The Kolek
An overly confident gentleman of a pale complexion (possible albino Armenian) lures women from the local tavern into a leased warehouse. Only a single folding chair (circa 1994 with mild rust) sits alone in the assumed middle of the room. The man whispers something soft and inaudible that sounds eerily like an orangutans orgasm and then begins his mating dance.
The dance itself is romantic, erotic, and somber as he gently prances around his prey slowly masturbating to completion. A single tear journeys down his cheek as his seed spills on the floor. His work is done.
Soft applause is heard in the dark crevices of the warehouse corners.
The dance itself is romantic, erotic, and somber as he gently prances around his prey slowly masturbating to completion. A single tear journeys down his cheek as his seed spills on the floor. His work is done.
Soft applause is heard in the dark crevices of the warehouse corners.
You: Bro I was prepping to the Kolek this hoe so bad but she just wouldn’t follow me into the warehouse.
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