Teeth
There are moments in life when gender ambiguous grinning balls of douche-white find themselves gripping two hotties on either side at the exact moment a camera flashes. Most moments in life, this doesn’t happen. And then it does.
This is one of those moments.
The curves on these two objects of adoration can not be understated in any meaningful way. Or, to rephrase: they’s hot as hell.
And then there’s this chicken necked white-on-white scrote. Grinning at us as if to say, “Hey, I may have no chest hair, and I may get mistaken for a raging bull dyke on occasion, but this is still me. And you’re still you.”
I would take him to the local amusement park, strap him to the Tilt-O-Whirl and set it on “High,” then take these two for ice-cream and popcorn while we watch the new season of Battlestar on my portable LCD wristwatch T.V. While Oompa-Loompas play Turkish fighting songs on trumpets while riding shetland ponies. Damn my fantasies are getting esoteric.
