What the cunt in front of me was buying today in the Asda. Year of Our Lord 4th of November 2000. 1) 1.5 l Leibfraumilch 2) 6 Low Fat Chocolate Mousses (Mice? I dunno, and hardly fucking care) 3) 7 Toffee Apples Just what the fuckery shit hell was he playing at?

Dear Deb,

I've just had this dream that I'd like you to analyse for me, because you're dead good at all that stuff, and are spot on all the time.  No, really, you are.  You're like Mystic Meg, you are... fucking useless.  No, you are.

I was fucking the hell out of this piece, right,  really giving her what for, you know.  Yeah.
We was doing it all styles, like.  Up the gash, eyes front looking into each others faces as I pushed myself into her, like, you know, like in the films?  Toy Story 2, I think... though I haven't seen it.  Anyway, I was wrinkling up my nose with every slow pump into that hot greasy pie hole, occasionally shouting out, 'Ding ding!  Tickets, please!' and pretending to pull an invisible string above me.  And she was loving it, oh yes.  I could tell, because she'd stopped screaming like she did when I first put that sack over her head and threw her in the back of the van.  It was just a dull sobbing now, and her lovely voice saying, 'Please, stop doing this to me.'

Then we did the from behind one, you know, the one where you get to pull all kinds of silly faces at the stupid bitch and flash the vees, even if you really like her, and all that poof stuff.  yeah so what then?  Oh yeah, what?  you want a half return to Bexley Heath?  How old are you son?  You look older than sixteen to me....  Ding ding!

Yeah, what now?  Oh yes!  So then I did my favourite then, her on the side with her one leg between mine, me clutching the other against my chest.  I love the access that this grants me to the lady's pleasure pot, and also I can pretend her leg is a palm tree and that I'm clinging to it in a hurricane.  Quick, get to the church!  We'll be safe there...

But, Meester, my son, Pedro, eeez meeseeng!  Can you not save heeem?

Sure thing, lady!  I'll save your boy!  (Like fuck I will!  Who made me your fucking slave, you wrinkled old bag!  As soon as she's in the church I'm off down the snooker club, oh fuck better not, I'm still fucking this bird, like, innit?)

Yeah, so I was getting towards the end of the filthy act, like.  I took her hand and put her fingers in my mouth so that she could gauge how turned on I was, drawing my teeth down her fingers, the occasional lingering bite as I tried to draw out the experience...  Oi, Son!  you were supposed to get off two stops ago, come on now, play fair, I let you have the half, didn't I?  You're a crafty one, alright, tut tut tut... Ding Ding!!

And then I shot my dirty great ballast of man eggs right up the filthy slag.  I likes 'em to wriggle about near the end, and this bitch weren't playing ball.  I had to resort to the old, "I've got a spider in my hands... WANNA LOOK?"  thing, and wave my cupped palms about in front of her face.

Oh come on, don't look at me like that... all men do it.  Oh, you don't, well what do you do, then?

Yeah.  So that was it.  Please tell me what it means, Deb.

Cheers, D.
 

Hello, ya mad fucker!

To me this dream represents a thinly veiled attempt to convince some girl(s) that you're actually not completely fucking useless in da' sack.  My psychic abilities also detect you might also piss off your friends because they're miserable bastards and think everything you do is a thinly veiled attempt to convice girls that you're... (cough cough)  Oh yeah?  Where was I?  Oh yes, Jamie will love it, though.  Straight up, no messin'.

hope this helps!  from Delicious Dibbs!  XXxXxXXXXxxxxX.

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