/lit/ - Literature

>>19404630
It's completely inane, now let me tell you a story about the Contessa:

The Contessa was a famous and quite wealthy eccentric. She was also a devotee of fashion and her eccentricities bled quite frequently into the latter. For an upcoming party she devised the idea of wearing a style of dress that it had never occurred to anyone to design before and, what's more, that would and could only be unique to her. This contessa was a woman over forty, buxom and voluptuous, with a prominent and well formed derriere--though her face was full of freckles. Then one day while looking in the mirror, after having just made use of the commode, it hit her: she asked her private tailor to fashion for her a dress imprinted with a granular pattern that exactly mimicked her anus and no other: it'd be like a leopard print dress, if the print was three dimensional and made of taffeta and based off of a three dimensional mold of her rectum (the only variance would be the color, a neutral cross between white and pink with perhaps a hint of khaki).

The day of the soiree she wore the dress (with matching color suede shoes and no underwear underneath to add, secretly, to the irony) to great aplomb. Today is my "inside-out day," she declared, "what's normally concealed is now revealed, and what we normally show shall be set aside for the morrow; come and touch, don't be hesitant, especially you gentlemen. Even though I'm inerrantly, almost monastically, celibate tonight you can touch and caress my dress and thereby have a feel of what not even by old stable of lovers ever had the audacity (or embarrassment) to touch. Mind you though, make sure your hands are clean, I don't want the slightest smudge or stain on my new anus print dress!"

The contessa was a famous and quite wealthy eccentric. She was also a devotee of fashion and her eccentricities bled quite frequently into the latter. For an upcoming party she devised the idea of wearing a style of dress that it had never occurred to anyone to design before and, what's more, that would and could only be unique to her. This contessa was a woman over forty, buxom and voluptuous, with a prominent and well formed derriere--though her face was full of freckles. Then one day while looking in the mirror, after having just made use of the commode, it hit her: she asked her private tailor to fashion for her a dress imprinted with a granular pattern that exactly mimicked her anus and no other: it'd be like a leopard print dress, if the print was three dimensional and made of taffeta and based off of a three dimensional mold of her rectum (the only variance would be the color, a neutral cross between white and pink with perhaps a hint of khaki).

The day of the soiree she wore the dress (with matching color suede shoes and no underwear underneath to add, secretly, to the irony) to great aplomb. Today is my "inside-out day," she declared, "what's normally concealed is now revealed, and what we normally show shall be set aside for the morrow; come and touch, don't be hesitant, especially you gentlemen. Even though I'm inerrantly, almost monastically, celibate tonight you can touch and caress my dress and thereby have a feel of what not even by old stable of lovers ever had the audacity (or embarrassment) to touch. Mind you though, make sure your hands are clean, I don't want the slightest smudge or stain on my new anus print dress!"

The contessa was a famous and quite wealthy eccentric. She was also a devotee of fashion and her eccentricities bled quite frequently into the latter. For an upcoming party she devised the idea of wearing a style of dress that it had never occurred to anyone to design before and, what's more, that would and could only be unique to her. This contessa was a woman over forty, buxom and voluptuous, with a prominent and well formed derriere--though her face was full of freckles. Then one day while looking in the mirror, after having just made use of the commode, it hit her: she asked her private tailor to fashion for her a dress imprinted with a granular pattern that exactly mimicked her anus and no other: it'd be like a leopard print dress, if the print was three dimensional and made of taffeta and based off of a three dimensional mold of her rectal orifice (the only variance would be the color, a neutral cross between white and pink with perhaps a hint of khaki).

The day of the soiree she wore the dress (with matching color suede shoes and no underwear underneath to add, secretly, to the irony) to great aplomb. Today is my "inside-out day, she declared, "what's normally concealed is now revealed, and what we normally show shall be set aside for the morrow; come and touch, don't be hesitant, especially you gentlemen. Even though I'm inerrantly, almost monastically, celibate tonight you can touch and caress my dress and thereby have a feel of what not even by old stable of lovers ever had the audacity (or embarrassment) to feel. Mind you though, make sure your hands are clean, I don't want the slightest smudge or stain on my new anus print dress!"