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It's been quite the search. Oh, what a journey. All, well, for you.
Yes, you.
For the new russbo.com addition will be online within a few days. The DocStore. Where you can buy all sorts of completely useless and undesirable things. At better prices than everywhere else. Why? Cause we love you.
And, also because we love you, we've been searching far and wide, for just the right model(s) to wear our stuff. Hell, we understand that no one, that's no one, wants to see old doc in a t shirt. Nope, that just ain't gonna do. No, we know what you want.
Large, really fake and hard boobies. Yes, that's the ticket.
So, I and the gang traveled far and wide throughout the horrors of Las Vegas, looking for just that right model. With all the proper qualifications. Had to have all the necessary requirements. We weren't looking for any old chick mind you, she had to fit the very rigid and very high "doc standard".
She had to say yes.
It took weeks, but, finally, one night, in a not so favorite church that we just don't like to hang out at (but did, because, well, we love you), I found one. A girl. A girl that was partially dressed. A girl with a body. A girl that was breathing.
A girl who kind of agreed to wear our t shirts.
I grabbed her little hand, went to some god forsaken dark corner of this hellacious house of prayer, pulled her onto my lap, and started coddling her with bullshit.
Girls like bullshit.
Things like, "Wow, I'm really proud of you. Going to law school and all that. You must be really smart. And you're only twenty years old? Must be a great fake ID you have to get in here to work. Impressive. Shows determination. And my, what great breasts you have. You must have paid a lot for them."
She liked that.
So I bought her a drink. And then, another. I had to get her primed for the russbo.com photo shoot. A model. yes, a live girl, a cute girl, to wear all the docgear that we're going to sell to you suckers, er, guys. After a bit of alcohol, and a nice doc massage, she was putty in my little hands.
It was time to pop the question (actual conversation)....
"So, I've got this really large web site, that you wouldn't find the least interesting, but, anyway, there's all sorts of guys from all over the world that hang out there. We talk about martial arts and stuff, you know, stuff, like, girls like you. And I'm opening an online store on it this week, but, we're kind of behind on the pretty face department, if you know what I mean. So, we're looking for models. Just to sit for an hour or two, and wear our t shirts. Just gonna put your photos on my web site. What do you think? Are you interested?"
"Do I have to use a dildo?"
"Er, hmmm, well, no. Only if you want to."
"OK. I don't have to use a dildo then?"
"Er, no. It would make the t shirt wiggle too much for the pictures...."
She seemed disappointed. She never called. Should have told her I had a dildo for her. Some huge black nuclear powered abomination of a thing. With fake veins.
But don't despair. We be trying. We haven't given up. We be still looking. For models.
Why? Because we love you.
doc
Yes, you.
For the new russbo.com addition will be online within a few days. The DocStore. Where you can buy all sorts of completely useless and undesirable things. At better prices than everywhere else. Why? Cause we love you.
And, also because we love you, we've been searching far and wide, for just the right model(s) to wear our stuff. Hell, we understand that no one, that's no one, wants to see old doc in a t shirt. Nope, that just ain't gonna do. No, we know what you want.
Large, really fake and hard boobies. Yes, that's the ticket.
So, I and the gang traveled far and wide throughout the horrors of Las Vegas, looking for just that right model. With all the proper qualifications. Had to have all the necessary requirements. We weren't looking for any old chick mind you, she had to fit the very rigid and very high "doc standard".
She had to say yes.
It took weeks, but, finally, one night, in a not so favorite church that we just don't like to hang out at (but did, because, well, we love you), I found one. A girl. A girl that was partially dressed. A girl with a body. A girl that was breathing.
A girl who kind of agreed to wear our t shirts.
I grabbed her little hand, went to some god forsaken dark corner of this hellacious house of prayer, pulled her onto my lap, and started coddling her with bullshit.
Girls like bullshit.
Things like, "Wow, I'm really proud of you. Going to law school and all that. You must be really smart. And you're only twenty years old? Must be a great fake ID you have to get in here to work. Impressive. Shows determination. And my, what great breasts you have. You must have paid a lot for them."
She liked that.
So I bought her a drink. And then, another. I had to get her primed for the russbo.com photo shoot. A model. yes, a live girl, a cute girl, to wear all the docgear that we're going to sell to you suckers, er, guys. After a bit of alcohol, and a nice doc massage, she was putty in my little hands.
It was time to pop the question (actual conversation)....
"So, I've got this really large web site, that you wouldn't find the least interesting, but, anyway, there's all sorts of guys from all over the world that hang out there. We talk about martial arts and stuff, you know, stuff, like, girls like you. And I'm opening an online store on it this week, but, we're kind of behind on the pretty face department, if you know what I mean. So, we're looking for models. Just to sit for an hour or two, and wear our t shirts. Just gonna put your photos on my web site. What do you think? Are you interested?"
"Do I have to use a dildo?"
"Er, hmmm, well, no. Only if you want to."
"OK. I don't have to use a dildo then?"
"Er, no. It would make the t shirt wiggle too much for the pictures...."
She seemed disappointed. She never called. Should have told her I had a dildo for her. Some huge black nuclear powered abomination of a thing. With fake veins.
But don't despair. We be trying. We haven't given up. We be still looking. For models.
Why? Because we love you.
doc
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