Ok, I’ll admit, I’ve had a love affair with the bottle for quite some time. Mostly, it’s wine that I like. I can drink a 450 ml bottle, hit the road, and go past “Go” with $200 bucks in my pocket and a smile on my ass. Sometimes, when I walk through the door after a long day of smacking my lips, I can almost hear that round hard honest mouth calling to me in a siren’s tone of squeals and low humming. It’s all I can do to keep from grabbing the neck of my lover and shoving that nerve sizzling liquid deep into the oceanic sinkhole of my lust. This ain’t no disco, this ain’t no foolin’ around; this is passion all bottled up until it explodes like champagne in my face. I’m a winner, a champion, the best of the heap of the love-drunk. Go ahead, shove it as deeply as you can. I’ll surround it and lap it up, like a kitten in a barn full of squirting udders.