On bapping the unfamiliar penises with a rolled-up newspaper: today's TERRIBLE advice
FB’s “TERRIBLE advice” group births GLORIOUS creative chaos. It’s funky. It’s fab. It ups life’s Good Bits. Do try some:
Lexi asks
My boyfriend just left for work and won’t be back for a few weeks. I’m super sad about it. I don’t enjoy being all alone in the house. Advice on how to feel better? 😅
My answer
Why not do what I do? Hijack your nearest Viagra factory, commandeer its entire next year's output, then spike your beau's morning coffee with it. The whole lot. We're talking multiple cubic metres of ground-up Viagra, distilled into a single morning cuppa. Phwoar.
Package it within the correct type of slow-release capsule, and it should kick in when he's halfway to the next continent. With any luck he'll get an erection ten thousand miles long, piledriving through his jet cabin's ceiling, then soaring across the world like the St. Louis Gateway Arch but even more penisey, and knocking politely yet firmly at your boudoir window. Dude! Result! Now lie back with legs akimbo, and pleasure yourself to your heart's content.
A glance outside my own bedroom window reminds me that joyous penisey shenanigans of this sort are all too common: you may need a bit of trial and error before you can deduce which intercontinental schlong is his. When in doubt, bap the unfamiliar penises hovering outside with a rolled-up newspaper like they're great snuffly pooch-snoots.
Then twiddle your thumbs for a fortnight while the target dick's bioelectrical nerve impulses convey your newspaper-pooch-bap back along the shaft, up and up through the atmosphere, piercing clouds, besting the ozone layer, kissing low orbit at its zenith; then curving back down, down, through cumulonimbus grandeur, to your(?) beau's locale, his quarters, his crotch, and at last his brain.
Then give him a tinkle and ask if he'd felt anything. No? Whack anew. Repeat twice monthly. Works a treat, bae.
Original: https://mikeyclarke.co.nz/blog/2021/12/on-bapping-the-unfamiliar-penises-with-a-rolled-up-newspaper-todays-terrible-advice
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Bullshit Hors D’oeuvres: TERRIBLE ADVICE posts
Enjoy this snazzy sampling of hintCLICKABLEhint crowd-pleasers:
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Today's TERRIBLE advice: concerning Strength and Wisdom through Rage Cake
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On combating shoplifting accusations by dribbling lab ethanol on every breathalyser in Christendom: today's TERRIBLE advice
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Bullshit Banquet: the SEXYVERSE NOVELS
*ahem*
IN A WORLD where wars are fought with romance and flirting and delicious erotic TENSION, the rivalries throbbing between history’s Great Powers have become a BUTTLOAD more bubbly, with fewer hideous massacres of musket and cannon, and OODLES more frisky cunnilingus contests:
The Sex Commandos Thwart The Third Vaginal Apocalypse
Part One: The Knights Of Raw Phwoar
Might Earth’s free nations drown under terrifying tornadoes of French femme-foam? Like hell, shout Britain’s Royal Marines Sex Commandos. Let’s assassinate France’s Imperatrix Brigitte Bardot! Come on. What’s the worst that could happen?
Part Two: The Soviet Sluts Superb
Turns out out-flirting Imperatrix Bardot is like trying to wank off Mt. Blanc when it’s wanking you back. Plan B: skedaddle, regroup, out-flirt the entirety of France and get loads more practice, then it’s stealthy-sneaky Round Two or bust.
Part Three: The Cervical Supremacy
Turns out flirting with every ladybro Rambo in France produces Rivals and Frenemies and Jilted Waifus galore. Smashing fun, but utter Kryptonite for Imperial kill-plans. Like, ever tried noshing off a world leader whilst a billion fanb0is fondle your buttocks? Want to? Read on!
Part Four: The Praetorian Prostitutes
The game’s up! The irresistible force of fanb0i-fondlemania has headbutted the immovable object of a gazillion furious Paris cops. They too thirst for Sex Commando patoot. Crunch time. Either launch one final rocket-strike against Bardot and France, or Earth’s free nations forever perish.
Part Five: [soon, baby]
Click these and enjoy these and your appetites will be SATISFIED.
Bullshit Emeritus: YOUR TURN
Fancy some boutique TERRIBLE advice of your own? Comment your question or dilemma, and I’ll magic up something deliciously wicked to put a smile on your face, just for you. You put yummy in my tummy, you know that?