Apparently I'm on an island that celebrates this sort of thing. News flash: pooping's not that big an accomplishment after a night of boozing. Particularly drinking beer.
Point in case: (real names withheld for the sake of safeguarding some last shred of dignity,) Sally and Billy were a couple of wild and crazy kids who spent most their days drunk on Bud Light and love.
Since their drinking schedule and level of consumption precluded them from doing the horizontal tango at night (limp dick, ya know), morning sex became their thing. And because Billy was a lazy fuck, Sally usually found herself riding him.
One should know this is dangerous for a couple reasons:
1) Gravity, &
2) Beer shits
Now couple that with the pressure of an above average-sized you know what cock-a-doodle-doing you, and what you end up with is chocolate covered balls. And I'm not talking about truffles.
Also, Billy lived with his parents. His very Mormon parents.
True story.
Sally eventually recovered, and after some therapy sessions, was able to jump back up on that pony - just not Billy's. And she switched to wine.
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