a_depilation_to_remember Skite Since 2004 A soft summer breeze blew in through the bathroom window. Eric was plucking his cockhairs and the breeze was refreshing. He heard Mitzi in the hallway, padding about in her socks. "I love you, Eric," called Mitzi, going into the kitchen. "I love you too, Mitzi," responded Eric with genuine vigor. He could hear Mitzi banging around in the kitchen. She was doing something with pots and pans and clamour was consequently begotten. "Eric," called Mitzi. "Yes, Mitzi?" "Are you plucking your cockhairs again?" asked Mitzi, banging more pots and pans. "Yes, dear," said Eric amidst the din. "What?" asked Mitzi. "I said, 'Yes dear'," Eric reiterated. " 'Yes' what?" asked Mitzi, confusion in her voice. Eric chuckled to himself. That Mitzi. "I said, 'Yes Dear, I am plucking my cockhair.'" "Oh good," yelled Mitzi. "I love it when you do that." Eric knew. He could tell from the way she sucked his cock after a good depilation. Too much hair diminished her enthuisiasm appreciably. "Ouch!" yelled Eric, yanking a hair free. "Are you OK?" yelled Mitzi, coming into the bathroom. "Yes, it's just..." began Eric. Mitzi gave Eric a coy look and then took the tweezer from Eric's hand. The wind blew in through the bathroom window. The breeze was oool, which means that it was both cool, and "oooh" producing. See: oool. As the oool breeze blew, Mitzi's head began to engage in repetitive_poetry of a horizontal nature. Eric felt great, and his smooth, hairless cock felt even greater. 080619 ... Skite Since 2004 . 080620 what's it to you? who go blather from