how much squirt is gonna come with the flirt?

Last night I jerked off.

I think. (I think?)

Now I'll tell ya folks, the thought of jerking off and not knowing whether or not I actually jerked off scares me. Why? Because...

DUDE!! I need to know how much squirt is gonna come with the flirt! I need to know if a mega-blast is gonna come or if I'm gonna be greeted with the tell-tale drip, drip, drip of a lonely man.

Heaven help me if I think I jerked off before passing out one night, only to wake the next morning with a monster erection that needs to be captured, sedated and caged. Sweet Jesus help me if the Gates of Hades open up, only to be greeted by Sisyphus' favorite boulder hurtling at a hundred miles per hour right outta my dick.

I know, I know -- I know Sisyphus' boulder wouldn't be coming out of Hades. But just follow me here: The boulder, of course, represents the mighty river of splooge that has been released from the mighty bottle that is my Irish dick. And you guessed it -- the Gates of Hades is my pee hole. That makes the actual head Hades itself. Therefore, my balls are Romulus and Remus and Zeus is my butt.

And Athena is my poop.

What a mess that would be. What a fucking mess!!