Damn, I forgot to recharge my batteries again. How the fuck am I going to entertain myself this evening? Shall I explore the pantry? Ahh, a single love-spud, alone in its subservience. Love-Spud, let me entertain you.

I lick at my love-spud, its earthy scent sending me into a furore. I let it slide across my cheek and down my neck, it traces a line of silt toward my breasts. My nipples are hard, my clitoris throbs with excitement. Its form rotates about my nipples, sending ripples of excitement to my limbic system. Yet my vulva beckons the plump object, wanting to indulge in its convolutions.

The moistened mass journeys toward my pubic mound. My hips thrust forward, demanding the potato to enter. It glides towards my vaginal entrance, teasing my labia, coating my vulva with sediment. The nib enters me, ecstasy overrides all reasoning. My brain convulses, body quivers, face screws. I moisten a finger and rub it along my clitoris as I contract my vaginal walls. The potato pops out and I shiver in delight, its nodules nudging my G-spot.

Enough of this torment, I can not take any more. Let me return you to your rightful place next to the pot noodles. Ahh, Love-Spud, if only my uterus was prolapsed, then you could stay forever, letting me feed off your sprouts.

Schlümph