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Who Is For Breakfast?

So what can I say? I have fallen in love with a stripper. I don't know if it is a cliche or if I am just lucky. It is damn hot, the things that she can do with her body up on that pole; I get a hard-on just thinking about it.

Needless to say, I am not mad at her; in fact, we are back together again. She is still fast asleep, curled up next to me. It feels all so fuzzy and warm; I can easily stare at her the whole day.

“Why are you staring at me with that stupid smirk on your face?”

The smile on my face only but grows wider as I pull her closer, “I don't have a stupid smirk on my face.”

“Then what is it.”

“A crooked smile.”

“You such a dumb ass.”

 “Do you want to go for breakfast somewhere?”

“Okay, what have you done to Trayton?”

“Whacked his ass and buried him in the garden.”

“That is not funny.”

“I think it is.”

“Then I think you sick.”

“Seriously now, do you?”

“Okay

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