Topic: Dearest $$$$$exyGal
I am more than capable of making an on topic post here, but I shan't. Instead I'd like to take a moment to talk about my cock, if I may, to familiarize you with the events that are about to take place. It resembles nothing in shape so much as a fire extinguisher; a red cylinder with a circumference about equal to a petri dish and as long as a regulation yardstick, networked with throbbing veins big enough to drive a Matchbox car through, and topped by a nearly luminescent magnificent red head, as big as a mid-size cantaloupe and covered in skin the consistency of #4 grain sandpaper. I could fit your little sister's arm in my urethra.
So I'll come over to your house, introduce yourself to your Mom and talk a little bit about what I'm going to do to your anus, lay down some tarps on the floor, and commence what will no doubt be the crowning achievement of your life, even better than watching your 'fans list' growing in size. I will sodomize you like God was riding on my shoulder whispering instructions into my ear, little miss $$$$$exyGal, and this is how it'll be done.
When i was dating a girl who rather enjoyed being fisted, the first thing I learned was how to 'make the ducky,' or shape your hand into a position that could slip into the vagina with the least resistance. Then, when entrance had been achieved, the position of the hand was changed to a fist to offer more stimulus. Unfortunately for you, my cock cannot make the ducky. It's just going to have to use brute pelvic force to stretch your brown-walled turd canal to it's utmost. You may wish to practice in the intervening hours with King Cobra malt beverage bottles, just to reduce the intense, searing pain a notch or two.
There will be pain, however, and I am not cruel. I will provide you with a damp rag to clutch between your teeth, muffling the grunts and lamentations from your mouth. One would think that my pleasure would be reduced from this measure, but I must confess that I find the sounds of your rupturing colon and the gases escaping sufficiently erotic to continue my explorations. Once my cock has reached it's limit, buried deep inside you like Grant in Grant's Tomb, the true sex will begin. You and I will bond like few people can, and I may finally come to know your affection for mindless fans, which I have never supported and never will, and you will begin to know the blinding joy of forced sodomy.
And, as few people know (well, actually, SexyKellyOsbourne knows, as my pimp, and WipoTroll of course before he killed himself, and John Katz from that time in the bunker when we both thought we were going to die, and PhysicsScholar and RealWorldStuff of course know in exchange for the free education, and CmdrTaco, Hemos, Jamie, Timothy and Pudge know as valued johns, and as Rusty knows because he's from the Kur0shin.org and I fucked him), my penis is covered in a number of barbs, much like a dog's, and during coitus, these prevent my unit from slipping out of the blood-lubricated hole and disrupting my tearing rhythm. Upon orgasm, as pints of spooge rocket out of my pee-hole, burning through whatever they encounter like that burny stuff in the Alien movies, the barms withdraw and my flaccid member can resume it's rightful place in my pants.
Unfortunately, $$$$$exyGal, once I had worked my monster cock all the way up your digestive system, your immense, fat-tittied disgustingness would make it impossible for me to ever have an orgasm again, and my penis would be stuck running parallel to your spinal column for the forseeable future. Of course, I'd cut your arms and legs off to lighten the load a bit, and have my Dad bring over the Makita power sander so I wouldn't have to look at your foolish face with the first little wisps of a female-moustache growing (and I've heard hair grows after you die, so I bet that thing'll look REALLY BITCHIN once you're super dessicated) and I'd just have to wait for you to rot yourself off of my dick, as I'll be damned if we're gonna do any cutting in there. Needless to say, this does not appeal to me.
Sadly, however, I see no other options. Best tell your mom I'm on my way. I'd like peanut butter sandwiches and a tall, cool glass of milk to be waiting for me. It's gonna be a long day.