Words cannot define what it means to be dusenberried. Though this simple prose seems inadequate to describe such a magnificent act, it is my hope every one of you will witness it someday yourselves, if human retinas can withstand such glory.
One isn't dusenberried so much as survives it. A mating ritual
beautiful in its brutality, it's characterized by both
speed and effectiveness. Panties seem to
drop within minutes of said Dusenberry engaging women of varying degrees (but always on the scale) of hotness. There's the nut…then the bolt…then the
sick, inevitable feeling that they've been played by the master's hand.
Have you gone from feeling you've met your soulmate to feeling used and abused in a matter of hours? Have texts somehow seamlessly changed from trying to meet your
parents to soliciting pictures of your
naked body…and you find yourself giving in? And have you ever been lured to a party to find everyone else JUST left, and it's just the two of you and his boner? Then you, my dear, may have been lucky enough to get a taste of the Dusenberry.
