An e-mail I received from a friend in Russia concerning the girl he's been seeing:
I'll take a picture of the butterscotch asap.
By the way, this is a really evil sweety. I'm beginning to feel like your attitude toward the yummies here IS in fact the right one.
Being given oral relief behind a garage, standing in human filth and syringes, the boyfriend calls. Butterscotch nearly answers the phone with a full mouth. Conversation ends with "Kiss you". Then back to work.
From my bad Russian I gathered that he wanted to know how her day had gone, while she had a need for a little bit more of his money with which to buy course books.
I wanted another date tonight, but sadly butterscotch's gone off to a "dacha" with "girlfriends", and I'm not invited.
I'm beginning to realize that what's good for the cuckold is good for the other cuckold.
No wonder you just got so sick of it.
1 comment:
From Russia With Love
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