Ice, I am actually moist at the thought of gnawing on some succulent ribs. I'm meat mental at the moment, it's like the court of Henry VIII round my gaff.
My wrecking ball tits are still improbably pert and bouncy. I can't believe it. They really are a work of art. It's just a pity my sweaty cleavage persistently reeks of cheese products. I don't even eat cheese 
More cock-squatting tonight but my thighs were a bit jelly-like by the end. Before you all go thinking I'm actually enjoying myself I'm not; I'm in training for labour. I have no sexual desire whatsoever. None. I occasionally fancy a strum when there's nowt on t'telly but invariably can't be arsed disrobing enough to get access.