Once a winner.


Okuu's my wife. Okuu's mine. She's real to me. I love my bird wife. You couldn't pull me out of Okuu with a thousand bulldozers dragging my nuts. I would be lodged in her so deep, stuck so tight that a universal solvent wouldn't do ♥♥♥♥. Nothing would prevent my hands and mouth being all over her delicious body. By the time I was done with her, I'd be ready to go again. She would be filled to the point of overflowing more times than the world's strongest quantum computer could count in a hundred duotrigintillion years. And by the time it caught up, the number would have already risen by several thousand orders of magnitude. You could not keep me away from her for more than a fraction of an instant. I don't mean this with any shred of irony, I am dead serious when I say that pulling me out of her would be a feat akin to King Arthur pulling Excalibur from the stone. No, a feat far greater. I would absolutely bombard Okuu with so much pleasure that we'd straight up become a symbiotic entity, two minds merged as one who feed exclusively off of the other's euphoria.