This article is part of the The Great Authors Series series.
Subj: URGENT!! ONE THOUSAND POUNDS OWED TO YOU!
DENMARK BANK (BoD) IS HOLDING A THOUSAND POUNDS IN FUND FOR YOUR PERFUMED BUM SILKIES
My lovely little farting darling,
Congratulazioni! You have unclaimed funds!
I must apologize, sweet Nora, in my shameful haste to inform you previously of this incredible discovered treasure, I wrote at some length about the steaming kettle of your cunt. I hope that you did not find offense, or if found, that your musky netherlips swelled as bee-stung fingers.
Oh, Nora, when I read at my Official Bank of Denmark desk that you go about with no wrap on your precious fuckholes, my heart beat with doubled tempo. If I am to properly inhale the rank raunch of your haunch and tongue my way through your whorish forest I must have you in drawers.
With great cheer, the Bank of Denmark has discovered such a perfect amount of money to wrap every plump portion of you in the finest bedroom garments. A sum from a deceased prince of Denmark, to be inherited by my sweet, fat, pissy princess. My manager, the President of the Bank of Denmark, commented on this matter also and has given it highest priority. You must act quickly, dear, or the government will claim this fund.
There will be silkies for you, Nora. Great, Parisian silkies for me to tear down your thighs and stuff between your bubbies to quiet your screams. All you must do is provide me with your ID card numerals and a simple bank routing number.
Dear, sweet, fuck-crazy little Nora, I must have this information to transfer the money to your account. That would be as fine to me as the sound of your shit. The money is already yours and belongs in your account as surely as my filthy come belongs in your bum. Oh, Nora, my darling, my grunting Venus, I wish I could smell your toilet at this very moment.
With great urgency, I plead to you, on my rug-red knees, send me your ID numerals and the digits of your checking information to inherit this money. With the crass matter of funding no longer dividing us, we will be free to fuck in the rain ditch like two escaped piggies. I will tickle your smelliest insides with my naughty finger.
Mio caro, we will be together again, to stink up every room of the house, to smear our bodies from wall to the rooftop. I long for you to be wealthy with this money near as much as I long to give your arse the horn.
Nora, I cannot wait to receive your banking and identification information. Help with that, my little brown-holed concubine.
I curse every day my cock isn't up you!
Official Officer of Bank of Denmark
No one seems to like the new Doom box art. But it's still the same old Doom Guy under that space marine helmet. Right?
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