Please Contact Your Nearest Voodoo Lounge free porn video

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Please Consult Your Nearest Voodoo Lounge By Mr.20" Biceps I went to see my doctor today. He said there was nothing he could do. That it was some kind of new virus going around and not even an antibiotic shot would help. Funniest named disease I'd ever heard of though: Zapperwithdrawalsyndrome! "WTF is that?" I said in complete shock. "Beats me" he said, "try consulting the nearest new age voodoo lounge. Perhaps they can help. I've nothing to give you. The CDC doesn't even know anything about it." the doctor said as he scratched the top of his head. "But doctor," I said, "the pain is killing me. I can barely get out of bed." My doctor whom I'd just paid a high co-pay just to get a mere ten minutes just shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps," he said in his best Minnesotan accent, "a day in bed is just what is called for to clear your mind." "What are you saying doctor that I'm some sort of hypochondriac; that I'm losing my mind?" His big brown eyes bore into my soul. I couldn't take that or his silly recommendation. "You want me to stay in bed to get over this - whatever it fucking is for the entire day? Is that correct doctor?" My doctor slowly shook his head from side to side. "No," he said, "the second half of my prescription is to stay in bed for the entire day with the partner of your choice. This will most definitely help you clear your mind." "But doctor, I'm single! What am I supposed to do?" I asked my eyes as big as dinner plates. He shrugged his shoulders again and cleared his throat. "So, go to the nearest Adult Toys 'R' Us store and purchase a blow up doll. That will fix your problem as easy as 123." "What?" My doctor just scoffed at me and gave me a hard look. "Unless, you already have one, then never mind," he said rather casually. The little examination room was so silent I could hear my own heart beat and it wasn't relaxed in the least bit. I looked at my doctor with a thousand questions running through my brain and nothing came out of my mouth. Our eyes locked. "Fantasize, my boy," he said as he wrote everything down in my permanent record. My PERMANENT RECORD... The End

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