I'm tired. Really tired.
A ridiculously hot, verile man ravished my body all day, leaving my muscles achey, pain in the right places, and lips swollen, red, and chapped from all that kissing.
Wouldn't it be great if that actually happened?
Instead, y'all are going to have to settle for the truth. I puttered around the house, went to HyVee and bought a loaf of bread, and came home. My lips are red and chapped from licking my tasty gloss off while I was outside.
The first story was much more interesting to read, I'm sure. I mean, who wants to read about me buying a loaf of bread? And some Listerine. And a couple twice-baked potatoes.
That sound? Oh, that's probably Kant slapping her forehead. I don't know why the things I say still surprise her. She should be used to it by now.
I'm going to bed. Maybe I will have a pleasant dream about the first story, and not one about me at the grocery store.