Here we have Jay, our bad boy. Look at this guy. Why do we love bad boys? Because they're pieces of shit, but as much as we want to smack them, we want them inside of us as far as they can go. Ladies, you know what I'm talking about. Get this pissed off savage on top of you to wreak havoc while you push him in by his ass. That's what's up. I bet he cums a mushroom cloud full of hatred, and tell me I wouldn't save and dry his cum and sprinkle it on my breakfast for the next week. Look at that fucking scowl. I just want to sit on it. What an asshole. But as much as we love his kind, we chew them up and spit them out or vice versa. You're not going to change him, he will never love you, but goddamn let's imagine what it would be like to be a pair of his briefs for a day.
And now, to our right, we have our good boy, Stacy. God bless this little gentleman. After dealing with the trials and tribulations of the bad boys for a good few years (or if you don't wise up, maybe more), you will finally snatch up one of these cherubs and hold on with a white knuckle grip. These are the boys we always think are babes deep down, but since they're the ones willing to chill with you, do dorky shit, and be there to hold a candle light vigil when your first goldfish dies, we try not to admit how much we like them in the stark realization that things might get fucked up. Sure, his palms get sweaty when you're holding hands and it takes a half hour to convince him to have sex under that blanket in the park, but he will love and cherish you forever. Plus he looks like fucking Zeus with his fair locks blowing in the wind whilst his tight tan bod basks in the glow of the sun. I want to taste your tonsils for eternity. Marry me, Stacy.
hahahhaahhhahah this is so ridiculous.
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