My ball is big and grey. It’s huge and soft and full of air. I am sitting on my ball. I bounce a little and I rock back and forth, side to side. I do all kinds of things with my ball, and it helps my back. This $20 ball I bought at E-Mart is a wonderful big strange grey thing in my apartment, and thank the heavens for it.
But I think it’s time to go pay my massage ajumma at the local bathhouse a visit. She has arms as thick as my legs, and the last time I went to the bathhouse, I left feeling really good. My back’s been bugging me and I of course deserve a break from that. So why not?
Off I go!
Massage AJUMMA???
Oh yeah, baby. I got me a massage ajumma with arms as thick as my legs and when she cradles my head in her prodigious bosom and then proceeds to twist it left, then right, all I can say is, “Mommy…”
OK, more seriously, her arms are almost as thick as my legs, and she does give good massages. Though, today, the massage ajumma was a different one, more thin and wiry, but capable of an equally-good massage.
Technically speaking, by the way, the ajumma originally referred to is not an ajumma; she’s single and asked me if I was shortly after telling me I’m handsome and telling me she is single. But she’s ajumma-aged, and very ajumoniacal, so I call her ajumma.
And if she asks again I shall tell her I am taken.
sounds like i become a fishman~
gord, please erase that wrong sentence.. -_-;;;;
damn, i’m not sure whether this one is right or not.
I think you mean “fisherman”, right?
I deleted the first one, but the second one is really cute. Can I leave it? ;)