02-27-2009, 01:41 PM
Fishnet stockings are the cthulhu of the conjugal chamber. When you're down in the trenches, ready to rut, you'll suddenly see regiments of lines marching in parallel to meet at the curvaceous horizon. Before you know it, you're back in high school physics studying optics. Because it just isn't right. Parallel lines ought not meet -- certainly not in the Euclidean here and now.
Worse still, when you're at the cliff edge, about to salute the infinite, and you back off across the bedroom to get a good running start (as all great lovers do), there comes a distance at which the fishnet mutates into a whirly girly dervish. Unexpectedly you find yourself in a ménage a trios, captivated by the charms of Ms. Moire. With vision impaired, you invariably start leaping into a wall ... until your prepped-but-forsaken sweet mate breaches from the bedsheets to slap you silly.
Fishnet stockings should have been under the watchful eye of the FDA, tested and monitored for years before release. And trust me, they would never have been released.
Because they are the cthulhu of the conjugal chamber.
Worse still, when you're at the cliff edge, about to salute the infinite, and you back off across the bedroom to get a good running start (as all great lovers do), there comes a distance at which the fishnet mutates into a whirly girly dervish. Unexpectedly you find yourself in a ménage a trios, captivated by the charms of Ms. Moire. With vision impaired, you invariably start leaping into a wall ... until your prepped-but-forsaken sweet mate breaches from the bedsheets to slap you silly.
Fishnet stockings should have been under the watchful eye of the FDA, tested and monitored for years before release. And trust me, they would never have been released.
Because they are the cthulhu of the conjugal chamber.