Today, as I was working in the local grocery store, a man came through, with what appeared to be a night of romance planed. He had wine, a shit-load of candles, a bouqet of flowers, and some exotic lovemaking oils.
Personally, I thought you bought Astroglide for anal, but what might be romantic to someone means sticking it in the pooper. Knocking on the backdoor. Taking a detour down the Hershey highway. Going suppository style. Packing fudge.
Pray to God that she's not eating Mexican, or it could get really nasty.
That hole never really appealed to me. I don't want to pull out and see a chunk of corn hanging on to me. And I really don't feel like subjecting myself to spraying myself with Lysol.