 What I did over the weekend by Mort I spent my day like I spend most of my free days: at the botanical gardens. The gardener Ulga -- her foul hygine was only surpassed by her gardening prowess -- asked if flowers reminded me of women's parts. |
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 I replied that I had never actually had the chance to view a woman's 'private region'. She laughed and dragged me heavily to the shadows behind the potting shed. I stood, my mouth agape, as she lifted up her rough skirt and showed me beneath. 'First you must rid me of my pests.' she said. I grimaced as I plucked mites one by one from their hairy nest, and squashed their heads between my fingers. |
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 I spent the rest of the weekend trying to coax a family of apes out of her ass. |
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