Dicks Are Like a Box of Chocolates...

Instead of calling my #1 goon Shrek, the crew has knighted him as Skittles.

Dude is always rocking these loud ass Coogi shirts.  One day in particular, he was wearing this assortment of tropical skittle colors.  He looked like a tub of sherbet you purchase from WalMart.

Thing is, I've never been a fan of skittles.  I prefer chocolate.  So rather than fuck Skittles, I’m contemplating getting a taste of his cousin.

Turns out Friday night, while sitting in VIP with him, I solicited my pussy.  Well, I didn't actually demand that he oblige me sitting on his face as I did the other random potentials, but I did give dude my number and he’s been using it ever since.

I wasn't surprised yesterday when I saw him adorned in a similar tub-o-sherbet shirt accompanied with matching tub-o-sherbet kicks.  

And to make matters taste worse, dude has jagged teeth.  He also looks soft, like I just don’t see goon in him.  Plus he’s younger than me and I’m sure lacks formal education.

I don’t know, maybe I'm wrong.  Perhaps, he's like an assorted box of chocolates (which I loathe).  It's like the tedious task of biting into three chocolates just to get to the one with a cordial filling.  Who knows what dude has to offer, maybe he tastes better than I expect, maybe he's sweeter than the chocolates before him.  

But whatever oozes forth after I get ahold of him doesn't matter right now.  I have been picking through this never-ending box and have finally come upon a few pieces that taste quite divine, so dude will just have to wait for round 2.