Intrigued not only by his positively, but the sparkling trajectory seductively smeared
across his complexion. "Ay, mate, that's one mighty bit of persuadance there on your
lips." Sneered the Captain, "Mind if I give her the thrust 'n pull." His injunction postulated,
and out it popped, stage center, all sticky and poised. The young cadet took a moment to prepare for his assignment, trying to conceptualize a way to prevent the entropy of his own dignity. Caught short by the sloppy insertion, "champ" (as dubbed by the captain himself) was left with no choice but to purse his lips and bob his head to the malignant beat of old captains groaning. "Ay, boy, their she blow," The seed tasted ridiculously ineffective ,noted champ, as he suckled at the stringy ejection, "the captain is probably sterile."
His deduction was one such merit champ prided himself on. He new many a sperm, and could usually compute their density by taste alone. "My dream is to start a fertility testing clinic for men, where patients can count on a qualitative assessment of there assets." Champs dream still remains unrealized, and now its just him and the captain, that old, dirty, sterile prick that fill his days and nights with perspective, rationality, and rectal uniformity.
-lovefilledportals