Perspiration ran down my face. In what has probably been the most tense game of Candyland to date, my trembling paw reached out and grasped the top card of the succulent white pile of perfect lily colored cardboard, as the confectionery square of alabaster goodness glued itself to the forefinger of my Cheeto laced finger as it seized like an epileptic watching a Pokemon marathon. During the Fourth of July. On a rainbow.
I draw a card…
Flipped over, the image revealed itself to be some peanut brittle.
Why my dear sweet Gramma Nutt, I shan’t resist, with hair so sticky and eyes like clouded over jelly beans.
Letting loose a sweet sensual “Grrrrlll,” fingers deftly twirling the little green kid as he cannonballs towards the gingerly ol’ cougar, knocking down Blue and Yellow in the way. Fuck them, primary colors are for sissies and cosplayers.
As I reach the tender geriatric genitalia, mucosa thick as molasses, her torpedo breasts hanging down her belly button like a red vine with a gobstopper affixed to the end, and stop my gob it does. She undoes her pants and lets drop her fruit-rollups, as I roll down into her coconut shavings bush, languishing the feel of her peach gummies. As I tongue her lifesaver, but I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck tense up.
I turn around, and who else is staring at us, but Lord Licorice, his twizzler being cupped by both hands.
I never realized how large and black it was.
As he whips it back and forth, running towards our sugary pile like a pitbull who has spotted a succulent minority child in southern California, we can feel the glops of cream free themselves from his pulsating pillar of pliable pleasure, and land on us in troves. He jumps into my open mouth, as King Kandy takes the backdoor, his scepter proclaiming my anus for the realm. From a distance, it is said we looked like an amalgamation of sadness, sweets, and sweat trying to form the ancient beast Candthulu.
As we all finish, we grab Yellow and play biscuit on him, creating our own oatmeal cookie concoction on his pristine jaundiced body. Both Lord Licorice and I finish in last place simultaneously, as a grin creeps across both of our faces.
By now, my niece is crying, something about how I would never do this again, how I promised.
do you ever get so platonically infatuated with someone that you just want to shower them with love and never stop but you’re afraid they’ll think you’re creepy and secretly start to judge you and no ssh stop all i want to do is love you