Ladies and gentle-manliness, I have reached the end of my work day. :::hooray!!:::::
Before I frolic out to my car, I thought I’d leave you with the following information.
I have an itch.
–That’s right, an itch. Yet it’s not an itch that is easily scratchable. No-no, this is one of those hard to reach itches, impossible even. Right now you should consider, if a delicate graze was all I needed to remedy this irritation, do you really think I would blog about it? This tingle I have exists deep within my body. So deep it breaches the caverns of my physicality and dives headstrong into the underbelly of my persona. Can you feel my soul? It’s stretched out spread eagle, stomach exposed, embracing the blistering elements, simply calling out for a graze or a rub. A graze or a rub. I make no regular exclamation. This is a yell... A SCREAM!!!! I demand from you, Tranny luck, bless me with the power of your chambray. Give me a tiny prickle, so that I may coolly hose down my itch, quenching my dryness while leaving my skin velvetly moisturized.
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