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Immured within the high walls of their scratchy, wooly collar, Dresden Vagaboutís cheeks maintained their sinecure as Blushmaster, despite his upstart penisís eager beaver brown nosing, which landed it not so much a career path toward that rosy mastery up which it ever aspired to climb, as much as a certain crimson stiffness which, despite Dresdenís vigorous and mean-spirited abuse, he was never able to quite beat out of it. This left Dresden in an awkward position (doggie style), having hinted at his cock on more than one occasion that the coveted scarlet position might be its, and having, despite his history of broken promises, harbored a keenly honorable sense of self which in no way allowed for the deception which every day nonetheless he continued and, in fact only increased the scandalousness of. What was to be done? Cotton clad, his man flesh stirred in his pants, invigorated by its ambition and that steady though meager ration of daily engorgement blood which it had been afforded, and summoned its vital influence toward an inevitably groping power grab.
As Misfortune would have it, however, Desdenís butcherís niece was on her way to his house at the moment of crisis and so his cock, emboldened by such prime meat, prevailed and earned its current titular epithet as phallus sanguinus maximus, after which the popular albeit now-too-commercial holiday Sanguimax was named.
Date Written: December 29, 2003
Author: Ewan Snow
Average Vote: 4.25