You are laying on a filthy though admittedly comfy bed, with bits of garlic and pastry crumbs strewn everywhere. The sheets had evidently not been washed in a very long time, if ever. You didn't care--beside you lay the man of your dreams. You had played his games before, sometimes even 100%ed them, always admired the man from afar. Now he was yours, and you were his. "You-a look so excellent tonight, wahaha!" he roared in that thick Italian accent you adored so much. You had done up your hair tonight just the way he liked, and you loved the way he looked at you with those beady, black eyes. He gives you a kiss on the cheek and you blush, the scent of his garlic-y breath assaulting your nostrils and inflaming your passions. He sidles closer to you, his rotund potbelly pressing sensually against your body.
He wraps his strong, muscular arms around you and brings your face close to his. You can't help but admire the way the light reflects off his large, bulbous pink nose and greasy black moustache. You're blushing madly now, and he winks at you and gives a cheeky grin, exposing his pearly, filmy teeth. He sits up in bed and begins to unbutton his dungarees, his brawny shoulders now freed from the tight, confining straps. When the second strap is undone, his potgut spills over the brim of his dungarees like a waterfall of flab, jiggling a few times before finally coming to rest. His belly button now puckered before you, housing the biggest wad of dryer lint you've ever seen. He then began to strip off his yellow, sweat-stained shirt (it was white when he bought it), and flung it over his shoulder before giving a hearty laugh; "WAHAHAHA!"
"Wario... I'm all yours" you moan.
He wraps his strong, muscular arms around you and brings your face close to his. You can't help but admire the way the light reflects off his large, bulbous pink nose and greasy black moustache. You're blushing madly now, and he winks at you and gives a cheeky grin, exposing his pearly, filmy teeth. He sits up in bed and begins to unbutton his dungarees, his brawny shoulders now freed from the tight, confining straps. When the second strap is undone, his potgut spills over the brim of his dungarees like a waterfall of flab, jiggling a few times before finally coming to rest. His belly button now puckered before you, housing the biggest wad of dryer lint you've ever seen. He then began to strip off his yellow, sweat-stained shirt (it was white when he bought it), and flung it over his shoulder before giving a hearty laugh; "WAHAHAHA!"
"Wario... I'm all yours" you moan.
