12% BEER
Miss Throcky The Love Machine. aka IC#5
  For those of you who are following the entire Diaryland Survivor contest- The next challenge for immunity is to write an entry as if you were one of your fellow survivors, one of the judges, or the host. I decided that I would choose the loverly Miss Throcky. Why? Because she's an incredibly smart woman with a vocabulary that far exceeds mine... and also because my thesaurus excersises needed a little bit of a work out... do enjoy.

Delicately I announce my arrival to my chariot of fire. "Dear horse less carriage, bring me with quick trepidation to the Grocer's Mart for a combination of soothing, yet erotic enticements to celebrate the anniversary date of Captain's and my joining of souls and hearts."

Doth we moved. Forward ho.

Into the sea of menacing pedestrians did my chariot and I enter. Swiftly, we eased around the barbaric SUVs and pranced effortlessly unto a space of solitude for my carriage to mill in as I passed, undauntingly, through the Grocer's Automated Doors.

Grabbing the plastic mechanism that would house my parcels until the purchasing would commence, I strolled unto the aisle of choice. The spectrum of colors shown brightly under the effervescent lights of the Grocer's Mart. Slowly I perused the selection of edible delicacies, pondering when I approached the bananas.

"Methinks that these yellow fruits of seduction will prove to be too phallic for the Captain's taste. However, I will find them to be quite appropriate when the nigh draws near."

Into the carrying mechanism the golden rods were stowed.

Rounding the corner, the radiant rouge mounds of strawberries beckoned my eye. "It is called aloud by the Goddess Athena that strawberries are the seductress of the lips. 'Fie! Fie!' I call out to any other produce opponents that dare challenge this champion's ability to make lovers fall to their knees and pucker their lips anon."

Into the carrying mechanism the radiant rouge mounds were placed.

Through the bustle and hustle of fellow Grocer Mart's patrons did I make my path until I reached my desired destination.

"Oh, cocoa bean. How your evolution from bean state to alluring liquid goodness occurs, I am not aware. Yet I do know that the state of Hershey is where I shall reside. Thus, you will join my lovemate's and my joyous evening. And how we will rejoice in your chocolately company."

The golden rods, mounds of radiant rouge were soon joined by their neighbor Hershey syrup.

Knowing that tonight would be a night of brilliant passion, I decided that it would be in my best interest to take a constitutional walk towards the aisle of prophylactics. Anon did I go. As I approached the holding case of lamb skins, latex, and lubrications, my girlish manner did cause my jubilant cheeks to blush. My eyes scrutinized each product, calculating the advantages of ribbed protection versus the rubber cages aimed at pleasuring the lady. Not completely aware of the differences between the two, I beckoned the Grocer Mart's clerk to offer his knowledgeable assistance.

"Dear sir… I have analyzed the beneficiary results of both the ribbed prophylactic as related to the prophylactic that is aimed at pleasuring my senses. Dear sir.. I do query.. which product is more worthy of my purchase?"

"Uhhh. What?," the dastardly gentleman replied.

"I am at a cross roads as to which prophylactic path I should favor. I am in need of your service so that I may make a more knowledgeable choice.," replied I.

"Um... Yeah. Those are condoms. If you're looking for Zip Locs… they're on aisle 7A."

I bristled with contempt as my communication was obviously thwarted by this ape's lack of vocabulary. My milky hands tightened around the carrying mechanism's handles as my lips pursed the following:

"I am in need of your opinion as to which sheath my Captain's First Mate should be bestowed."

Obviously, my third attempt at having any dialogue with the brute had failed, for his eyes did deliver an absent punch to my quandary.

"I don't understand what you're saying, lady," he smirkingly smirked.

"Which fucking condom should I buy, you punk ass? The ribbed one or the one for my pleasure?," I resorted. Apparently, this was the key to unlocking his dense skull, for he replied.

"Shiiit. I say that since you're buying, you're the one that the pleasure should be applying."

Thus, I did take into my reign the prophylactic aimed at generously giving me pleasure. Unto the bartering and purchasing counter did I jolly forth. After making the exchange of currency for material goods, I did make my way to my horse less carriage that, without delay, brought me to my domicile.

A lady never discloses the bits and tids that do occur between herself, her lover, and her linens…. But, I shall divulge one or two moments of riveting, raucous, revelations. The Captain's First Mate is steadfast and true; steady when guiding his commanding officer through any port, yet loves the mist that does come with any storm. And your dear narrator, ay, 'tis me…. Has many other monikers that do accompany the title "Miss Throcky." Among them, "Hot Piece of Mutton," "Joan of Arse," and "Susie the Stroking Strumpet." I do giggle with lust as I reveal these moments of fancy, so I must depart dear reader, for the cooling aid of someplace arctic is needed to cure this moment of hot fervor.

Anon! Anon I go. Methinks a remaining pleasurable prophylactic and crumbs of one or two mounds of rouge doth trumpet my name. I bid you fond adieu, dear reader. Adieu. Adieu.

To you. And you. And you.

Get All Notified:

I know you were here.
Copyright 2001, 2002, 2003, 2004 L.Leroy