Darkroom

Little Marmalade Jars of Love.

The simple answer, if you press me, was that I adored her...dare I say, I loved her. Now, I know what you're thinking–this is blatantly heretical coming from THE Dragon Master of Masters. But, allow me to explain...

Over the course of 10 months, I consumed her words, absorbed her thoughts, cherished our conversations, and studied every nuance of her immaculate body. In short, she was different, I can assure you of this.

In the desolation that struck after the collapse of her previous relationship, my heart was filled with a desire to embrace and elevate her unto her rightful throne. When she gazed into my eyes, I felt an aristocratic air that permeated not only the lungs, but the senses, the imagination.

Knowing that she enjoyed the feeling of being filled with the life-sustaining semen of her male victims, I selflessly offered my seed. I decided that I would start collecting the main portions of my masturbatory sessions for her–preserving them in small marmalade jars that my packrat grandma had saved, and freezing them in our fridge (away from the poultry of course...in my usual considerate manner–I didn't want to spread salmonella).

In a month's time, I had enough creamy load to fill and breed her cum palace with my baby batter, with leftovers to baste that mouthwatering meaty pussy of hers with my cockalicious juices.

February 6th will forever be known in our relational history as, The Day of Insemination. The rest of the details of that particular day are between me and her.