This is HIGHLY perverted...but my best friend BEGGED me to write it. So, there. Enjoy you pervies.
Artemis slowly blinked as he hoisted himself up from his bed, Egyptian cotton sheets, in midnight blue as was his favorite, were
bunched around his lean yet clearly discernable abs. He was quite sexy, with his artfully mussed hair, clad only in blood red
Abercrombie and Fitch boxer shorts.White moose did wonders in highlighting his eyes. He was still shaking from last night. Oh, the
clubs, the colors, the techno; Artemis was writing a social commentary on adolescents his age…and why he was so much superior to
them. The reason being he did not participate in mindless activities like clubbing and Speed. Obviously. Our brave hero then slowly
walked down the winding mahogany stair case and entered the kitchen. He was quite puzzled though, about one topic his teenage
chronicles, soon to be published, had failed to discuss: Why teenagers were so obsessed with sex. He did not understand. Artemis
never experienced this feeling before. He knew EVERY THING. Except this. And it irked him. To no end. Still grimacing, he opened
his freezer, intent on breakfast. He pulled out organic waffles, for they were the first thing to catch his eye, with their smartly packaged
yellow box, and plopped one into the toaster. He waited for one minute and thirty three seconds. Then…zip! It was done. He
transferred it to a plate. And the proceeded to spread creamy butter on it. Butter. Oh! Cream! Oh! HE UNDERSTOOD! Artemis
now understood the teenagers transfixion with sex. He knew what he had to do.
Artemis proceeded to fuck the shit out of the waffle
Faster, harder, he felt a chord inside him stretched to the limits…and it broke. Artemis understood. Damn orgasms feel good.
THE EEEND!
A/N: You know you loves it.
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