Blossoming like a Rose

Funny story written by walter

Monday, 16 November 2009


The funny story you are trying to access may cause offense, may be in poor taste, or may contain subject matter of a graphic nature. This story was written as a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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No wonder if men have loved so much their mom. For instance, Neal E. Boyd, the winner of $1-million prize of America's Got Talent, 2008, during his audition, repeatedly cried, shed tears and emphasized his love for his mom.

Man comparatively differs pretty much from other members of the animal kingdom, to the extents that one doubts a common creator. The female of this species, somehow differs from the killer male, undergoes various stages in her lifetime: at stage I, about 5-6, she is the embodiment of the legendary biblical angles painted on the walls of cathedrals; at stage II, puberty, she is an incarnation of sexual attraction; at stage III, she is the epitome of a loving and caring mother.

With the programmed guidance of the genes, she tries hard to find the right male for the conception of a child. At mating age, she glows with lust and beauty, innately inclined to augment her charm: glossy hair, threaded eyebrows, alluring eyelashes, tempting mascaras, misleading lens, proud nose jobs, jolly rogue lipsticks, sparkling jewelry, colorful dresses, devastating cleavages, subtle scent and briefly: encompassing all ins and outs of her body. She needs to be always reminded of being the Mini Mother Nature, who deserves the rarities of the world such as gold and diamonds.

Creator knows very well that she needs to remain tender, smooth and velvety to entertain the hairy mail, the falsely advertised rough-and-tough militant who can easily collapse and loose erection by a puff of a malodor, a dry vagina, improper gesture, unfavorable insinuation, consequently, leaving the voluptuous female unfulfilled.

In order to make the male reach deep into her nesting enclave and to shorten the shooting distance, she needs to be squeezed as tightly as possible.

Although pregnancy ravages her physical beauty, she openly accepts the consequences. Therefore, she devotedly begins her maternal days by morning sickness and ends it with striation on the abdomen, rectal and limb varicose. She is so committed in her natural reproduction that she is even willing to carry a child resulted from rape.

After giving birth, she will not be the same lustful woman she used to be. Her love will be divided. She no longer cares to pedicure, wearing a hot tight pant, applying devastating cosmetics, placing tall wine glasses on the candle lit dinner table …

She fails to be in bed in time, to touch her husband's private part, to gently rub his wooly chest. She no longer encourages her partner to perform foreplay so that the sheath for the male's shaft is properly lubricated. Most of the time, the baby in the cot starts crying and she needs to rush to the baby's room. And when she comes back to bed, the man's erection has sadly collapsed and he is outrageously snoring, vibrating his lips just like the good old days when her labia minora were blossoming like a rose at a little insinuation of sex.

The funny story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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