
The key to a happy marriage has always escaped me.
Apparently the clitoris is an actual thing.
Go figure đ¤ˇââď¸

The key to a happy marriage has always escaped me.
Apparently the clitoris is an actual thing.
Go figure đ¤ˇââď¸

I thought about Susanâs, as me, proposal.
But I didnât want to suck a dick. Was it gay to suck your own dick? What if youâre currently a woman and suck a dick that belonged to you? But I was in a womanâs body that wasnât my own. Was it wrong to suck a dick then? But what if you had permission, or in fact was forced, by the rightful owner of that body to suck a dick that belonged to you? Was THAT gay?
âI suggest a counter proposal,â I said to Susan. âIâll agree to your terms IF, if, in addition to sucking your dick (that is, in fact, MY dick) you eat my pussy (that is, in fact, YOUR pussy).â
Susan, in my body, thought for a moment. âFuck it, why not?â (s)he responded.
We both stripped down. Susanâs body that I occupied was a toned work of art. Meanwhile, Susan (in my body) removed her clothing, revealing a disgusting, hairy, and flabby body.
âSo this is what itâs like to have an erection,â (s)he said.
âFor fuck sake, letâs get this over with,â I replied.
I, being the woman this time, climbed on top while Susan, the man, laid beneath me. I placed this exquisite looking vagina onto Susanâs face while I shoved this pathetic penis into my mouth.
Honestlyâgetting your pussy eatenâpretty good experience. Almost made me forget that I was blowing myself.
âIâm about to come,â Susan, as a man, screamed.
Oh shit, I thought. I wasnât prepared to swallow semen.
âI wanna bust in that pussy (that is, in fact, MY pussy),â she said.
Relieved, I stood up and (s)he bent me over the couch and shoved in the full 4.5 inches. At first, it occurred to me that size indeed DOES NOT matter.
âDamn it!â Susan yelled. âYour dick sucks!â
Nevermind then.
(S)he started to speed up until finally pulling out and blowing semen in between my butt cheeks.
âGotta say,â Susan said, âitâs better to orgasm as woman.â
I laid down on the couch and covered my naked body. Was it worth it? Sure, I rationalized to myself. Too bad I didnât come though.
After Susan washed up, she put on a suit and tie. She made me look the best I ever looked.
âAlright,â (s)he said, âletâs go find that warlock.â
TO BE CONTINUED

âShut up bitch!â I said.
Then she kicked me in the nuts with her pointed toe stilettos.
As I writhing in pain on the floor, Susan stood over me and said âIâm getting that job you limp dick bastard! Not you, not the board, not anyone can stand in my way!â
Susan stormed off and all my coworkers stood around. âIâm fine,â I said. âShe barely knicked my ball sack.â
I crawled back to my office and shut the door. I took the bottle of vodka out of the refrigerator and placed it on my crotch. Bob Dickenburg came in laughing.
âSusanâs a firecracker isnât she!â he said.
âTo put it mildly,â I replied.
âLook, donât worry about her,â Bob continued. âThe board loves your work. Youâre definitely getting that job.â
âI better. Iâm gonna have to pay for scrotal surgery soon,â I said. I then lifted the bottle of vodka to my mouth.
âWell, weâre gonna announce the promotion on Monday. Go home, enjoy your weekend, and donât worry yourself over it.â
I nodded to Bob as I swallowed the vodka. I didnât get much work done that Friday afternoon. I got too drunk.
As I roared my Ferrari back home, almost hitting several motorists, I accidentally plowed my vehicle into a hooded figure. I grabbed my beer and exited the car to check on the person.
The figure laid on the ground, body parts were completely mangled. I kicked his side.
âHey buddy, are you alright?â I asked.
The figure sat up and snapped his limbs back together. It was disgusting. Finally he stood up and removed the hood.
The man appeared to be blind. I figured thatâs why he was standing in the middle of the road. He was ancient, like a warlock.
âYou shouldnât drink and drive,â the man said.
âOh itâs okay, Iâm rich.â
He then lifted his hands to my face and began chanting something in Latin, Greek, or some bullshit I didnât understand. After standing there for a few moments, he lowered his hands and slowly wondered off.
âYou donât want any money out of my wallet?â I asked.
He didnât reply.
I finished driving home. I stripped off my clothes, climbed in between the sheets, and fell fast asleep.
When I awoke the next morning, I wasnât hungover. I also didnât have rock hard morning wood. Something was amiss.
I sat up in bed and didnât recognize the room. It was a womanâs room.
A nude man with a rubber mask came crawling in on all fours. He stood up, his partially erect penis inches from my face, and he handed over a cock cage.
âIâve been a bad boy mommy,â he said.
âMommy?â
I stood up and looked in the mirror. And there she was: her tall slender frame, small perky breast, and that stern resting bitch face.
I was Susan.
Or, more precisely, I was in Susanâs body. And presumably she was in mine.
âThat fucking warlock,â I thought. âI hope Susan doesnât look at my penis.â
I looked over to the nude man. âSorry bro, I ainât gay,â I said. I then threw on some clothes and sped over to my own apartment, expecting to find Susan in my body.
I stormed into my room, and there was me, or rather Susan as me, sitting prim and proper and drinking coffee.
âLook Susan,â I said, âI know that all of this is weird. But we can undo this. Thereâs a warlock I know that can put us back into our own bodies. Letâs go!â
âWhy would I want to do that?â she, as me, asked.
âWell youâre me. Iâm you. You know….â
âBut I know that youâre the one getting that promotion. Or rather…IâM the one getting that promotion.â
âSusan, we donât have time for this shit. We need to be looking for this warlock.â
(S)he took a drink of the coffee and slowly put the cup down. âIâll cut you a deal,â (s)he said. âIâll help you find this warlock, but first we should take time to appreciate this situation.â
âWhat do you mean?â
âIâve done fellatio before, sure. But Iâve never had MY dick sucked…â (s)he said.
My heart began to sink.
âWill you suck my dick?â (s)he asked. âOr rather…will you suck YOUR dick?
TO BE CONTINUED

