Thin anal whore is eaten out by a bi girl, then dicked

Just four.

Only four? Do we have to use all ten?

There are two things I learned in my young adult life.

The first, never trust anyone with an intransitive verb as a name.

I learned that the hard way when I met my boyfriend Bludgeon.

After an altercation with his parole officer,

we quickly moved to Mexico and began what my boyfriend called an "exporting business."

It hurts. It hurts.

My name is Kate, and I'm what they call in the exporting business a "mule."

It's a rather demeaning term, but it kind of makes sense.

After all, when your boyfriend, who you love very much,

is jamming ten balloons full of ****** up your butt,

it's hard not to feel like a total jackass.

Here you go, babe. Packed and tight.

Here's your plane ticket.

When you get to L.A., you're going to meet a guy named Grip.

He's going to have some ********* you.

Great. Another intransitive verb.

This deal could open up new doors for us, pumpkin.

Just remember to be cool, okay?

I love you.

I love you, too.

And there it was.

The word that can make an ass out of any girl.

Love.

He loved me.

Never mind that he used that word to describe his affinity for things like nachos and sporting events.

...