Gingerbread Heaux House: Living in Pussy Witness Protection
GINGERBREAD HEAUX HOUSE, GINGERBREAD HEAUX HOUSE! Repeatedly in my head, I have to remind myself that I’m not dreaming. They say that I have a magical pussy that needs to be protected. Elf No. 4 takes me into the courtyard, where there is an oracle waiting for us. I like a candy cane and dip it in the pool of water, then the oracle shows me my past, present, and future.
If I had never entered Pussy Witness Protection under the covering of the Gingerbread Heaux House, I would have never known the trouble I’ve caused all of my sexual encounters. It makes me question if I have the Midas touch or if I’m some sort of succubus.
SCREW ME & LEAVE ME BE!
The motto of my life has been to get it in, have fun while I’m doing it and go on my merry way. Sadly, I’ve left guys in the looney bin, broken up happy households, made men rich, hyped them up so much that it was detrimental to their health, and caused cosmic and magical occurrences because they were able to harvest my sexual energy.
My lessons from the Gingerbread Heaux House have lead me to believe that all vaginas are magical portals, but few know how to use them. Very few men understand that they must pray into the pussy as if it were the palms of their hands. Yet every man I allow to enter me prays into my pussy as if it were a wishing well.
If I knew about the Gingerbread Heaux House before now, I’d be a millionaire or wealthier by now. This Wishing Well of a vagina that I tote about would be put to work. Music plays randomly in the background based on the topic at hand. I can hear #JuiceWrld #WishingWell now shifting to #Gary More’s “Wishing Well” a true #MonsterofRock.
Am I A Monster?
Do I really have monster pussy, or are those guys #pussymonsters as #Lil’Wayne would say (giggles). Going to the in-house therapist here at the Gingerbread Heaux House has given me an affinity for telephonic relief artistry and so I want to become a phone sex operator and do phone sex therapy sessions with the guys I’ve enchanted.
Give me a month or two and I’ll be an expert in hypnosis. There is a class on it here at the Gingerbread Heaux House. I’m taking courses on writing in HTML, being a Muse, using my pussy power to change the world, and how to swim in loads of cum.
I Have a Sweet Tooth!
These candy canes are just like peppermint-flavored cocks. Every time I make a snowball it forms into a soft plastic with a cum filled center as if it were a water balloon. The snowball fights here are lethal and messy. The snow doesn’t melt on your skin like ice; more so, marshmallow cream. Just like cum, everything exciting turns to cum. Is it my perverted mind doing all of this?
FRESH MEAT!
I’m fresh meat for their master. What is their master? Is he a good master? How girthy is that cock? I wonder if he has a pencil dick? …
The voice of God echoes through the room: “Come sit on my lap and tell Santa what Brandy would like for Christmas.” The elves left me alone in a room with a throne chair. Perched up like royalty, Santa motions for me to sit in his lap. I darn near run and pounce on him.
Santa: I see you have the reindeer spirit! Now tell Santa what my pretty girl wants for Christmas.
Brandy: All I want for Christmas is you!
Santa: The world has me for Christmas, you can have me the next day. Just don’t kill me with that magical vagina of yours (chuckles).
Check back with me on Sunday to hear all about the day after Christmas with Ole Saint Nicholas!
