The Art of Verbally Fucking Someone

Not as in intercourse mind you, but in actually saying, “Hey! Hey fucker!……..Fuck you.”

“Fuck you” is the perfect way to end a sentence, whether you’re applying for a job, serving a customer, or meeting your in-laws for the first time, “Fuck you” puts a perfect bit of edge onto whatever you’re saying. Here’s an example of a real-life instance where “Fuck you” helped yours truly out in a situation of need.

I was coming back from the brothel one night, after just having my asshole licked by a dark haired transvestite, which I found odd, because I wanted a brunette with huge tits to have sex with, but I figured that it was best not to split hairs. I had a few to drink, and pulling out my tankard filled with fire-water, I took a giant swig and scoffed down a good 7 or 8 shots. Suddenly, I had the urge to take off my clothes. (Is this story going anywhere? Not really. Let me continue). After I had disposed of my black leotards and frilled overcoat, I felt at ease with the world, dancing down the streets with my penis flapping loftily in the cool night air. The stars were shining, and as I gazed up at the moon, in it’s crescent shape, I did not notice the hobo that I accidentally stepped on, trampling across his unshaven face. I was pretty pissed of that he effectively put a halt to my gallivanting, and, looking down, I realized that his face was not unshaven, but had instead been covered with a massive assortment of different types and shades of pubic hair.

“I can’t grow a beard,” growled the hobo, brandishing a pair of sharp scissors. “so I steal under-pubes from passer-byes like yourself.”

I stopped and looked down at my delicately taken care of pubic thunder-dome, which I had recently shaved into the shape of a little squirrel, who I had named Susan and had come to love like a brother. I looked back up and met the gaze of the pubic muzzled hobo, who smelled distinctly of cheese.

“Fuck you.” I told him in a serious voice, with tones of a troubled past.

“Well, ok then,” shouted the hobo carelessly.

And there you have it. That is the story of how “Fuck you” saved my pube squirrel, Susan, from a hobo who smelled distinctly of cheese.

More stories of how “Fuck you” saved people to come, so Fuck You.

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