“Can you even believe I got cock-blocked by Jesus?” Diana’s question was one she returned to on occasions when she was stuck with a particularly disappointing penis the night before. “Edgar had the perfect penis . . . . . If I wasn’t getting cock-blocked by Jesus I would get to be with Edgar and wouldn’t have put up with this shit.” It is right about here in this well-worn dialogue where my internal digital tune-out turns on.
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Here are the basics: Diana is very fond of Edgar’s dick, Edgar found the Lord recently and is no longer sharing his dick with Diana, and Diana has to canvass Denver in search of another acceptable penis. Or, put another way: See Dick run. Run away from Jane, Dick. Here comes Jane. Run, Jane, run. Faster. Faster. Catch up with Dick and fuck the living Jesus out of him.
Or something like that.
Diana’s new gripe about Edgar is that he’s doing all sorts of fun not-very-good-Christian-boy things these days and leaving Diana in the dust. This includes stalking a stripper.
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Apparently Star (oddly, NOT her stage name) is a knock-out Amazon stripper. For the last few months she has been sending Edgar regular sexts including pictures of her crotch. Excited about the possibilities of being with a woman over six feet tall (Edgar is 5’ 3”), he has bought groceries for her, diligently dropped them off on her patio, and even included a toy for her cat. Edgar has never seen this beauty in person after months of cyber carrying on and so now he has coaxed Diana into being his private dick. He needs to know if Star is real.