Gosh, kids. I've had to really dig around in my email archives for more stories from Skankerella. Here is one I found today:
Darling De,
I have a Battery Operated Boyfriend (Bob). Bob is probably the most faithful boyfriend I've ever had. The only time he has ever let me down is when his batteries died and I forgot to buy new ones.
That was a rookie mistake. You always have to have back up batteries at home.
I kept Bob practically IN my bed. There use to be a nice little space right between the box springs and the bed frame that gave just enough room for Bob to rest comfortably and allowed for easy access.
I forgot all about Bob one night when I was entertaining a guest that wasn't operated by D cells.
We were rocking the bed pretty good. Moans of pleasure and grunts of satisfaction filled the room. Suddenly, like plagues of locusts, a noise unlike any other assaulted our ears. The bed started shaking as if an earthquake was rippling through my apartment.
"What the fuck is that?", my guest inquired.
Momentarily stunned, I started at him for a moment thinking those locusts sure sound familiar.
"Oh! It's Bob!"
Wow, nothing makes a man lose an erection faster than yelling out another man's name.
"Bob??", yelled my now flacid friend.
"Yeah!" I reached down to the side of the bed and picked up Bob. In our enthusiastic lovemaking, we must have shook the bed so hard that Bob was as turned on as we were. He was vibrating against the metal of the bed frame causing quite a raucous!
I held him up with pride. "Meet Bob."
I don't know why I never heard from my man friend again. He doesn't have anything to worry about. It's not like Bob can take me out to dinner or buy me jewelry. Sheesh!
Kisses,
Skankerella
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