The Divine 'Gasm.
To most people, sexual activities can provide the ever-so delectable orgasm. That's fine and lovely, but to others, like myself, there are better ways to make the body tremble with pleasure.
That is, the Foodgasm. Perfect and non-messy, with the same ability to make your body quake. Something rich and decadent touches your tongue, and your eyes roll back, your lips tighten, your toes curl.
And today, dear dumplings, I found the recipe to the ultimate Foodgasm--a supreme Chocogasm. A Chocogasm to surpass all others.
Go pick up 3 boxes of Pillsbury Brownie Classics brownie mix, the fudge kind (Duh). Just use 4 eggs instead of 6. Mix is all real nice and smooth. Now, to fuck with the oven, it's unnecessary. Just stick your fucking hand in the batter and eat it.
Because I'm still such a kid, my favorite part of baking is still licking the beaters... and Holysweetmotherofgrace, I almost stained my shorts. I'm pretty sure what it came down to was me making out with the beaters. I was panting, moaning, my toes were clenching--if I were in a bed, I would've twisted the sheets til my palms bled.
Yeah, it was fucking good. I don't smoke, but god damn, I needed a cigarette. And to hell with the risk of salmonella!
The brownies aren't even done baking yet, and I'm still in chocolate afterglow. My breath still hasn't caught up with me.
Sex has got nothing on that fucking brownie batter, let me tell you!
That is, the Foodgasm. Perfect and non-messy, with the same ability to make your body quake. Something rich and decadent touches your tongue, and your eyes roll back, your lips tighten, your toes curl.
And today, dear dumplings, I found the recipe to the ultimate Foodgasm--a supreme Chocogasm. A Chocogasm to surpass all others.
Go pick up 3 boxes of Pillsbury Brownie Classics brownie mix, the fudge kind (Duh). Just use 4 eggs instead of 6. Mix is all real nice and smooth. Now, to fuck with the oven, it's unnecessary. Just stick your fucking hand in the batter and eat it.
Because I'm still such a kid, my favorite part of baking is still licking the beaters... and Holysweetmotherofgrace, I almost stained my shorts. I'm pretty sure what it came down to was me making out with the beaters. I was panting, moaning, my toes were clenching--if I were in a bed, I would've twisted the sheets til my palms bled.
Yeah, it was fucking good. I don't smoke, but god damn, I needed a cigarette. And to hell with the risk of salmonella!
The brownies aren't even done baking yet, and I'm still in chocolate afterglow. My breath still hasn't caught up with me.
Sex has got nothing on that fucking brownie batter, let me tell you!