Escape to Mumuland: Part 4

With a smear of hunger flavoured lipstick I spanked the nasty milkman in the hopes of preventing a third world war. My balls lay drenched in the remains of his broken spatula, emanating a sudden chilly grinding noise that reminded me of the small Chinese man I had met the day before.

I used the paste to brush my sweaty teeth.

Catching him off guard, my harsh mountain of marshmallow jealousy enveloped his spiral with erotically violet baking powder. Of course, this wasn’t my first time. The milkman left feeling deflated and I watched him leave, satisfied as I fondled my dusty muffins, a pure liquid angst burning within my fingernails.


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