“Please please please pretty please have sex with me.”
“K.”
Fast-forwards to two hours later. I’m at his condo, munching on a stale bag of chips, my signature pre-sex item. He comes out of the kitchen dressed in a princess dress. I didn’t know I was attracted to princess dresses. Turns out, I’m really fucking turned on by princess dresses.
“TAKE ME!” I yell, ignorant of the open window.
“Got it boo.” He tells me. What lavish poetry, what perfect… everything.
He throws me on the couch, ripping my dress into a million little pieces. He starts to violently lick my scars and burns, remnants of the crash.
“Fuck, I had no idea you were an alien boy… this’ll be fun…” he says as my scars begin to sing their songs.
At this point my tongues are fighting each other over which one gets to enter his nostril. Eventually, Jim wins, so I decide to let her slither out, stretching, stretching over to his face, which is down by my belly. Jim enters his nostrils, and I kid you not, his princess dress literally explodes as his muscles clench. It explodes. Fire and everything.
As soon as the fire dissipates seconds later, I get a chance to fully appreciate the magical wasteland that is his body…. He’s tattooed on his right buttocks, a subtle but sexy Mickey Mouse having semi consensual intercourse with a shopping cart, but hey, silence is consent, right? He’s still sucking away at my scars and burns, but then he looks at me in my eye. He crawls up to my eye and gently places his warm, throbbing, veiny, large finger on it. Then he enters my eye…. I can feel it’s every move, and my eye has been wet for quite some time. Out…. in… out… in…
“Do you like my pinky?” He asks.
“Y-yes… p-please keep d-doing this…” my triangular belly button undulates.
Eventually, his finger releases the blue fluid known to lovers as Wortav. It’s warm, but also freezing cold. It runs around in my eye and I’m given a vague yet hallucinating experience in the space of a sixteenth of a millisecond. Ships fly overhead. The world seems to fade. Michael does not fade. Michael only intensifies… Michael is all that’s left. Michael is all that there ever will be.
“My love, you owe me about tree fiddy for this fuck.” The gentle cowboy tells me.
“I think there’s a checkbook in my cock.” I say, opening the compartment in my phallus. “Eh, somewhere in here… ah! There it is.”
I write him a check, and he spends the night swaddled in the web I strung around him. Not like he had a choice. When he woke up I decided to expose his perfect breast to the sunlight, and soon after I ate him whole.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/91flgx/friend_had_requests