‘Dick Nukem’. ‘The Salisbury Cobra’. ‘Salchicha de la Muerte’.
These, and many more, are the names attributed to my junks. Once upon a time, my crotch rocket commanded not only the love and adoration of the people, but also the grudging respect of many elected officials. There were many who spoke in breathless whispers of my genitalia’s logic-defying, world-rocking abilities, and many more who pined after the merest glimpse of my man machine.
However, as with all of my sweaty, multi-partner fuck sessions, the good times have come to an end. Several testimonies delivered by chesty broads whose worlds I may or may not have rocked have come forward, saying that I allegedly blew their minds so hard they needed several surgeries and months of physical therapy to function normally again. Accounts of repeated aggravated property damage caused by my robust lovemaking have surfaced, and even the Surgeon General of the United States has issued a statement likening close encounters with my phallus to ‘a series of tactical missles delivered straight up the vagina’. As might be imagined, I and my schlong were stung by these allegations.
Well, me and my l’il Apache Chieftan have come to set the record straight. That’s right, I’m sitting down to an exclusive one-on-one interview with none other than that international superstar, MY PENIS!
(Applause, cheers)
MY PENIS: Thanks, Malcolm.
MALCOLM: My pleasure, My Penis. So tell me your reaction to the media firestorm regarding the damages allegedly caused by your irresponsible lady-taming.
MY PENIS: First off, Malcolm, let me just say that I have nothng but the deepest respect for the chesty broad community, and sincerely regret that my incredibly diverse pursuits of satisfaction within that community may have been interpreted as malicious.
MALCOLM: That’s fair.
MY PENIS: Thank you. Secondly, I put it forward that these attacks have been orchestrated by some malignant third party, bent on destroying friendly relations between myself and the chesty broads, who I cherish so sincerely.
MALCOLM: You mean, someone motivated by pure jealousy of your ludicrous sucesses inside the vagina.
MY PENIS: I couldn’t have said it better myself. To that end, I am offering a substantial reward for the live capture of this third party, whoever and wherever they may be.
MALCOLM: That’s right, folks. You heard it here first, My Penis is offering not one, not three, not five, but TEN rock-and-rolling below-the-belt encounters. Why don’t you tell us a little about them, My Penis?
MY PENIS: Malcolm, all I’m going to say is that if you aren’t delirious, weak in the knees, and babbling in tongues by the end of Encounter Number Four, then you’re likely paralyzed below the waist.
MALCOLM: Are there any restrictions to this phenomenal payout?
MY PENIS: As you know, I typically reserve my services to broads of the chesty variety.
MALCOLM: Who could forget?
MY PENIS: Given the urgency of the current situation, I am lifting this ban and extending the olive branch to broads of all denominations, provided they don’t have disfiguring skin conditions!
MALCOLM: Wow!
MY PENIS: You said it, Malcolm, and you’ll be saying ‘Wow’ too if you’re the lucky little filly who clears this whole nasty business up, allowing us to get down to some nasty business of our own.
MALCOLM: Thanks again for joining us, My Penis. Always great to have you.
MY PENIS: It was a pleasure. So was your girlfriend.
MALCOLM: Ha ha! She sure was!
So there you have it. Lines heading directly to my trouser trunk are now open, and standing by, waiting for your salacious theories. My Penis is also welcoming all fan mail through these channels, though he is asking that they are kept below two pages.
Hope I’ll be hearing from all of you soon!
