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Eminent Egyptologist Fitzhume Tweevil applied to his rumpled scrotum a generous dollop of the feebleminded shaman's magic balm. The gooey substance reeked of saffron, an odor that never failed to cast Tweevil's mind back to his days as a serge-suited schoolboy, when his lubricious, Afghan nanny, Jibberella (whose personal effluvium included saffron, curry and onion), would administer his postprandial enemas whilst frigging his gargantuan, yet still hairless, root. It was this memory, coupled with the bracing sting of the ointment, that caused our esteemed scholar's syphilitic testicles to secrete their gelatinous load: a surprisingly clotted substance whose deep ocherousness, herald of his diseased, stillborn sperm, reminded him once again of saffron and enemas, and consequently, produced another, more powerful ejaculation.
"By Isis' cunt," Tweevil thundered, as he wrung the last drops of his yellow fuck directly into his unclean navel, "Oh, mercyshit! Cock and snatch! Balls and vulva! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!"
'Twas his last such pleasure, sad to say.
Date Written: December 30, 1899
Average Vote: 4.6