Bitches, these legs are closed
This evening I was out and about with society's upper class, wining, dining, fitching. During my travels I met up with two French exchange girls. The act was laid down and it wasn't long before these bitches were hooked. Not an uncommon occurrence these days, it's rare for me not to leave without the phone number or panties of a desired girl. Smooth as ice I played the friends off against one another; it was awesome. Before long, these two girls who had developed a friendship while living here, suddenly turned on each other like cats, vying for my attention with stories while pushing the other down with snide comments. Sorry
posted by Jasper at 6:35 am
5 Comments:
Numbers, not panites. I wanted neither.
I want to see them roll over faster than France did on June 22nd 1940!
Haha yeah, they're all part of the French psyche, or what I collectively refer to as "The Pussy Posse".
Although I will credit France's staunch nationalism during that period, thank you very much Arthur de Gobineau's "An Essay on the Inequality of the Human Races"; truly great work.
I don't touch fuglies. I do however relish the thought that they will be agonising over why I haven't called them; further, that the ensuing game of cat and mouse that will go on between them to determine if I called the other, will be glorious.
I wouldn't have hit that either.
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