I'll bet you didn't know ice cream could be so sexy?
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The article goes on to tell us about Gabi's first ice cream-induced orgasm in her late teens whilst frequenting an ice cream parlour named 'Wickedy Splits' (I'm not making this up, honest. It wouldn't be in the paper if it wasn't true). Describing her experience at the hands of Hagen-daz, she recounts the building pressure within, following its progress through her entire body until it left her panting and flushed.
(Apologies if that last sentence made any of you hot or flushed. I forget that you don't have a photo of miss Jones in front of you to temper your passion.)
Would you believe that Gabbi's friends thought her a charlatan, that she was making it all up? Cynical bastards!
Anyway, that was all 16 stones (224 pounds) ago, and rather than feel embarrassed about her public sexy time, Gabbi has, instead, embraced the orgasm and purchased herself an ice cream maker. (I mentioned earlier that I'm not making this up, right?)
Fair play, I say. She's obviously one of the lucky ones since, according to my research of her condition, Gabi's affliction doesn't seem to be constant as it is in other sufferers. Normally, with the exception of known triggers, symptoms are sudden and impossible to predict.
Well, Gabi has most certainly found her 'trigger' and proceeds to shoot the absolute fuck out of her herself whenever she rams that cold, sugar-laden spoon into her gob.
I wonder if different flavours of ice cream might trigger varied orgasmic effects?
Perhaps Vanilla, the most common and easily purchased, might be the air rifle of ice creams; lots of show, but just a tickle at the end. Then there's Mint-choc-chip. Might that be the farmer's shot gun? A big blast followed by a spray of pellets. Then, for me, there's the royalty of ice cream, Rum & Raisin, a veritable Gattling gun of sex.
The possibilities are endless.
Because of Gabi's isolated and amazingly fortunate trigger her pleasure centre will never lose its lustre, its shine will never dull. In-fact, miss Jones, a 35 stones (490 pounds) hiking and swimming enthusiast..........s-s-seems to have honed her orgasms to such a fine point of control that she feels confident enough to share them with the world via the modern wonder of the internet.
Courtesy of a specially constructed wiiiiiiiiiiiiide-screen, LCD web-cam, 48DDD Gabi sexes up the planet via her own website, gaininggabi.com.
Yes, from only Â£10 per month we can all watch young Gabi scoff herself to orgasm; shudder as the creamy delight melts in her mouth, groan as it slinks seductively down her chiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiin.
Perhaps there exists a hardware catalogue where customers can choose between air rifle, shotgun or gattling? Furthermore, might the price range vary in accordance with the more expensive ammunition? And what about 'back episodes'? re-runs of Gabi's most glorious nights?
Which brings to mind another inquiry, what does Gabi wear for all those cash-paying punters when in front of her sexual firing squad? Trawler-net stockings? A GGG-string from Ann Sumo's? Does she, in-fact wear anything at all?
I know what you're all thinking, of course, I'm not mad. You reckon my herring has already perused Miss Jones' website and these questions are not as hypothetical as I would have you believe. Well, persistent sufferer, that's where you're wrong.
The scaly scoundrel did indeed try (so he whispers in my ear) but, as I've just explained, gaininggabi.com requires a Â£10 donation and since he's just a fish, and a metaphorical one at that, he was a little too slow in getting his fins on my plastic purchaser.
My bank balance, of course, laments his sluggishness. Had he been that trifle speedier, he might have prevented Mrs Kosy from using my credit card as a fiscal harpoon with which to hunt shoes.