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“He’s looking to add his banana to that fruit salad.” I blink. “What?” “You know, batter-dipping the corn dog. Creaming your twinkie,” she says, a faint smile curling on her lips is the only inclination that she’s not serious. I’m stunned silent for a second, so she continues, “Bringing the al dente noodle to the spaghetti house.” Slapping a hand over her mouth, I scrunch my nose. “Wouldn’t al dente make it limp?”
girthy tube
puffy meat curtain.
mud dungeon
hot box
stink wrinkle
muff pie.”
tuna ...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
stench trench.
crown of His Majesty
pleasure button
lead pipe
twat waffle
gentlemen’s relish
womb cannon
man egg