I swear this one is true:

One night, sexy Bubba-mon donned his “mating call” red very-briefs (surprisingly, his Ironman undies are not his garment of choice for amore), and dashed to the bathroom, giving his beloved a few moments to still her beating heart.  He came back out around the corner, stopped for a moment to flash the light on and off while he struck a few freeze-frame poses designed to put her in the mood (to laugh), and then leaped into bed.

This was not a night for subtlety!

Bubba-mon wrapped his woman in his arms, and she responded gratifyingly by putting her right hand on his gorgeous left bun.  Bubba-mon became even more enthusiastic but soon thereafter noticed a change come over his lady.

“Mi bonita, cual es tu problema????” he asked.  (I don’t know why he spoke in Spanish, but just go with the story, folks)

Silence, a giggle.

He felt a strange sensation as something seemed to be drawn upward out of the back of his mating call trunks.  He turned on the light.

With a grin, his wife pulled the rest of the toilet paper gently out of the back of his drawers and handed it to him.

Now that’s what I call junk in the trunk.

Ciao,

Pamelot

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