Lois Griffin

Ladies get ready to stir your porridge.

Gentlemen get ready to cook up some chowder.

Some of you may feel a little weird about knocking out a sly one to this week’s choice, but for regular readers you’ll know that I’ve been peeling the carrot to many a fantasy woman.

And they don’t come any more fantasy than of the animated variety.

I give you the ever aniwanktastic:

Lois Griffin.

As if you wouldn’t.

But if you still need convincing of why you’d want to crawl upon this painted lady and dip your nib in her inky pot of goodness, try this one on for size.

Oh no, she’s lost her teeny weeny bikeeny top.

Om nom nom nom nom nom.

Now being the first red head on the wank fo the week series so far, you may wonder why I’d opt for Lois instead of the Alyson Hanningan’s or the Isla Fisher’s of the world.  Well, all in good time.

I’m not nearly as fat as Peter Griffin, but it’s nice to know that if I ever was a properly animated character and I got the chance to burrow into her furry glen that I’d have a long way of letting myself go before she’d object.  And as for the furry glen remark, the beauty of an animated woman is that if it is furry you can just erase it or draw it into the form of Marge Simpson.  That’d be awesome.

If you could be a superhero, which one would you be?

I’d be Illustratinator and my superpower would be to draw a full sized version of Lois in a one piece yellow thingy.  I’d give her the power of being able to deepthroat my fully engorged and erect 4 inch monster.  So far not a feat any woman has managed to date.  That has to be the reason they gag before they even open their mouths, doesn’t it?

No she’s not shelling shea shells on the shea shore, inshtead she’s shtranded on a deshert Ishland and waiting for me and bury myself in her crusty reef like a hermit crab.  Even if she already had a few down there, I’d munch those crunchy bad boys up with a heavy helping of her very own cocktail sauce.

Om nom nom nom nom nom.

But Mrs Griffin, if I fail this class my parents will be so angry with me and I’ll be grounded.  What’s that?  All I have to do is lap you up like a kebab after a heavy night on the hooch?  Then all I have to do is inhale the full aroma you’ve left for me in those shoes before sucking your toes like strawberry Chupa Chupps?  Then I have to give you the full girth of my incredible member before unloading all over those glorious gobstoppers that are barely contained in that blouse?

Fine, if that’s what I have to do to stay in your class, then I’ll do it.

Will you punish me if I enjoy it?