There is only one man I hate, and if you woke each morning next to his porcine snuffling, grunting and God awful scratching I'm sure you'd hate him to.... Thankfully this week's letter is from a small, insignificant piece of punctuation (bet you didn't see that cumming) and I've already girded my loins in anticipation of all the 'Grammer Nazis' complaints. So without any further ado: Dear Cum,Please, please help. I am at my wit's end, and you're my last hope, in fact, my only hope.You may recall. Not that there are any civilized folk around here, which is a blessing and a curse.”I do not want to hear about curses, I thought.She reached around and grabbed my manhood, washing it with equal vigor as anywhere else she had cleaned. I swear she lingered longer than necessary. To reach, she had to press against my back. The tingle in my length showed she was positively affecting me. Dropping to her knees she washed my bottom and the back of my legs. By the time she moved to my front, my brain. More

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