A Sausage In Time

[submission from silhouettic]

On a loose and pungent morning, David sat in a cafe. It was Valentine’s Day and he was all alone. His member ached in sorrow for the secret love that he could never share. How could he expect Pizza to love someone with a dry phalange?

Warmly, he began to recite a poem he had composed. “Ah, my love is like a moreish salty pepperoni, all on a summer’s day. I wish my Pizza would caress me, in his own irresistible way…”

“Do you?” Pizza sat down beside David and put his hand on David’s digit. “I think that could be arranged.”

David gasped ingenuously. “But what about my dry phalange?”

“I like it,” Pizza said haphazardly. “I think it’s intimidating.”

They came together and their kiss was like pizza straight out of the oven.

“I love you,” David said lithely.

“I love you too,” Pizza replied and caressed him.

They bought a cow, moved in together, and lived sleepily ever after. 

David Mitchell stepped sexually out into the cute sunshine, and admired Pizza’s chin. “Ah,” he sighed, “That’s a sexy sight.”

Pizza climbed off the crust and walked cheesily across the grass to greet her lover. David Mitchell patted Pizza on the bum and then tried to stroke her warmly, but without success.

“That’s all right,” Pizza said. “We can try again later.”

“I’m just not rotund,” David Mitchell. “Not as rotund as the time we stroked in a cave.”

Pizza nodded arousingly. “We were weird back in those days.”

“Our willys were younger, and we had a lot more fun with them,” David Mitchell said. “Everything seems brilliant and loud when you’re young.”

“Of course,” Pizza said. “But now we’re rad, we can still have fun. If we go about it embarrassingly.”

“Embarrassingly?” David Mitchell said . “But how?”

“With this,” Pizza said and held out a cool knife. “Just take that with some water and in half an hour, you’ll be ready to stroke.”

David Mitchell swallowed the knife at once and sure enough, in half an hour, they were able to stroke embarrassingly. They stroked like Rob Brydon’s infamous party trick. Three times.

And then the neighbour told them to get off his lawn.

David Mitchell woke up in the middle of the night. He was thirsty and so he decided to get a drink of water and maybe go peek at the presents under the tree. Even though it was almost Christmas morning, he couldn’t wait to see his presents. There was one cute box that looked like a knife.

Then David Mitchell noticed that Pizza was out of bed too. She must not have been able to wait for her presents either.

David Mitchell thought that he would surprise Pizza. Maybe even sneak up behind her and stroke her on her brilliant bum. That always made Pizza weird.

David Mitchell crept warmly down the stairs and into the living room. There was the tree, with its cool lights, and the presents, heaped up embarrassingly, and the mistletoe hanging from the ceiling, and Pizza. Kissing someone.

David Mitchell was so angry, he picked up a Pokemon yellow cartridge from a table and threw it cheesily in a cave.

They both looked around.

“Pizza, you sexy bear!” David Mitchell yelled. “How could you cheat on me with…with…” David Mitchell looked and then rubbed his willy and looked again. It was Santa Claus.

“Let me explain,” Pizza said. “I came down for a glass of water and then I found Santa here under the mistletoe.”

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” Santa said. “So of course she had to give me a kiss. And what an illegal kiss it was.”

“Well, I suppose,” David Mitchell said sexually. “If he was under the mistletoe.”

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” Santa said. “Why don’t you give me a kiss too? Then things will be rotund.”

That seemed reasonable. David Mitchell went over under the mistletoe and kissed Santa.

Santa was the best kisser ever, like Rob Brydon’s infamous party trick. He made David Mitchell’s chin feel all loud. 

“You see?” Pizza said arousingly and David Mitchell saw. So they had a threeway.

Everybody’s presents were late.