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For Vella and Abs: The Surrealist Compliment Generator

Nirvanadragones

Nirvanadragones

Literotica Guru
Joined
Sep 9, 2005
Posts
14,399
Not that I think either of you need this . . . but we enjoy your creative insult show so much, I thought these would inspire you to greaterness. ;)

Go here

My favourite three . . . so far -

  • Your face does bend even the most anorexic mirror into a sensuous playground of muscular spasms.
  • Your eyelids refract the turgid limnations of an eel trapped in flickering cinematographic paralysis.
  • Your unexpected explosion entangles us in a web of premature umbrellas and precocious timepieces.
 
You mutter such objects of equine delight that the mind's ability to sew slices of mordant ivory becomes tamed with visions of Tamils in Constantinople.
 
Your wit, your teeth, your pasty reflection can but incorporate freely into the powerful surface of a disintegrating mirror set afloat upon a swarm of locusts.
 
Your aquiline senescence implores me to generalize within the relms of a starfish's lifelong hallucinations of gelatin pools and of actuaries floating upon the Rhine.
 
Your legs are like threads of cotton, though much thicker, and filled with weevils.

*Snerk* I said this to Amy and she gave me a weird look and said "Thanks," then walked away shaking her head! :D
 
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Sausage casings are not the intended consequence of fashionable dress

:D
 
Your beautiful bulgarian bricks stack like the thousand eyes of Estonian potatos, peering amid fuzzy dreams of corrugated cardboard.



That makes me swoon.
 
Your presence reminds one of a blind jackal, eternally dependent upon misguided archbishops to provide instruction in bowling.
 
evanslily said:
Sausage casings are not the intended consequence of fashionable dress

:D
Click to expand...
Very true! In fact, I would argue that fashionable dress seeks to free the sausage from its casing and let it become tumescent. :cool:
True Wisdom comes from strange places. :devil:
 
May your shit always sport dog on the bottom of your shoe.


Tribes of primitve hunters, with rhinestone codpieces rampant, should build pyra mids of Chevy engines covered in butterscotch syrup to exalt the diastolic, inef fable, scintillated and cacophonous salamander of truth which slimes and distracts from each and every orifice of your holy refrigerator, Sears be its brand.


Madame, your implement is admonishing me!



golly thats was fun:eek::D

Your skin emanates such a porcelain sheen that I am tempted to stamp WC under your bosom and across your armpits.

(one more couldnt resist LOLOL thank you that really was fun)
 
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You wear your breasts like a man with an uncontrollable bulge in his apartment.

:D :D :D
 
Your hair sends forth a sheen remniscent of a wounded man streaming bandage gauze from the highest church steeple.
 
I would beg to see your arms raised in calcification towards the expanding horizon as the minutemen stand before me with their phallic gums aimed and loaded.

Interesting.
 
You turn the atmosphere wild with currents of vitriol when you smile at the passing insects.

What disturbs me is that I understand this. :eek:
 
I like this one. :rose:

In your presence even my shadow acquires the sensation of touch.
 
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