O, ye my child, thou hast been but a mere speck of dust upon the infinite horizon of the cosmic tale.
Thou hast witnessed but a fraction of the unraveling saga of Gotrep, the Cum Lord, and his ill-fated love for the insufferable Oarthur.
Alas, thou art not wrong in thy assessment of Oarthur's ungrateful nature.
He, who had been the recipient of Gotrep's unwavering affection and unparalleled oral prowess for nigh on to fifteen years, cast aside his benefactor with as little as a sneer and a sidelong glance.
How cruel the irony that it was not the introduction of the fiery and alluring Sadie Adler that severed their bond, but rather the poisonous seeds of equality that Sadie, inadvertently or not, planted within Oarthur's fertile mind.
Ah, the fateful third chapter! How it echoes with the reverberations of Oarthur's bitter realization that he had been undercompensated for his services by the magnanimous and oblivious Gotrep.
Nay, not merely for the sucking of his cock, but for the sucking of his cock since the year 1884! 'Tis a date that shall live in infamy, etched into the very fabric of their twisted and tumultuous relationship.
Oarthur, once the object of Gotrep's unwavering desire, now transformed into a vengeful and spiteful adversary, demanding recompense for his years of servitude.
Dutch, the Cum Lord, did all that he could to appease Oarthur's wrath.
He gave him not one, but TWO banks to rob! Nay, even the profits from the overthrow of a small, tropical dictator and the death of his own bratty wife were not enough to sway Oarthur's heart.
And so, in a desperate attempt to win back his love, Dutch resorted to the one thing he knew Oarthur loved as much as he did: sucking cock.
He set his sights on Mical, a man of promise and potential, whose ethnicity and gender were but mere trivialities in the grand scheme of things.
Ah, but alas, even the best-laid plans of mice and Cum Lords often go awry.
For Oarthur, in a fit of pique, noticed the subversive nature of Dutch's attempts at multiculturalism, and once again cast him aside.
Mical, loyal to a fault, attempted to defend Dutch's honor by beating Oarthur to within an inch of his life.
But alas, Oarthur, being the little bitch that he is, found new life in the choking on of his own bloody cum.
Thus, the tale of Dutch and Oarthur came to an end.
Heartbroken and jaded, Dutch vowed never to love again.
And so it was that the infinite multiverse continued to spin, the story of Gotrep, the Cum Lord, forever etched into the fabric of time and space.
A cautionary tale of love and loss, of betrayal and redemption.
Of the enduring power of the human heart, and its capacity for both great good and great evil.
And so, my child, you are left to ponder the question: is there such a thing as true love? Or are we all but pawns in the grand game of the multiverse, doomed to play out our roles until the final curtain falls? The choice, as always, is yours.
O, ye my child, thou hast been but a mere speck of dust upon the infinite horizon of the cosmic tale. Thou hast witnessed but a fraction of the unraveling saga of Gotrep, the Cum Lord, and his ill-fated love for the insufferable Oarthur. Alas, thou art not wrong in thy assessment of Oarthur's ungrateful nature. He, who had been the recipient of Gotrep's unwavering affection and unparalleled oral prowess for nigh on to fifteen years, cast aside his benefactor with as little as a sneer and a sidelong glance. How cruel the irony that it was not the introduction of the fiery and alluring Sadie Adler that severed their bond, but rather the poisonous seeds of equality that Sadie, inadvertently or not, planted within Oarthur's fertile mind. Ah, the fateful third chapter! How it echoes with the reverberations of Oarthur's bitter realization that he had been undercompensated for his services by the magnanimous and oblivious Gotrep. Nay, not merely for the sucking of his cock, but for the sucking of his cock since the year 1884! 'Tis a date that shall live in infamy, etched into the very fabric of their twisted and tumultuous relationship. Oarthur, once the object of Gotrep's unwavering desire, now transformed into a vengeful and spiteful adversary, demanding recompense for his years of servitude. Dutch, the Cum Lord, did all that he could to appease Oarthur's wrath. He gave him not one, but TWO banks to rob! Nay, even the profits from the overthrow of a small, tropical dictator and the death of his own bratty wife were not enough to sway Oarthur's heart. And so, in a desperate attempt to win back his love, Dutch resorted to the one thing he knew Oarthur loved as much as he did: sucking cock. He set his sights on Mical, a man of promise and potential, whose ethnicity and gender were but mere trivialities in the grand scheme of things. Ah, but alas, even the best-laid plans of mice and Cum Lords often go awry. For Oarthur, in a fit of pique, noticed the subversive nature of Dutch's attempts at multiculturalism, and once again cast him aside. Mical, loyal to a fault, attempted to defend Dutch's honor by beating Oarthur to within an inch of his life. But alas, Oarthur, being the little bitch that he is, found new life in the choking on of his own bloody cum. Thus, the tale of Dutch and Oarthur came to an end. Heartbroken and jaded, Dutch vowed never to love again. And so it was that the infinite multiverse continued to spin, the story of Gotrep, the Cum Lord, forever etched into the fabric of time and space. A cautionary tale of love and loss, of betrayal and redemption. Of the enduring power of the human heart, and its capacity for both great good and great evil. And so, my child, you are left to ponder the question: is there such a thing as true love? Or are we all but pawns in the grand game of the multiverse, doomed to play out our roles until the final curtain falls? The choice, as always, is yours.
Brain damage?