My friend, Steve, is super down to earth. He has a rhinosaurus heart. Metaphorically. Like his heart is the size of a rhino’s. Not literally. It’s an expression that means like, he’s real sweet and kind and his shirts always match his eyeballs, which are the color of the deepest ocean, if the deepest ocean were dyed cedar brown. Literally, his heart probably weighs about seven pounds – same size as Will Smith’s. Plus, he’s gotta dick that could eat up a gator. No joke. Seriously. Especially if the gator wasn’t full grown. Like a little 3 footer? His dick could easily gobble that up. There’s no doubt about that. Steve is the kinda guy who you want to bring home to your Mom (if she wasn’t such a old flappy cunt who can’t live in the now and realize that it’s fucking 2011 and that the gays are the new blacks and are takin’ OVA!!! We’re turning the Blackhouse, previously known as the Whitehouse, into the Fuchsiahouse when we elect our first Queen in 2016). Steve’s the type of guy that will bring you flowers, and not just because your pet turtle, Cecil, just died of breast cancer. It’s like, I haven’t heard from you in 6 months and all the sudden Cecil kicks it and you wanna come over with flowers and act all buddy buddy with me? Go fly a motherfucking kite, asshole. Sorry. My “so-called” life, right guyz? Anyway. Steve pushes me in all aspects of my life. He pushes me to be a more caring, thoughtful person. He pushes me to try new things. He pushes me in the shopping cart when we go to Wally World to pick up anal nitrate before pushing in my butthole Snickers. Whole lot of anal pushing with Steve, that’s for sure. See, I’m a power bottom but I really like getting with someone who can get in there and split me in two like Robin Hood’s arrow. Steve really is the best. I’m not fucking with you. He’s numero uno in my book. That’s Spanish. Steve also taught me Espanol because he thought it would be nice if we were bisexual and could speak two languages. Plus, it gets me harder than a Sudoku puzzle when he whispers sweet Latin nothings in my ear-vag.
So here’s the deal. Here is why I’m telling you all this. Steve and I dated on and off through middle school but our relationship was so fucked that we knew we had to call it off or one of us would end up gutting the other one like a swordfish and leaving the body for the coyotes to pick at. I mean, we are still greeeat friends. And like I said, he’s the greatest guy, WE just couldn’t make it work. I’m with Sharon now, and I’m happy as a clam. I still get to be the power bottom. But the thing is, we all like to go out to the Giraffe’s Clit (the hottest new leather club) together and Steve is really shy and has a hard time meeting people, so it ends up just being the three of us, and Sharon and I feel bad leaving him alone in the theatre while we go play hide the nutsack in the ladies’ room. I think you see where I’m going with this. We want to set Steve up with someone, so that when Sharon and I excuse ourselves from the table during dinner and go to the car to blow lines of ecstasy up each other’s asses with a straw, he will have someone to talk to. So, if this sounds like something you’d be into or if Steve sounds like the type of fly cat that you’d like to put inside you, then give us a holler and let’s all go out!
Can’t wait to meet you!