Friday, March 28, 2008
Panties of Redemption - Jesus' General
Friday, March 28, 2008
Panties of Redemption
A(n) (A)rousing testimonial about why
John Smid won't "Spank His Man-Monkey"
John Smid
Love in Action
Homosexual Internment Center
Dear Mr. Smid,
I hear you are stepping down as Love in Action's director.
That's a shame. You will be dearly missed.
I trust you will be staying around long enough to assist in the selection of your successor. It's my hope that you'll pick someone who will continue promoting the values and concepts you championed during your tenure, someone who has adopted your philosophy and put it into practice in his own life. In short, someone like me. I wish to be considered for the position.
I'll never forget the day I first heard you speak about how your "wife's vagina was enough."
I remember silently praying as I heard it, "please God, give me what this man has. I too want to be satisfied by my wife's vagina."
He eventually answered that prayer, but I have to admit it was something with which I had to struggle for many months. It just didn't seem very manly to put my little soldier into such a warm and snuggly place. And it wasn't just a mental thing. Private Johnson would mutiny by refusing to come to attention every time I tried it.
Then one night, after a couple of failed attempts, I turned on the tee vee next to the bed. Ben Hur was on. It was the scene where Chuck Heston is reunited with his old friend, Stephen Boyd. And what do you know, suddenly my little soldier was raring to go. I immediately made another attempt on the vagina, craning my neck so I could see the television screen, and by gosh it worked. Finally, my wife's vagina was enough for me too--that and a copy of Ben Hur (I later learned that John Wayne's Sands of Iwo Jima and anything featuring Abe Vigoda work as well). I think it's because the addition of the movie made the vagina seem just a little less girlie.
Following your advice on masturbation was much easier. Like with you, the choice of underwear played a key role in defeating the temptation. The briefs I had worn up until then were a problem. They squeezed my manparts, and in doing so, aroused me. Boxers were no better.
They allowed my Private Johnson to swing freely, his helmet constantly brushing against the fabric in a seductive dance that fueled the flames of my lust like a burst of gasoline in the number three cylinder of a 427 Hemi.
It was only after I began wearing silky ladies underthings that my libido finally went into sleep mode. The deep red, french cut panties you find at Victoria's Secret seem to work the best, although I enjoy the nice black g-string trimmed with white lace and crimson hearts I picked up at Frederick's of Hollywood too.
So you see, I'm the perfect choice to replace you. I've not only heard your words, I've lived them.
Heterosexually yours,
Gen. JC Christian, patriot
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