Not one to shy away from the strange and the obscene, he thinks of some party tricks for tonight.
Ladies are many and boggle his mind, for he sees himself as an urban Casanova.
Unable to settle for one love, he prefers to love in threes or fours.
The time arrives, the guests are bouncing, and the party is swinging and shaking all about the mansion.
Beauty abounds and lovely young sights as he thinks of nibbling on chocolates or rose water delights.
Tricks do begin, but it’s the usual tosh, yet he’s thinking about what he can do.
With weird ideas swirling and too much bourbon soaking, he goes to the kitchen & thinks, “What do I have and what do I need to get my perversions on track?“
Looking and looking, he opens the cupboards and draws with swirling thoughts plaguing his mind. Searching the kitchen and not drawing attention, he grabs three sturdy blue spatulas.
Like Houdini on crack or DMT, he makes frosting enough for three cakes.
It’s causing some giggles and a few weird looks, but he’s too fucked in the head to agree.
The frosting is ready, and it tastes like a sweet dream, so he lines the bowls up on the bench.
He waits for the prudes and the boring to leave until ten of the lovelies remain.
Once properly pinched and appropriately plucked to shine bright, he smears frosting all over the nymphs. Once frosted, he moves in and starts to carnally satisfy his longing for sweets.
There’s frosting about and in places unseen, yet he beats his best record of four.
With ten lovely ladies all over him now, he’s a man in a heaven of sorts.