oooh, Betty....
Once, when I was but a mere slip of a boy, I am ashamed to admit that I was a frequent visitor to certain nameless Internet sites. You know the sort of thing, bandwagons to jump on, shameless exploitation of kittens, over enthusiastic use of poorly drawn cocks etc. As I sit here now, the IT director of a reputable and substantial group of companies, those days are well behind me.

Anyway, there was one such frequenter of said site that was extremely wierd. Each week, strangely after QOTW was posed to the eagerly awaiting masses, he found it necessary to indulge his secret shame.

His face would redden deeply as the blood vessels in his cheeks were gorged in the fury of oxygen being pumped around his rapidly excited body. Small beads of salty sweat formed on his furrowed brow, the expectation almost too much. The beads of salty anticipation would run down his cheek into the corner of his slightly open mouth so he could taste the intensity and pleasure of his own sick excitement. he new it was wrong, and one day he would be unmasked for his shame, but he just couldn't stop. For him, it was like a drug and he was a slave to his addiction.

His small, fat fingers would pump furiously at the keyboard, each keystroke becoming more frenzied as he got closer to his literary orgasm with every sylabal. Finaly, he would let out a stifled moan as he gripped the keyboard tight and furiously clicked the left mouse button in a desperate attemt to pleasure his electronic rodent like never before and transmit his creative juice to the world.

Spent, like a thousand sterotyped memes before him, he would slump back in the chair and slowly fill with satisfaction as he surveyed his seed that had been so pleasurable to release on the unsuspecting world.

All I can say of this sorry episode is, cheers Frank!
(Mong The Merciless Older not wiser, Mon 22 Jan 2007, 17:08, Reply)