By Col. Tobias McGleaner, retThe Army loves acronyms. My favorite has always been SNAFU: Situation Normal All Fucked Up. That sums up my life, which is far too busy and dangerous to take time out to come up with clever word play in explain.
That doesn't mean me and the boys in my company couldn't have a good time at the expense of the English language, especially if it meant getting nasty. Hell, our day-to-day existence was as ugly as death on earth. Killing is our business and business is always good. Once the smoke cleared and we could relax on the stinking innards of our enemy's remains, thoughts naturally turned to amore.
Soldiers have a hard-on for only two things: their guns. Get it? You dim civilians, I mean that government-issued hunk of metal and the God-given flesh pistol that is always fully loaded and cocked between a man's legs! Back during my first tour of duty, when I was a just a green Green Beret, I used to stroke my meat to the image of one of those juicy pin-ups stuck to the inside of the airplane, probably by scores of other parachuters' spunk, before jumping. Now that's a lot of what I like to call the moist!
Some Einstein says a pun is when a word is taken out of context and turns a familiar phrase into something with another meaning. Well, I guess I came up with a pun then, but damn if I know what it's supposed to mean! One thing, though, I know it when I see it.
Where do I see it? On women, joker! Think about a pair of juicy melons bouncing in front of your eyes. If that doesn't get a tongue wagging like a dog pulling on its bone then you're a pussy. Then there are gams: long and curvy, meaty and mouth-watering legs. Follow those paths of glory to the glory hole and give it a squeeze. It's moist.
So now you mama's boys know the meaning of moist. Good. But that's only part of my ribald tale of tail. It's like being able to identify the enemy, get them in your sights, but now it's time to go in for the kill.
Women are the moist dangerous game, but, oh, the rewards are unending when you bag one and mount her on the wall ... in the bedroom, on the floor, anywhere and everywhere. First, it's important to keep your gun well oiled and ready for action. What's the point of cornering a cutie if you can't get your hands on that flesh weapon? She ain't going to wait.
Listen, I speak from experience. I was in deep under covers back in WWII and made it all the way into the bunker where Hitler was coordinating his blitzkrieg. I had a chance to terminate with extreme prejudice that mustachioed, one-balled madman. My bowie knife was in my hand as I commando-crawled to his office only to take a wrong turn and discover the tiny dictator's mistress Eva Braun undressing for a shower.
Now that's a lot of what I call the moist! Her Hitler mustache between her legs was dewy from the condensation of the steamy bathroom. I stood up, put down my hunting knife, and picked up my hard prick. Before you could say Danke I had my hands on Hitler's honey's honeys. "Your lover has been dropping bombs on England; well, here's an American heat-seeking missile," I said, claiming her moist lot for God, country, and McGleaner and letting the world's greatest monster get away from U.S. justice.
Learn from my mistakes. But in my defense, when face to face with a lot of what I like to call the moist, it's hard not to get hard. But there's a time and a place for the moist treats of this world. As a retired and highly decorated soldier in this man's army I feel that I've paid my dues and now it's time to go for the brown. I thank the good Lord that there's a patriot hero like Mr. Skin out there who's willing to give a former fighting man a chance not to fade away. And, readers, I consider it my responsibility to turn your generation into the greatest generation, as mine has been called. First, enlist in the armed services of your choice. Next, fight for your right to pussy!
Yes, a little turn of a phrase, a silly absurdity, a meaningless coupling of words is a good start to a lot of what I like to call the moist. More than all the medals that weigh down my dress uniform, I'm moist proud of my wank as a role model to America's youth. And if I can learn you on the subtle yet rewarding meaning of a lot of what I call the moist, well, then I can march off to that barbecue in the sky satisfied.
I was watching a movie late last night, a good little actioner called To the Limit (1995) starring Anna Nicole Smith (Picture: 1 - 2), who may be the personification of a lot of what I like to call the moist.
Buxom and blonde Anna Nicole opens up the film in a hot tub. She's tits deep in the bubbling brew and spending a long time rubbing that heated water over her overheated hooters. You'd be leisurely with your bath time too, if you had a pair of flesh zeppelins floating from your chest like Anna. Oh, the humanity!
If you're still having a difficult time getting your mind around a lot of what I like to call the moist, then watch Anna Nicole's mounds in this scene over and over again. That's an order! Anna Nicole's body is a moveable feast. Just pinch a bit of her meaty excess between your fingers and you'll know what I mean by moist. Not only is her white skin as juicy as a rare steak, your pants will be like a swamp soiled by the gooey warm tears of your penis, crying at the realization that a lot of what I like to call the moist is as close to the divine as we'll get in this mortal coil.
The Moistest of the Moist
Anne Heche (Picture: 1 - 2)
In the shot-by-shot remake of Psycho (1998) she out-moists the always juicy Janet Leigh from the original.
Jan MacKenzie
She takes me back to my small-town roots when she moistens up her mounds in an outdoor tub in Gator Bait II: Cajun Justice (1988).
Cheri Caffaro (Picture: 1 - 2)
Cheri's cherries are tender and sweet as she teases a tied-up nude man's poor pecker with her hands before leaving him alone with his hard-up hard-on in The Abductors (1972).
Karin Mani (Picture: 1 - 2)
She's the pussy in Alley Cat (1982), but when she takes her naked body into the shower it's the cat's meow.
Asia Argento (Picture: 1)
Prepare to spank your monkey after watching a wetly wanton Asia in B. Monkey (1998).
Janet Munro (Picture: 1 - 2)
This early black-and-white breast from The Day the Earth Caught Fire (1961) should be re-titled The Day My Pants Caught Fire!
Julie Christie (Picture: 1 - 2)
In the bathroom with a naked Julie in Don't Look Now (1973) is one time when one should not pay attention to movie titles. Look. Now.
Demi Moore (Picture: 1)
There were never cadets with G.I. Jugs in my shower stall at boot camp like Demi's Moores in G.I. Jane (1997).
Catherine Deneuve (Picture: 1 - 2)
Glam star David Bowie launches his Ziggy Stardust all over Catherine's rockers in this shower scene from The Hunger (1983).
Valeria Golino
I usually stick to homegrown cuties, but Valeria's Golinos look so moist in Immortal Beloved (1994) that I'll sing a different tune.
Sally Kellerman (Picture: 1 - 2 - 3)
Oh, the mammaries I have of that vision of Hot Lips's hot lips as she's exposed in the shower in M*A*S*H (1970).
Daryl Hannah (Picture: 1 - 2 - 3)
I don't care if she's got a tail, Daryl's a catch in Splash (1984).