âYour test results are positive,â the doctor said as he sat grimly behind his desk.
I took a deep breath. âWhat does this mean?â I asked.
âYouâre perfectly healthy. Not a damn thing is wrong with you. You are going to live a very, VERY long life.â
I sighed.
âThis is terrible news doc.â
THE END

âHow could you have married him? You promised youâd wait for me!â
âBecause Iâm gay?â I told her đ¤ˇââď¸
THE END

It must be difficult being the greatest living actor.
From the time he recited the alphabet in Vampireâs Kiss, the world would never be the same.
Sure Nicholas Cage smashed box office records, won Academy Awards, and had sex with Patricia Arquette, but there was one thing he could never land: the role of Kal-El, aka Superman, in Tim Burtonâs Superman Lives.
Itâs a loss from which the world will never recover.
So our national treasure had to wonder the earth, forced to take whatever role was handed to him. But there was a gap in his soul the size of $6.5 million worth of unpaid back taxes.
But in his mind, he remains the invincible hero we all know him to beâthanks in part to prolonged cocaine use.
Nicholas Cage: The Movie.
A film by Nicholas Cage

âWhat are you going to say now James? That youâve never walked a step in your life?â
That is correct.
But I get the appeal.
And Iâm not talking about âhikingâ or âspeed walkingâ. Thatâs some white people bullshit.
Iâm talking about walking in a straight line on a flat plane. Itâs great: putting one foot in front of the other, just wondering aimlessly because youâve got nowhere to go because youâre unemployed and your kids wonât talk to you.
Nothing beats it.
Except for black tar heroin.

I ainât gonna lie.
I did exactly what I wanted to do for nine straight years: drink in excess.
So itâs hard for me to say that I regret nearly a decade of my life. There were some great fucking times.
But were there regrets? Situations I couldâve handled better? People I couldâve been nicer to?
Oh yeah! You bet!
The truth is, where I came from, I overstayed my welcome. A good friend told me, for my own well-being, that he better not see my face in these bars ever again.
He meant it.
I never returned. Never spoke with him again.
Some things are meant to be forgotten.
But I canât help but think: do all my old friends hate me? Do they think about me as much as I think about them?
I suppose that we all separated for the better. It just nags me that there are those I spent years with, whose lives instantly got better once when I left.
Of course my life got better too when I left them.
Maybe Iâm just overstating my self importance.
Maybe itâs hard for me to accept that time is gaining on me.

So I was about to blackout at the bar when an elderly woman sat next to me.
âGet me a bourbon Bill. Make it a double,â she told the bartender. âIt happened again.â
âWhat happened again?â I asked her.
âAIDSâ
THE END

âGive me a ticket to the farthest away place you fly,â I asked the airlines employees.
âThat will be $38,762 sir,â she replied.
I handed her my credit card.
âWould you like to know where youâre going?â she asked.
âNopeâ
Hours later the plane landed. At the airport people were shitting on the floor and speaking a language I didnât understand.
âWhere is this shithole?â I asked my cab driver.
âThis is Indianapolis sir.â
THE END