She’s right, you know

 She just is.




My
SO once told me that it was on our honeymoon that I gave her the best
sex she’s ever experienced.  Which is a bit of luck, really, as you
never know what you’re going to get when you’re in a foreign place and
you don’t know the escort agencies well.


It’s only fair: she took his electric razor, when they split up, I understand.



Got there eventually.  Well done.  Now let’s talk about ironing pleats.



Don’t worry: he won’t allow himself to be improperly influenced.  Properly influenced, yes, certainly, possibly even vigorously influenced.  But no more than that.




Women, eh?  Sometimes you’re supposed to scream in agony, sometimes you’re supposed to stay silent.  How are we supposed to know?  I mean, unless they use ball-gags and stuff.

Remembrance of times past

The Other World Kingdom is mostly gone, at least in its original form, but its memory lives on.  And so do the memories of those fine ladies who worked there, which by a process of entirely fictional thought transferrence have ended up inside the mind of the author of this blog.  From where, after picking delicately around the piles of rancid porn and mounds of bad ideas that clutter that place up, they emerge to be shared here.

 

Or, to put it more simply: OWK ladies remember.  Again.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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