Pop-Pop sponged away the layer of mucilaginous orgone residue from his epidermis, occasioning the odd soft sigh.
Dressed in freshly laundered terry towelling robes, he stepped tentatively out of the Orgasmatron booth, still closeted in post cyber-coital haze, and unplugged Paco-Paco – formally a postal droid – with a tug of sated fatigue.
Fake it till you make it
1 day ago
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