Sisters and Acolytes
June is upon us and I feel we should celebrate the warmer weather and sunshine in true British (and Oirish) style by removing the clothing from our Lord's *praise be his name and ten-inch* torso and gaze in awe and wonder at the deliciousness of the chest hair that lies beneath.
We know that the Lord's hair in other places has the effect of destroying bloomers and causing the Sisters many hours in solitary confinement with only her spatula for company contemplating bad thoughts. The rufflable bedhead, the strokable stubble, those sidies that we could ski down... they all have their place in the photo album of pervitude.
Now it is the turn of that most secretive and shy growth across the Lord's most perfect pecs that we must turn our attention to. Imagine Sisters, laying your head on that warm mass of curls, hearing the steady beat of the Lord's heart and feeling the rise and fall of His chest against your cheek. I will not continue this thought in public, though I am sure you are wayyyy ahead of me in what happens next... I shall find myself a dark corner of the room to meditate on the many possibilities. I may be some time, a search party is not necessary thank you.
I bloody love the Summer!