I always wanted to know how stuff works- you know, so I could make stuff work myself. And I always think of things that *should* work, but nobody ever builds 'em. Sometimes I do, if I don't get sidetracked first. People've been shitting on me all my life, so I decided to build one of my gadgets to fix things. Boy, did I ever fix things. I got an idea for this new invention when I started working for Mr. Highbrow Tightass Winston Smythe III over a year ago. I had started thinking how it wasn't fair how Smitty had money coming anal fingering anal cream pie out his ass, fancy cars and a huge house and all he ever did was get born. He had upped his already ridiculous money pile even more already with a few of my gadgets, that I could have never bought lunch with. It's just not fair that someone like him does nothing and has everything, while I beat my brains out to end up with nothing. And did I mention Mrs. Smitty? This guy has the personality of an iguana, but this babe, this total walking wet-dream hangs onto him like he was Jesus Christ Almighty. She could make first grade arithmetic get hard just by walking into the anal sex pics anal cream pie room, but I don't think she's ever noticed that I was even in the room (much less what a hard-on I had). I lay awake nights dreaming about running my hands over those amazing breasts, through that auburn hair, thighs that could start a World War- Darcy Smythe is one sex goddess that I just can't stop thinking about. Today I was tinkering on a new 'proximity switch' that Smitty thinks will take off, and he's probably right again, but danged if I can see why this thing could be valuable. His lordship was in the office right next to the lab, tossing commands at his 'executive secretary' (read anal babes anal cream pie faggot) and I'm sure
