“Stop Crouching”
tie-dye crocs- witnessed his mother commit adultery in the back seat
- at a depth of 500 feet
- wasn’t in his mouth very long
- hands of a stranger
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“Stop crouching,” Dr Ferguson said. “It’s about as erotic as a pair of tie-dye crocs.”
The sweet warmth permeating my body felt extremely erotic. I knew it must be radiating off me, and it surprised me that Dr Ferguson couldn’t feel it, too. I felt like a man, like a sexual beast, and not at all like someone who once witnessed his mother commit adultery in the back seat of a private submarine at a depth of 500 feet.
I must not have stopped crouching, because Dr Ferguson sighed dramatically and joined me on the floor. As soon as she was close, I stuck out my tongue and licked her from navel to chin. “How’s that for erotic?” I said like Angela Tyrannosaure, my tongue thick with desire.
“Abort! Abort! He’s got the third slug!” a tinny voice cried from the ceiling.
I collapsed in slow motion, swimming through a flurry of sudden activity around me. Someone grabbed my head. “At least it wasn’t in his mouth very long,” that someone said as they wrestled with my tongue.
Behind me there was a pair of tugging sensations, and abruptly my skin felt cold and clammy, especially on my back. My eyes came into focus and I saw the trio of icicle slugs resting in the latex begloved hands of a stranger.
bonus points for using them in order