Going Rogue
Or is it Commando? I once wrote a poem about going commando, it was titled, Skid Marks on the Sofa. Creepy, I’ll admit but I was also wearing a Kilt at the time, or to be more correct, only wearing a Kilt at the time. It was a cold and dark night, my nipples stood out from the sparse hair on my chest like little pink diamonds sparkling in the dark. I don’t know about you, but I am thoroughly creeped out right now. Of course, all that is a lie, especially the diamond part. That’s what I call it... Sign in to see full entry.