The Seducer's Ultimate Dream
is the seducer's ultimate dream: a potion that will turn a woman's cold
indifference into warm sexual interest. Sound improbable? Not any more.
Scientists last week revealed they had successfully tested a nasal spray,
PT-141, that sent 'healthy, normal women' into states of high sexual arousal.
But, of course, Angry Harry himself will not need to
resort to any artificial means of chemical stimulation in order to heighten the
rapacious desires that all women automatically experience in his presence.
No Sir! Even the most menopausal of womenfolk can barely
contain their juices within their cavities when Angry Harry enters their field of vision.
Why, his succulence alone is guaranteed
to arouse and inflame even the most resistant of women to the very pinnacles of
Oh yes indeedee! Unbridled frenzied passions,
that few could even dream of, are kindled daily as Harry strolls casually yet
masterfully along the aisles of his local supermarket, salaciously eyed by
salivating women urgently caressing their vegetables in wistful expectation that
he might pause awhile and take some further notice of them.
But, of course, Angry Harry has no inclination or
desire to waste his precious time pandering to the spicy hankerings of sexually
aroused womenfolk even though it is true that the merest glance from him would live forever in their hearts.
Indeed, he is usually far too busy to do more than
smile at them with genuine sympathy in his heart as majestically he glides past them toward the fish
counter where he is greeted hungrily by three malodorous women wearing caps.
He watches them benignly in their pretty white
aprons as they jostle and
elbow each other aside in order to be the first in line to serve him, their awkward and ungainly stances betraying the sticky
moisture exuding hotly betwixt their
But what can Harry do? He cannot stop to parlay
with every woman whose pupils widen longingly as they linger upon his every
feature. He cannot satiate the carnal desires of every female residing upon the
planet who hungers, thirsts and yearns so desperately for him.
He does not have the time!
But, then again, what choices do these emotionally
vulnerable women have in the face of such overwhelming forces of attraction
other than to bear their sense of failure with dignity and hope? Hope that, perchance, will
soon deliver them into the welcoming arms of death and peace rather than compel them to endure another
painful moment without him.
And so he simply flashes his smiling eyes at
the hopeful sales girls and thanks them warmly for their
attention pretending not to notice how their nipples now on full alert protrude
most fulsomely in his direction.
But there is no escape for Angry Harry even as he approaches the fruit counter, as groups of tender firm-breasted young womenfolk cluster tightly around him
trying in vain to give
the false impression that they actually have some interest in purchasing the
fleshy produce on the shelves.
Whom do they think that they are fooling?
Their furtive glances continuously cast
surreptitiously in the direction of Angry Harry's groin reveal only too easily that this amusing
pantomime is staged only in the hope that a golden opportunity might
fortuitously arise which would allow them to drool lasciviously and covertly over the outline of his bulging manhood or the
contours of his juicy rounded plums without him noticing.
For you, Harry.
"Excuse me Ladies," he breathes kindly as
he gently pushes his way through the soft ample mounds that press and thrust so insistently
against his body, while the very smoothness of
his silken voice brings forth an orchestra of feminine gasps of delight and gratitude
that are normally far too private to reveal to anyone lest one's very soul
They stand enthralled, but defeated, as Angry Harry
finally begins to make his way to the checkout counter.
An air of despair quickly overhangs and
And suddenly, unable to resist for any longer, a caressing hand slides
frenetically down his manly buttocks and reaches greedily for his generous
Angry Harry spins round, his eyes glinting like
magnificent swords flashing in the blinding midday sun.
Forgive me, Harry.
"Oh, I'm so sorry," a pretty
brunette powerless to contain her urges splutters with embarrassment. "I just
do not know what came over me. I feel so very faint. Yet warm."
But Harry has grown well-accustomed to the
inquisitive fingers and groping hands of women who encounter him. And so he
laughs with glowing affability to put her at her ease. "It shall be our
little secret," he reassures
her affectionately, as she melts away from view forever wishing that she could
have captured for eternity the intoxicating fragrance of the raunchy masculine pheromones
exuding from his armpits.
And so it is that Angry Harry has no need for nasal
sprays and chemicals to turn his women on. His mere presence is the most
powerful and persistent aphrodisiac of them all.
He can dream can't he?