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A. Whiskey and coke?B. I don’t drink coke.Those who want to be loved, get dogs.Those who want to love, get cats.Hamsters have a different role. Their purpose in life is to demonstrate death to the kids.What happens when you play ‘Bolero’ backwards?You become unRaveled... The friars were behind on their belfry payments, so they opened up a small florist shop to raise funds.Since everyone liked to buy flowers from the men of God, a rival florist across town thought this was unfair. He asked the good fathers to close down, but they would not.He went back and begged the friars to close. They ignored him.So the rival florist hired Hugh MacTaggart, the roughest and most vicious thug in town to “persuade” them to close. Hugh beat up the friars and trashed their store, saying he’d be back if they didn’t close up shop.Terrified, they did so, thereby proving that: Hugh, and only Hugh, can prevent florist friars.When the tenth consecutive homely monarch took up his position in Madrid, it became. They were so hard and swollen, they felt like marbles digging into my skin. After what seemed like an eternity, mother leaned back and broke our kiss. As she did, I heard her make a soft mewing sound while her arm uncurled itself from around me and I felt her exploring fingers slowly crawl down my chest, over my stomach. Holding my breath, I waited. Waited for the touch of her fingers on my hard, throbbing cock. "Mom—"I choked out as her hot, soft fingers curled around my peter and gently lifted it off my belly. I couldn't move. I lay as still as I could as I felt her fingers exploring the length of my penis starting down at my dangling balls and slowly working up the thick shaft all the way to its sensitive, swollen head. "Big—" I heard her huff as her fingers eased my prick back down on my belly. Then I felt her fingers leave my cock and curl around my wrist. Dragging my hand over to one of her breasts, she pushed it against the soft, quivering mountain of tit-flesh and then let.
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"It's Wilkins in 214. He needs help, as usual."She left the station and went briskly down the hall. Wilkins was in bad shape, both legs and both arms in casts. He was a middle-aged man and he was always cranky. He'd been in the hospital long enough so that the worst pain was over. But he still always found something to bitch about: the food stinks; the service stinks, bring me this, bring me that, help me pee, scratch my back. It was always something. Sarah simply managed to avoid him most of the time."About time you got here," he snorted when she entered his room.Sarah smiled and took the bottle into the toilet, emptied it, and rinsed it out."Do you need to go?" she asked."Hell yes, I need to go! Why do you think I was shoutin' for you?" Do you need any help?"Wilkins flushed. He could manage alone if he had to, but it was a hell of a chore. "Well, it's easier with help," he said. "You nurses run in and run right back out, leaving a man helpless. What do ya do all day, loaf around.

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