Loneliness does strange things to the socialized man. It was like any other day. I arrived home from work around quarter to six as usual, only to find an empty fridge. Disappointed and hungry, I began to drink wine. And then more wine. Before I knew it I was dancing around my apartment. Jumping on couch cushions, flipping tables and chairs, all the while singing and having a good ol' time. Then the room got very dark so I lit a candle and the romance was overwhelming so I had some more red and started speaking words of love to no one in particular. Romance turned into lust and masturbation had grown stail months before, so I opened my mind. Explored my options, so to speak.
"Beautiful toaster" I said, "you do so much for me, you hot hunk of steel. You toast my bread, you make my morning" I said, "you make my morning so much better and yet I do so little for you. I never think of your needs, your wants, your desires."
I began stroking the toaster softly, sensually. The mood was set, and my pants had been off for hours. I wriggled in and penetrated.
"Beautiful toaster" I said, "you do so much for me, you hot hunk of steel. You toast my bread, you make my morning" I said, "you make my morning so much better and yet I do so little for you. I never think of your needs, your wants, your desires."
I began stroking the toaster softly, sensually. The mood was set, and my pants had been off for hours. I wriggled in and penetrated.
"Well" said the doctor, "I don't know what to tell you, Phil."
"I understand."
"Apply this at least twice a day. No more than six times. Cleaning will be painful, and rather difficult."
I understood.
"Why'd you do it Phil?"
I shrugged. He understood.
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