Gooner Brain Drain
Just grab that cock in your hand and PUMP IT. Stroke it. GOON IT. Tug it until it drips and leaks all over the sheets in a big gooner puddle. Goon until your mind spins and your cock goes soft -- and then keep going. Don't think. Don't speak. Just stare at my tits and GOON. You can't think straight now, can you? Your brain is rotting with every PUMPSLUT stroke. You can't even remember what day of the week it is. That's okay, I'll tell you: it's GOONday. Do you know what time it is right now? It's GOON o'clock. Every day is GOONday for you, gooner. Every hour is GOON o'clock. It's just your hand, your cock, and me. The zombie up and down motions, one pump after another, blur together as your brain drains away. You're drooling. Your eyes are rolled back in your head. You're deep in the goon zone now. Where has your dignity gone? What's happened to your capacity for self-restraint? Have I robbed you of every last brain cell, gooner? You're too weak and dumb to care. You've gooned yourself into mental retardation. You're goon-tarded.
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