Tiffany Amber Thiessen

When you wake up in the morning and you’ve got a raging hard on, and you don’t think you’ll ever yank it on time.  By the time you grab your stooge and drench your duvet in your splooge, you’re at the corner just in time to see the bus fly by.

Iiiiiiiiiiiit’s alright, cos I’m saved by the bell.

Ah, Kelly Kapowski.  For years she was the bullseye target on my dart cum board.  So pure and innocent looking, but we all knew she wasn’t really pure and innocent because she was having 4 ballers with AC Slater and Poncy McPoncerson himself, Zack Morris.  Imagine the teabagging that went on.  Filthy harlot.

Then she grew up and this happened:

Poncy McPoncerson and AC Slater have been replaced by magnificent nipples of the erect and visible variety.  Sure, either she went through puberty when she hit 23, or she fought for her residual cheques from the show and celebrated with a nice well earned pair of jublees.  In fairness, I don’t care how they happened.  Maybe God said “Let Kelly have a juicy set of jumper monsters”.  And they were good.  Amen.

God then replied: “Right, she can have a ripe pair of creamers, but she can’t have any clothes.  It’s a two way street there bud”. Who was I, or anyone to argue?  He knew what he was up to.  She felt a little silly being completely in the nip all the live long day, so she grabbed a sarong from the local charity shop.  Then the heavens opened up and his holiness boomed:  “You have covered your pork pocket with what looks like a discarded cheap duvet cover, you shall forever have a sexy whisp to your hair where you can only see out of one eye.”. And so it was done.

Still with the whisp of the hair and the one blind eye she surrendered the table cloth in the hopes of some mercy.  God asked me what he should do and I said, replace the tatty curtains with a sombrero.  He was all out of Mexican head wear, so he gave her a big floppy hat so that she might shade her new nipples form the scorching sun.  She wasn’t happy, but I was.  So was my bum bum tickler.

Finally she whined so much that we gave her a dress to cover up with, but she had to keep the pout and whispy hair and sit there and watch as I churn up another load of baby batter and unload it all over her firm, pert and squished up in that new dress chesticles.  It was the best day.

Finally she gave in and became my personal little sausage wallet.  It earned her the priveledge of being able to wear clothes for a small portion of the day.  The portion when she has to go out and get me beer and dinner.  The rest of the time she gets to crawl around my bed with a “come in my hair” kind of look slapped all over her face.  She can still only see out of one eye, but by the time I’m finished giving her my own special facial, she’ll need a white stick and a labrador to get out of the room.