"Hearts, out. My dick, in."
Boston, MA – I’ve been saying this all along, guys, but if you want to make a woman’s panties sop, you only need to follow my free advice. That’s right, free. Why am I giving away my proven and indisputable “Keys To Unlock The Mysterious Poontanna” for free? Well, if I can make one of our readers’ penis take a vacation in something warm and humid (like hopefully a female’s ass or pussy and not some gayers gross, hairy, over-used bum), then I’ve done my job. What’s the number one thing that pushes a female towards blowing her Yoga instructor while you sit home and watch the Bruins playoff game tonight? Hint: The Yoga Instructor is better looking than you. What is the only weapon you have in your artillery to prevent this from happening? Your stupid brain, which, until today, has been primarily used to absorb homerun highlights on SportsCenter, make tee times, and how to cover your tracks after jerking off. We’ve all been there. She walks in “Why was there lotion and tissues next to the oscillating fan in the living room, and don’t tell me you were working on your model airplane again.”
So, try as they might to play hard to get, here’s a little naughty sexting with Mrs. Munson for your reading enjoyment. Something tells me she’ll be skipping Yoga tonight. Feel free to cut and paste some of my texting gold into your own rapidly changing sex life. You’re welcome.
Martin: This is me right now: 8=======D
Wife: you’re sick
Martin: you love it
Wife: no I don’t
Martin: here’s me and you. 8=======D - - - ~(:
Wife: Forget it
Martin: You better watch your tone, or I’ll get one of those surgeries that adds more equal signs so it’s like this 8===========================D, just like Kobe Bryant
Wife: I’m hanging up
Martin: You can’t hang up on text
Wife: smartass
Martin: Uh-oh, it’s angry now 8==========================================D
(to be continued)
